A Glance

Posted: March 2004
Title: A Glance
Author: Larien Elengasse
Type: FCS
Characters: Celeborn/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…

Summary: I had several requests for the interlude that led to Celeborn's predicament in "Negotiations of the Flesh", so consider this a prequel; just your average, run of the mill, smut. Thanks to Khylaren for letting me borrow Melaphríl and Galen.

*****

"What?" Celeborn barked as his herald winced, the elf's gaze was riveted to the tips of his boots.

"He said that he would not use an intermediary for this negotiation, and that…"

"I heard you the first time, Galen," Celeborn grumbled. He swore that Thranduil would surely be his demise. "And when is this… meeting?" He began to pace the floor.

Galen answered quickly and braced for another outburst, "Three days hence, my lord."

"Does he think I have nothing to do?" Celeborn snapped. "I have preparations to make for Galadriel's departure, I have business of my realm to attend to. I am to just drop everything I have to do and ride to Eryn Lasgalen to entertain the whim of Thranduil?"

"Surely I do not know, my lord," Galen answered.

Celeborn frowned and grumbled, "It was a rhetorical question, Galen. You need not have answered."

"Forgive me, my lord," Galen replied.

Celeborn shook his head slowly and walked toward the elf, patting him on the shoulder. "I am not angry with you, Galen. Have my horse prepared; I must leave in the morning if I am to arrive at the appointed time. You may go now."

"As you wish, my lord." Galen bowed low and quickly left Celeborn's talan, leaving the elf lord to stew.

* * * *

"What happened?" Melaphríl asked as Galen descended the winding stair.

"He was most unhappy," Galen replied.

"I could hear that," Melaphríl answered. "I think the entire city heard just how unhappy he was."

Galen shuddered. "Be glad you were not standing there, meleth."

Melaphríl put his hand upon Galen's shoulder and nodded. "Come, seron vell, let us bathe and change our clothes before the evening meal."

Galen slid his arm around Melaphríl's waist and nodded. "Aye, sounds very pleasant," he murmured against his lover's ear.

* * * *

Celeborn stewed as he stared out over the flickering lamplight of his tree city. Thranduil. The King infuriated him. That blasé self-assurance, that smooth arrogance, that complete and utter belief that all would bend to his will so easily. It had been but one week since he returned home after the destruction of Dol Guldur, one week of relative peace and quiet with Galadriel as she prepared to travel into the West. Now he was to turn around and ride right back toward Eryn Lasgalen to meet with Thranduil over something that just required his signature and seal.

He had agreed to nearly all of Thranduil's terms, now they were haggling over a name and a mere fifty leagues of grasslands along the Anduin. Damn that elf! So he was a King, and a warrior, a fine warrior at that. And beautiful, this was true. Beautiful and fierce and sensual. Stop. Stop right there… he told himself.

Celeborn rose from his chair and stood at the edge of the talan. He heard Galadriel's voice drifting up from the gardens, and he closed his eyes. He loved his wife; no other had ever touched his heart the way she had. Yes, he had taken lovers, and it was no secret; but he did not flaunt them in front of her. Galadriel had plenty of opportunity to take a lover as well, but her interests lay in other areas so she had chosen to forgo that opportunity. He smiled as he peered over the edge of the talan, watching his wife float rather than walk across the cool grass with their grandsons.

He stretched and sighed as he turned and made his way to their bed, removing his robes and hanging them upon a chair. As he slid his naked body beneath the covers, he closed his eyes, letting her lovely voice lull him to reverie.

* * * *

He kissed his wife goodbye before he mounted his horse and rode with three of his marchwardens into the northeast. While Sauron was defeated, and Dol Guldur cast down, the remnants of his evil remained and no elf was completely safe traveling alone. The afternoon waned as they made camp amongst the trees. Haldir took rest, as did Celeborn; Rúmil and Orophin stood guard. Halfway through the night, Haldir took the place of his brothers and in the morning, they made their way toward Gladden Fields.

The journey took two full days in total, and Celeborn and his Galadhrim arrived at the appointed location late in the afternoon the day before the ascribed meeting time. The Elven King's tents were already in place, a staff of some 20 odd elves, some warriors, some domestic help, were scurrying about. Thranduil's advisor greeted them and showed Celeborn to the King's tent.

Celeborn stooped and entered the tent, finding it empty and turned to the advisor.

"His majesty will be with you momentarily, my lord. Please," he motioned to a divan, "make yourself comfortable.

The advisor was gone in a flourish of green and the tent flap closed behind him with a soft thump. Celeborn looked around the lavishly appointed tent and smirked. It was so like Thranduil to indulge in such luxuries even in a temporary camp. The tent was furnished with all the comforts one would expect to find in a well-appointed palace. A large oak desk stood in the corner next to the entry, a small stack of papers was neatly arranged upon one corner. Beside the desk was an iron stove that would provide heat if needed. The canvas floor of the tent was covered with plush rugs that suspiciously looked like those that had been in wagons of the Haradrim that they had raided sometime ago. Against the back wall of the large tent stood a large four poster bed covered in luxurious velvet bedding and silk covered pillows; a fine deep green robe made of thin silk lay across its width. Next to the bed were a dressing table and chair, and the divan he sat on. In the corner sat a wash table with a pitcher and basin. The tent was nearly as large as his talan, he mused.

He shook his head and chuckled. He had to admit he admired Thranduil's complete lack of concern as to what others thought of him. The King did as he pleased and gave little thought to the opinions of others. The tent flap raised and a she-elf clad in leggings and a tunic entered, her long silver hair braided behind her back in a thick rope. On one hand, she balanced a tray laden with fruits and fresh bread and cheese. In the other hand, she carried a fine crystal carafe filled with wine, and two ornate goblets. She placed the goods upon the desk and bowed to Celeborn before turning on her heel and departing without uttering a word.

Celeborn rose and crossed the distance to the desk, lifting the carafe and pouring a glass of the fine red wine. He turned as he heard the flap raise again and before him stood the object of both much consternation and secret admiration.

"Thranduil," he said evenly and raised his glass in greeting.

"Excellent," Thranduil answered as he crossed to Celeborn, removing his gloves and cloak. "Emeldir has brought some refreshments." He tossed his cloak and gloves upon the bed and accepted the proffered glass of wine from Celeborn. "I see you arrived early, mellonen. I did not expect you until the morning."

Celeborn watched with something bordering on complete distraction as the King lifted the glass to his lips and took a sip of the deep burgundy wine. Was it possible that Thranduil was even more beautiful than he had been last he saw him? The King stood before him dressed in velvet and suede, the snugness of his leggings accentuating the long curve of his thighs. Tight leather boots encased his calves and a finely cut velvet tunic covered his upper body. The King's hair was loose save for two braids, one tucked behind each ear, and he bore the ring that was a symbol of his house on one hand. Celeborn caught the faint glint of mithril and saw a small ring in the King's right earlobe and the wickedness of it caused him to smile.

"My companions and I decided to rise before dawn this morn, that put us here sooner than we had expected," Celeborn answered.

"Well," Thranduil replied as he sat in the chair in front of his desk, "shall we dispense with the unpleasantness right away or indulge in some further idle chatter?"

Celeborn smirked as he picked a thin slice of cheese from the plate and wrapped it around a slice of apple. "Let us get it out of the way. After all, it was you who insisted on this meeting."

Thranduil chuckled as he watched the elf lord pop the slice of cheese-wrapped apple into his mouth. "Well, down to business then. I want the grasslands that border the eastern banks of the Anduin from the Celebrant north to the Old Ford."

"I thought we had agreed that you would take the northern reaches of the forest," Celeborn replied. He swallowed as he sat facing Thranduil; the King dangled one leg over the arm of the large chair and had loosened the top three clasps of his tunic, exposing his muscular and fine throat.

"We did," Thranduil answered casually. "But I need grasslands to raise my horses, the Woodmen and Beornings occupy the grasslands bordering the Anduin to the east. I do not wish my horses to become intermingled and cross bred with theirs."

"That is what you called me here from Lórien for? To talk over grasslands? Could you not have sent this in a letter?" he asked, feigning indignation. He had to admit, a few days away from Lórien in the presence of this magnificent elf was not the worst way to spend time.

"Well, not entirely," Thranduil answered before taking a sip of his wine. "I have to admit, I have grown somewhat… restless… now that darkness has left my realm. I suppose I wanted an excuse for an outing of sorts." He shifted and looked into Celeborn's gray eyes. "I did grow quite fond of your company in the past several months. Fighting beside you was a thrill and an honor, Celeborn."

Celeborn nearly fell off the divan in shock. Thranduil rarely doled out compliments, and here he sat receiving one. He cleared his throat and in as steady a voice as he could muster he answered, "Hannon le, Thranduil. I feel the same."

Thranduil smiled and turned to sit squarely in the chair, his legs spread apart as he leaned forward, balancing his elbows upon his knees. "I am glad to hear of it, " he answered. "Will you stay for a few days? Rest your horses and your companions? There is excellent hunting to be had in this region, and the wood is beautiful in the spring."

Celeborn fought to resist the urge to stare at the King; he was becoming increasingly enamored of him. He nodded. "I would be delighted, Thranduil."

"Excellent," Thranduil answered. He rose from his chair and retrieved the carafe, crossing to Celeborn and kneeling before him to refill his glass. "I would like very much to hear tales of Doriath and Thingol, if you would honor me with them."

Celeborn stared at the King that knelt before him upon the rug, pouring a glass of wine for him as if he were a servant. Before he could stop himself he reached out and tucked one of Thranduil's braids behind his ear. As Thranduil turned his sapphire eyes up to his own he felt his heart freeze in his chest.

Long had he heard fantastical tales of Thranduil's magic, of his ability to bewitch and seduce even the most steadfast and wary elf. Those eyes held him captive, looking up at him beneath weighted lids and golden lashes, igniting fire inside him, and burning straight through to his desire. He was riveted to the spot in which he sat and he watched with dismay as the King's perfect, pink lips curved into a smile. "Hannon le, Celeborn, " Thranduil's seductive voice answered softly, and Celeborn realized his hand still lingered in the King's hair. Try as he might he could not remove his hand from the golden silk that lay beneath it. The late afternoon sun caused the tent to glow and Thranduil's hair to shimmer as the light danced across it. A soft afternoon breeze set the tent walls aflutter and fine wisps of spun gold to light upon his hand.

"Is it only my friendship you seek?" he found himself asking quietly.

"Nay, I would have more should you give it," came Thranduil's husky reply.

"You would take all if I allowed you."

"Perhaps. But what I would give in return would be worth it."

"Would it?"

"Oh yes."

Celeborn plunged his hands into Thranduil's hair as the King leaned forward and claimed his mouth with a bruising kiss. He moaned wantonly as Thranduil's tongue swept over his own, and he found himself being pulled to his feet.

His cloak was gone before he even realized it, and his tunic was the next victim. He threw his head back and surrendered to Thranduil's touch, to his strong, warm hands, and sweet intoxicating mouth. He fumbled with the clasps of Thranduil's tunic, questing inside the heavy garment as he slid it from the Sinda's body. By Elbereth, he was on fire; his fingers digging into the muscle of Thranduil's back as the King lathed a pebbled nipple with his hot tongue. A deep groan issued from him as Thranduil's hands slid inside his leggings, cupping his buttocks and giving them a squeeze.

"By the Valar…" he groaned as Thranduil's mouth left his inflamed nipple and assaulted his ear, suckling the point until he was near mad with desire.

"'Tis been a long time, pen-vain, since I have tasted one so heady and rich." Thranduil's fingers slid into the cleft of Celeborn's buttocks and he lightly teased the elf lord's entrance. "I would have you here, on the floor, and again in my bed," he growled.

Celeborn found he did not care who had whom, as long as he had more of this wicked and sensual elf. "Take me where you will, melethron valthen. I care not, for you have bewitched me."

"Bewitched?" Thranduil purred into Celeborn's ear. "Are you sure that is what I have done? Perhaps I have just given you what you long for in your heart." A long swipe of his tongue traced the curve of Celeborn's ear. "You are beautiful, pen-hael. I will savor and worship your beauty as you yield beneath me."

Celeborn moaned plaintively as Thranduil's lips moved from his ear to his neck and he pulled the King closer, crushing him against his chest. "Soft and hard you are, like living iron wrapped in silk, mellonen," Celeborn whispered into his ear.

"Would you like more, melethron?" Thranduil purred as he rolled his hips forward, pressing his rigid arousal against Celeborn's.

"Yes," Celeborn whispered. "I want it all." He slid his fingers inside the top of the King's leggings and pushed them down over Thranduil's hips. He reveled in the low growl that came from deep within Thranduil's chest as he grasped the King's buttocks and pulled him closer still. He stepped out of his own leggings, kicking at his boots as he nipped and sucked the soft flesh of Thranduil's neck. His own arousal was impossibly rigid, viscous fluid leaked from his engorged length. He thrust forward, bringing his heated flesh in contact with Thranduil's, the silken glide causing a shiver to run down his spine.

Thranduil struggled out of his leggings and kicked them aside, heedless of where they landed. He wadded Celeborn's long, silver hair in his fist as he pulled the elf lord's head back to expose more of his strong neck. His arousal stood proud against his stomach, a steady, pulsating throb emanating from his loins. He grasped Celeborn's shoulder and spun him around, wrapping one arm around his waist as he fumbled with his free hand for a phial of oil that sat in his bedside table drawer. He uncorked it with one hand and poured a generous amount into his palm before setting the phial down. He rubbed the warm oil into his rigid length as he suckled the point of Celeborn's ear and fondled his pebbled nipples with his free hand.

Celeborn groaned as Thranduil tormented his ear. He reached behind him to cradle Thranduil's head as he tilted his own to give the King better access to his ear. His other hand found his own heated length and he began slowly stroking himself, staying on the edge of climax. A sharp cry slipped from his lips as he felt the King's oiled fingers breach his body and he pushed back against Thranduil's hand. The King roughly kicked his feet apart, forcing him to stand with his legs spread wide. Another keening cry escaped him as Thranduil found his mark, sending fire roaring though his veins.

"Bend over."

The command was spoken harshly, and he did not hesitate to comply. He bent forward, his fingertips spread wide as they pressed into the rug, helping him to keep his balance. He felt Thranduil's strong hands upon his hips and the tip of the King's arousal nudge his entrance. He was vulnerable in this position, laid bare and opened to the King's gaze. A nervous shiver ran down his spine as he considered himself in this state. He had not experienced anything like this since he was a very young elf, and that was ages ago.

As Thranduil sheathed himself inside him, Celeborn took in a deep breath and a small, plaintive moan escaped him. The King did not stop until he was buried inside him, filling him beyond the point of bearing.

"Ah, yes," Thranduil breathed, as he held the elf lord's hips in his hands. He gave his lover time to accept him; he could feel that it had been quite sometime since he had allowed such an intrusion. He took a deep breath and addressed Celeborn gently, "Are you well, hîren?"

"Yes," Celeborn answered breathlessly, his taut body slowly beginning to relax.

"You feel remarkable, Celeborn," Thranduil answered. "As tight as a youngster, but with the body of a warrior."

Thranduil began to move and Celeborn could not find his voice to answer. Instead, he moaned his pleasure as the King slowly withdrew and thrust back inside him. As the pace began to quicken, Thranduil gripped Celeborn's hips, steadying him as he sent him rocking forward onto his toes. A feral growl escaped Thranduil's lips as he found his climax, spilling himself inside the elf lord's tight body.

Celeborn trembled with his unfulfilled desire as he felt Thranduil's length slip from his body. He stood up slowly, and gasped as Thranduil grasped his shoulder and spun him around. The King's lips hovered just over his own as he was cradled in Thranduil's strong arms.

"That was… delicious, my Lord," Thranduil whispered against Celeborn's lips. He brushed his own against Celeborn's as he watched him succumb to his touch. "But I have left you wanting. I would not do that to one so wise and beautiful," he whispered.

Celeborn's eyelids fluttered as Thranduil caressed his abdomen with the back of his ringed hand. A plaintive moan escaped him as Thranduil made his way down his abdomen with his mouth. He shuddered as Thranduil brushed his lips along his heated flesh, whispering words of encouragement to him as he felt his hands come around to cup his buttocks. Ah long, shuddering sigh escaped him when Thranduil took him in his mouth. Warm, soft lips sliding the length of his arousal, his wicked tongue tormenting him in ways he had never imagined. His hands came to rest in Thranduil's hair, the strands of silken gold gliding through his fingers. He groaned as Thranduil encouraged him to thrust into his mouth, and he cried out as his release claimed him, spilling down the King's throat.

He was light-headed with spent desire, his body warm and tingling as the aftershocks of his climax coursed through his body. Thranduil guided him to the large bed and slid him beneath the covers. The King climbed in beside him and smiled, propping his head up on his hand as he drew patterns on the elf lord's chest with his finger.

"Was that to your satisfaction, Celeborn?" Thranduil purred.

Celeborn smiled and nodded sleepily. "Oh yes," he answered.

"Was it worth the travel?" the King asked.

"Most certainly," Celeborn answered. He looked over at the beautiful King and smiled. "You are wicked, Thranduil."

Thranduil chuckled. "Yes, I am. As are you, hîren. Now, sleep."

Celeborn nodded and closed his eyes, drifting into reverie.

*****

Meleth = love
Seron vell = dear lover
Mellonen = my friend
Hannon le = thank thee
Pen-vain = beautiful one
Melethron valthen = golden lover
Pen-hael = wise one
Melethron = lover
Hîren = my lord

*****

THE END

Go to the sequel to this story: Negotiations of the Flesh

If you enjoyed this story, please send feedback to: Larien Elengasse