Lust and Broken Alliances

Posted: June 2003
Title: Lust and Broken Alliances
Series: Perfect Love
Sequel to: Glorfindel's First Love
Author: Larien Elengasse
Type: FCS, M/M Slash
Characters: Thranduil/Elrond
Rating: NC-17
Beta: Alex
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.
Summary/Notes: Set during the war of the Last Alliance.. A precursor to Perfect Fit.

*****

End of the Second Age, Year, 3434, Outskirts of the Plain of Dagorlad, Mordor

Smoke rose from Mount Doom, the sky glowed red and the Black Gate loomed in the distance. Dust floated on the breeze across the ground, covering everything in its path. The walls of Elrond, Half-Elven's tent gently flapped in the breeze as he sat at his desk going over battle plans for the impending assault upon the Black Gate. He sat rubbing his temples, a pounding headache beginning to flare deep behind his eyes. His second in command and trusted friend, Glorfindel sat upon a stool in the lavishly appointed tent; the décor was befitting an Elf of Elrond's stature. Glorfindel furrowed his brow as he watched his Lord, the upcoming assault would claim many lives of both Elves and Men and the warrior could see the worry upon Elrond's face. He softly spoke, "My Lord, is there anything further I can do for you?"

Elrond looked up from the desk into the bright blue eyes of his Second, "No, Glorfindel. The plans are in place, all that is left is to wait, and to pray," he sighed, "Perhaps you should check upon our soldiers, it would do them good to see you walking amongst them. They hold you in high esteem."

Glorfindel rose from his stool, "As you wish, my Lord." He bowed his head in respect and quietly left the tent. As the warrior walked among his troops he saw the fear and concern in their eyes. He quietly took a seat by the fire and pondered the danger that they would march into at dawn. As he surveyed the troops his eye was caught by an absolute vision, a tall, flaxen haired Elf was crossing the camp, en-route from Oropher's tent. From the looks of him it had to be Oropher's son, Thranduil. He was tall, taller even than many of the Elves he walked among. His hair flowed from his head with only two simple braids, one over each ear. He moved with a kind of grace that was unusual even for an Elf, a combination of elegance and power, he brimmed with the confidence that only a son of the Mirkwood King could carry. He was breathtaking; there was something both beautifully innocent and terribly seductive about the young Elf. Glorfindel stood to get a better look but lost sight of him as he passed behind a row of tents, he was undoubtedly on his way to Elrond's tent with yet another request from his father. The young prince had been serving as a messenger as they prepared for the attack. The warrior sat back down next to his soldiers and stared into the fire, pondering the young Prince, finding himself hoping that he would remain safe during battle.

* * * *

Elrond sat rubbing his temples, his headache was worsening by the minute. He thought it ironic that he, one who had studied the healing arts, was plagued by this pain, a pain that he could not relieve himself of. His thoughts drifted to his lover, Gil-galad, the High King of the Noldor. They were trying to be discreet, even though the younger Elf knew that most of the camp was already aware of the nature of their relationship. He wished he were back home in Lindon, lying in his lover's arms at that moment; he wished he were anywhere but there. The pressure on him to succeed in this battle was great, not only because lives were at stake, but also because this was his first command and his King had placed great faith in him. He worried about failing his lover and about failing his troops. As he pondered these things he felt his jaw begin to tighten and his neck begin to stiffen as the pain in his head continued to expand. He vaguely heard the flap of the tent raise and slowly looked up to see Thranduil standing in the doorway. He sighed, it could only mean one thing, Oropher had found yet another reason to complain; the Mirkwood King was quickly becoming a thorn in Elrond's side. "Yes?" he said weakly, as the pain in his head leaped to new heights.

Thranduil bowed his head and addressed Elrond with all the respect and reverence of one of his subjects, "My Lord, I am sorry to disturb you at such a late hour, but my Father is asking that you consider his request once more. He believes it would be best to push the hour of attack up rather than wait until the time dictated by your King," Thranduil started to continue when he saw the expression upon Elrond's face, he was clearly in some sort of physical discomfort. His tone softened and became less formal, "My Lord? Are you feeling all right? You look rather pale."

Elrond stood up to address the young Prince when he felt slightly dizzy and placed his hand upon the desk to steady himself. Thranduil quickly crossed the short distance to the desk and took him by the elbow. Elrond looked into his sapphire blue eyes and saw genuine concern. No matter how tedious Oropher may be, his son was quite kind and rather charming and it was difficult to ignore his beauty; his hair glowed in the firelight and he was dressed in simple green suede leggings and a beige silk tunic. Elrond waived his hand, "I am fine, I just have a bit of a headache, that is all."

The corner of Thranduil's mouth turned up in a bit of a smirk as he softly replied, "Strange for a healer to have a headache. Can you not heal yourself?"

Elrond frowned at the young prince and soon found himself staring at the curve of those pink lips as they smirked at him. "I could do without your attempt at humor, Thranduil. It has been a very long day," he replied quietly.

Thranduil's voice was soft as he almost whispered in Elrond's ear, "My apologies, my Lord. I meant no disrespect. Perhaps you could use someone to look after you for a change, yes? I may not be as versed in the healing arts as you, but I do know a thing or two about relieving discomfort. Please," he motioned to the bed, "Lie down and I will see if I cannot release some of the tension you are feeling."

Elrond raised an eyebrow, 'Was the young Prince propositioning him?' If so, it was indeed the most subtle and elegantly executed proposition he had ever heard. He replied, "That is not necessary, Thranduil. Your Father will be expecting an answer. Tell him..." he was unable to finish his thought as the young Prince placed a finger upon his lips, effectively silencing him.

"I will return to my Father in due time. I already know your answer; my coming here was just a formality to appease him. Please, let me offer you some comfort, we can ill afford for you not to be at your best during battle tomorrow." He led Elrond to the bed and removed his cloak for him, "Remove your armor and your boots, my Lord, I will need to have better access to you."

Elrond raised his eyebrows in surprise, this young Elf was certainly brazen, "Thranduil, I hope I have not misled you, I am not..."

This time it was Thranduil who raised his hand, "My Lord, I assure you, I am only asking that you let me massage your neck, shoulders, and feet, it will help relieve your headache. My preferences do not lean in that direction, if you take my meaning. You need not remove more than your armor and your boots if you choose not to." He turned and crossed the tent, retrieving a bowl and cloth from a table by the door, "I will return shortly, please, make yourself comfortable," he paused before leaving, "I could return with chaperone if that would set you at ease."

Elrond, now feeling rather embarrassed at his assumption, replied, "No, that is not necessary."

Thranduil smiled, "Very well, I will return shortly." He left as Elrond removed his armor, his tunic, and his boots. He lay upon the bed on his stomach with his hands folded under his head and his eyes closed. 'My preferences do not lean in that direction... Oh really?' he thought. "That is a shame." He whispered to himself.

"What is a shame, my Lord?"

Elrond looked up to see Thranduil standing beside the bed with the basin of cool water and a cloth. He vaguely saw the smile crossing the young Elf's lips as he spoke. He felt a spark inside him at the sight of that smile; it was truly disarming. The Mirkwood Prince was indeed beautiful, one of the most beautiful Elves he had ever seen in fact, next to Glorfindel. Elrond muttered, "Nothing, I was just talking to myself."

The young Elf turned to him, still smiling, and handed him the damp cloth. He spoke very softly "Roll to your back and place this over your eyes please." He crossed the tent and turned down the lanterns, dimming the light.

Elrond did as instructed and felt the foot of the bed sink under Thranduil's weight as he sat down. The young Prince took both of Elrond's feet in his lap and the young Lord quietly gasped as he felt his warm, soft hands begin massaging them. Thranduil's voice softly floated about the bed as he spoke, "There are many pressure points in the feet that connect to the mind, often a headache can be relieved with a simple foot massage. But then, you most likely know that being a healer. However, I fear yours has become too advanced for that, but this will be a good start. I can see the tension in your neck and back, my Lord, you have been neglecting yourself."

Elrond sighed at the young Prince's touch; he was indeed talented for one so young and lacking in formal education in the healing arts. He began breathing deeply and could feel the pain in his head lessening as the Prince worked his magic. "That feels wonderful..." he heard himself say.

Thranduil softly laughed, "I am glad to be of service to you, my Lord."

Elrond thought it interesting how the young Prince deferred to him as though he were his superior; technically, they were of the same rank, although Elrond did not carry the title. He had suspected that Thranduil may have fancied him, but it seemed that from his earlier comment he did not. Elrond did know that the Prince respected him and despite the fact that the often annoying messages he bore that had threatening undercurrents, Thranduil regarded him with a great deal of respect, almost reverence. Before he knew it, the Prince had finished with his feet and had risen from the bed and covered them with a warm blanket.

He heard the Elf's soft voice again, "Roll over to your stomach, my Lord. I will work on your back now."

Elrond rolled to his stomach and once again felt the bed sink under the young Elf's weight. He felt the Prince straddle his lower back, resting just on his knees and his heels, keeping his weight off of Elrond's body. He felt the drizzle of warm oil on his back as the Prince's strong hands began kneading the young Elf Lord's flesh and muscles, drawing a soft moan from him. He had not realized how tense he was, and Thranduil leaned into him as he slowly and gently worked the knots out of his muscles. The feeling of the Prince's warm, strong hands gliding through the oil, sliding across his skin in long deep strokes, pressing him into the bed, as his soft hair just brushed the flesh on his back was enticing, Elrond felt his burgeoning arousal press against the cloth of his leggings and into the soft bedding. Soft moans and sighs were escaping him almost against his will as the Prince continued his ministrations. After several minutes of this he almost fell asleep, he was far more relaxed than he had been in months.

Once again he heard that musical voice whisper, "Sit up, my Lord." Elrond opened his eyes and sat up, Thranduil was standing next to the bed, wiping the excess oil off his hands. The Prince gently smiled, "If you would slide forward just a bit I can finish my work." He was whispering, and it seemed as if that was the only sound Elrond could hear, all the noises from outside the tent had faded away and all that existed at that moment was the two of them in the warm, dim confines of the tent. Elrond slid toward the foot of the bed and watched over his shoulder as the Prince unbuttoned his tunic to prevent the buttons from pressing into his back. He felt Thranduil climb on the bed behind him, "Lean back, my Lord," Elrond did as instructed and felt himself come to rest between the Prince's legs, against his strong chest.

He felt the heat from Thranduil's body and the warm, soft skin of his stomach against his bare neck and shoulders as the Prince pulled his hair around and draped it over his shoulder. He began slowly and gently massaging his scalp and Elrond felt as if he would be undone at his touch. His breath shuddered and caught in his chest, his eyelids fluttered shut and his lips parted, allowing a sigh to escape them. 'By Elbereth, his hands are magic...' the Elf Lord thought. He could feel the Prince's hair lightly brush his face as he leaned into his work. Elrond's hands slowly lifted from his sides and came to rest upon the powerful thighs of his masseuse, as he unconsciously began to slide them up and down the young Prince's thighs. He felt the Prince shudder at this touch and heard his breath catch in his throat and he smiled. 'So your preferences seemed to have changed, meldiramin...' he thought. Thranduil did not stop his work, nor did he protest as Elrond continued to stroke his legs, his hands traveling up and around his thighs, grasping the outsides and pulling the Prince's legs in. He felt Thranduil sink back into the head of the bed, sliding down ever so slightly, as he began to quietly moan. His hands traveled from Elrond's head to his shoulders, resting there for just a moment before continuing to his chest, his fingers absently playing in the soft growth of hair. Elrond arched his back and sat up, turning to face Thranduil. The young Prince lay back against the head of the bed, his eyes were a deep lapis blue and his lips were slightly parted. He could see the beginnings of the Prince's arousal through the suede of his leggings. 'By the Valar, he is remarkable...' Elrond thought. He leaned closer, looking deep into Thranduil's eyes as he stroked his chest. His skin felt so soft and warm, he felt so good, he wanted him, and he wanted to kiss him, to touch him; he wanted to take him.

His fingers trailed down the Prince's abdomen and across the rising bulge in his leggings causing him to moan. Elrond's lips were inches from Thranduil's and he whispered, "You have helped me a great deal, Thranduil. I feel rejuvenated, perhaps I could return the favor..." He pressed his lips against the Prince's as he slid the flat of his palm over the rise in his leggings. Thranduil moaned into his kiss as Elrond leaned into him, pressing his body to his and sliding his other hand up into the mane of flaxen hair. Thranduil wrapped one leg around him as he melted into the healer's kiss, quietly moaning, his hands traveling up Elrond's back as he began to slide further down onto the bed. Elrond's hands groped at the Prince's tunic pushing it off his shoulders as he leaned against him.

As the two young warriors kissed and touched one another, their hands roaming and mouths exploring, they did not hear the flap of the tent raise, nor did they sense the presence of the High King. Gil-galad stood in the doorway to the tent, watching with a sense of shock and despair as he saw his lover ravage the young Mirkwood Prince. He quietly lowered his head and left the tent before his presence was discovered.

Elrond's mouth reluctantly left Thranduil's and made its way down the Prince's rippled abdomen, pausing at each nipple, licking and nipping at them until they were taught. The Prince groaned; his hands tangled in the Elf Lord's raven hair as he arched his back, pressing his chest up into Elrond's mouth. Elrond grasped the tops of his leggings and pulled them down and off, as his mouth made it's way ever lower, toward the Prince's arousal. Thranduil smiled, then gasped as he felt Elrond's warm, wet mouth encircle his desire. He clenched his jaw and growled as he felt the Elf Lord take him into the back of his throat and then withdraw before repeating his motion, over and over. The Prince began to thrust inside his mouth and after an eternity of wet, warm, swirling suction the he groaned loudly as he spent himself down Elrond's throat. Elrond made his way back up Thranduil's chest, kissing, licking, and nipping his abdomen until he reached his beautiful mouth again. He pressed a deep kiss to the Prince and felt himself be pulled into him as Thranduil encircled his body in his strong arms, his hands sliding in to his hair and down his back to grasp his buttocks.

As Elrond slowly pulled away from him he was amazed once again at how stunning he was, how good he felt, and how beautiful he sounded. He smiled and whispered, "I thought your preferences did not lean this way, meldiramin."

Thranduil softly chuckled, "They do not, however, I appear to have made an exception in your case, my Lord."

Elrond smiled gently, "I am your first male then?"

Thranduil whispered, "Yes, my Lord. You are."

Elrond smiled wickedly, "Then you have just begun to see what you have been missing, meldir." He rose to his knees and removed his own leggings, exposing his erect desire, "I will be happy to instruct you, melethron," he whispered. Thranduil sat up and grasped Elrond by the back of the neck, roughly pulling him back down as his other hand made it's way down his abdomen to his arousal. He grasped it and began stroking and squeezing lightly, his thumb grazing the weeping tip. Elrond groaned, "I thought you had not done this before..." he gasped as the Prince's hands stroked and squeezed him.

He whispered in the Elf Lord's ear, "I have not, not to another male. I have pleasured myself on more than one occasion, however."

Elrond's eyelids began to flutter and his eyes rolled back in his head as the rhythm increased, the relentless tempo driving him toward completion. "Ai, Thranduil, you are killing me," he gasped.

Thranduil abruptly sat up, flipping Elrond to his stomach and lying against him, licking and nipping his back and shoulders. The Elf Lord groaned as he felt the Prince's reawakened desire slide in between his buttocks. Thranduil growled, "There is something I have always been curious about, my Lord."

Elrond groaned and bucked his hips back into the Prince as he breathlessly replied, "What?"

"I have always wondered what it would feel like to enter a male," before Elrond could reply he felt warm oil drizzle across his buttocks, lubricated fingers press inside him and then the Prince's arousal press against his opening. He took a deep breath, forcing himself to relax as he felt his oiled arousal press inside, sliding past the tight ring of muscle and sheathing himself in one smooth stroke. Thranduil groaned as he felt the tight heat surround him, he leaned down and growled in the Elf Lord's ear, "I have heard talk of a place deep inside a male that causes immeasurable pleasure. I intend to find it in you, my Lord." Elrond groaned loudly as Thranduil began driving inside him, experimenting with depth and angle until he found it. Elrond arched his back and groaned his name as he bucked back against him. Thranduil smiled, "So you thought to teach me a thing or two, my Lord? It appears I do not need your instruction."

"Curse you, Thranduil," he moaned, "What are you doing to me? Curse you and your beauty."

Thranduil softly chuckled as he continued to drive inside him, relentlessly hitting his mark each a and every time, "Curse me all you like, my Lord, but your body says otherwise." He moaned again as he felt himself come to completion, spilling himself in the Elf Lord's body. He drew a deep breath as he leaned his head back, lazily staring up at he ceiling of the tent as he sporadically twitched inside him. Each twitch caused the healer to moan and whimper, his own unsatisfied desire still pressing into his belly. "By Elbereth, you are right," he hoarsely whispered, "I have been missing quite a bit." He slowly cast his gaze back down to the whimpering, shuddering Elf on the bed. "I apologize, my Lord. I have left you unfulfilled," he reached down, still inside him, and scooped Elrond's half limp body up off the bed, cradling him against his chest as he reached around him and resumed stroking his engorged desire. Elrond leaned back against him, feeling his warm, soft lips on his neck, his hand sliding up and down his length with increased tempo and pressure. As he climaxed he appeared to lose the ability to speak, he could only moan and whimper as the Prince claimed his body. He felt Thranduil slowly withdraw from him and gently lay him upon the bed. A warm, soft cloth stroked his belly as the Prince gently cleaned him. He then felt the soft bedding being drawn up around his spent and naked body as he sank into the bed. A few moments later he felt the silken hair of the Prince fall around his face and his soft lips upon his cheek. "I really must return to my father now, my Lord. Thank you for a very enlightening evening, one I will not soon forget," he pressed his lips to Elrond's ear, "Sleep well, my Lord, and if I do not see you again, namarie."

Elrond rose up and looked about the tent but the Prince was gone. He prayed that Thranduil would survive the battle tomorrow and was suddenly overcome with guilt at his infidelity. He closed his eyes but did not sleep.

Epilogue...
End of the Second Age, Year, 3434, The Plain of Dagorlad, Mordor

Thranduil stood in stunned disbelief as he watched his father's troops be driven toward the marshes; he watched them fall, one by one as they tried to retreat. He could not speak, he could not even cry out as he saw, with his keen sight, his own father fall. He turned his tear-stained face and looked back over his shoulder to see Elrond, standing beside his King, a look of pain and despair upon his face. The Elf Lord's wise gray eyes met his cloudy blue gaze and silently offered comfort for a brief moment before quickly looking away. The High King was rallying his troops, attempting to rescue the doomed Elves but it was too late, they were all dead. He wept, his last words to his father had been spoken in anger, and now he would never have the chance to atone for them. He and his regiment had stayed behind with the High King's forces rather than march in with his father.

Glorfindel lowered his head and said a prayer for the fallen Sindar. Oropher, in his pride and haste, had led his troops in too early and as a result they had perished. Thranduil had stayed behind to lead a rear assault, following Elrond's advice, and as a result he survived to see his father fall. Now they rode in to battle together and even in his insurmountable pain and grief the Mirkwood Prince fought valiantly, felling the enemy in extraordinary numbers.

After a long year of struggle and pain the Last Alliance defeated Sauron with one stroke of Narsil. Gil-galad was slain, as was Elendil. Isildur, the King's son delivered the deadly blow. Glorfindel left with his Lord; Elrond inherited Vilya from Gil-galad and traveled to his new realm of Imladris. Thranduil led what was left of the Sindar back to Greenwood; he was now King of that realm, though he did not wish to be. Isildur kept the ring, when he should have destroyed it, and while Middle Earth was free of evil for the moment... the Elves knew it would return.

Elrond came to find out that the High King witnessed his infidelity and soon after, his lover perished in the assault on the Black Gates. He never forgave himself for what he did and came to blame Thranduil, feeling the Mirkwood Prince bewitched him. Thus, came to pass the long history of animosity between the realms of Mirkwood and Imladris.

*****

THE END

Go to the next story in the series: A Perfect Fit

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