Reflections Of A King's Courtesan

Posted: June 2003
Title: Reflections of a King's Courtesan
Series: Perfect Love
Sequel to: Love's Sacrifice
Author: Larien Elengasse
Type: FCS
Characters: Aragorn/Elladan, Elladan/Elrohir
Rating: R
Beta: Alex
Disclaimer: The characters in this story are not mine, they are the property of JRR Tolkien, I just decide their fates…
Warning (only if necessary): M/M Slash, Angst, and explicit sexual content
Summary/Notes: Elladan reflects on his life with Aragorn and says farewell.

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March 6th, 120, Fourth Age, Minas Tirith, Gondor

My lover died today. He fell asleep in my arms and did not wake up. I knew this day would come, after all, he was a Second Born, a Man. But then he was more than a Man, he was a Dúnedan, a descendant of a great line of Kings, a Númenor.

I stood at his tomb with my sister, his wife, and watched the procession of subjects and rulers pay their respects. I will miss him, more than I would have ever thought. Now, I am left to help my sister raise their two daughters and provide counsel to their son, his heir, Eldarion.

How do I begin to tell the strange story of these last years? It began as I was on holiday in Mirkwood, now called Eryn Lasgalen. Yes, I know, it was a strange place to holiday in those days, but I had my reasons. Our adventure to Mirkwood began with my participation in the abduction of Glorfindel, which is, in itself, a whole other story. It was a pleasant break to be away from the day-to-day boredom I had become accustomed to over the past several years.

After my twin brother, Elrohir, and I completed our quest of eliminating the last of the Orcs that kidnapped and tortured our mother, and we returned from years spent in the wild with the Northern Dúnedain, my life became rather routine. My days were spent cloistered in Erestor's offices pouring over mountains of paperwork and my nights were spent seducing as many Elf maids as possible in my short time before my departure for Mirkwood. Now, I know you must think that I was a spoiled young Elf Lord, taking advantage of all the benefits of being a Peredhil and co-heir to the realm of Imladris, but I assure you, my reasons for my roguish behavior were far more complex than that.

Shortly after I reached my majority, for you humans out there, that would be age fifty, I developed a rather unusual interest in my twin brother. Elrohir and I are almost identical in appearance, only those who know us well can tell us apart. Elrohir is the more physical of the two of us, preferring combat training and his work training horses to a life of study and introspection, which was the path I chose, or rather, my father chose for me. While Elrohir and I are almost identical in appearance, we are not identical in personality. Elrohir can be rather, shall we say… hot headed. He is prone to outbursts and losing his temper, he will often settle heated disputes with his fists rather than his wits. This is not to say that Elrohir is not highly intelligent, as most Elves are, just that he prefers to settle things the old fashioned way, so to speak.

Elrohir and I have always been close, which one would expect seeing as we are twins. We shared a bedroom until shortly after we reached our majority and most of our childhood we shared a bed. I suppose that is about the time my feelings toward my brother changed, when I began to think about pleasures of the flesh. Elrohir is striking, exotic, beautiful in every way imaginable. Tall, as most Elves are; thick dark brown hair, the color of his favorite bay stallion, with streaks of bright auburn from spending time outdoors; he is extremely toned, very muscular but not large, lean, but very fit; brilliant gray eyes, full lips, and his skin is slightly tanned, another difference between the Half-Elven and our other Elvish kin. I know it must sound strange for me to talk of his beauty, for we are identical twins, but when I look at him I do not really see myself, I see a more exotic, a more vibrant, version of me. I began to notice how he looked in his clothing. I would catch myself staring at him, particularly when he was naked, which he was every so often in my presence; after all, we are brothers. I found myself wondering what it would be like to kiss him, to caress his skin, to hold him in my arms; fairly innocent thoughts actually, full of romance and poetry. This went on for years; so many I have lost count.

Elrohir had his own obsession to deal with and I tried to help him. Elrohir was madly in love with Legolas, Son of King Thranduil, of the Mirkwood Realm, and a friend of ours since we were young. I will admit, Legolas is a beauty, a ‘stop what you are doing and turn and stare as he walks by' sort of beauty. Elegant body, sparkling sapphire blue eyes, he carries himself with an air of confidence and grace that is enchanting. Night after night, I would sit and watch Elrohir mope over the Mirkwood Prince, I would listen as he went on and on about his beauty, how much he wanted to hold him, how much he wanted to kiss him; all the while thinking the same things of my brother. Legolas was involved, shall we say, with our foster brother, Aragorn. Legolas and Aragorn had been lovers for years and all the while, my brother pined over the Mirkwood Prince. Eventually, Elrohir was able to win the affections of Legolas and he still loves him to this day. I dealt with my burgeoning obsession in the only way I knew how; I distracted myself. Elf maid after Elf maid I took to my bed, along with a few young Elf males, all the while dreaming of my brother and praying that it was just a strange infatuation; but it was not working. My obsession decreased in intensity, but it never disappeared. While I loved the softness and femininity of the Elf maids, there was always something missing.

Which brings me to the beginning of my strange tale. Legolas, Elrohir, and I returned to Imladris from Mirkwood. The One Ring belonging to the Dark Lord, Sauron, had been found and was brought to Imladris by four Hobbits who were assisted by Aragorn, again, another story in itself, one I am sure most of you are familiar with. Our father chose eight members of the council to escort the Ring Bearer, Frodo Baggins, a Hobbit, to Mordor. Legolas was one of those nine, as was Aragorn. Both Elrohir and I argued strenuously with father to let us accompany them but he would not hear of it, and considering what has happened, I believe he was right in his thinking. Elrohir would not let Legolas face this danger alone and insisted on going even without father's permission. I could not let Elrohir do this alone, so I accompanied him. The Ring made its presence known to me within weeks, I began to feel increasingly isolated from Elrohir as he became even more focused on Legolas. My feelings of loneliness and despair turned to anger and resentment, and even jealousy. I was burning inside with desire and want for my twin brother, and I turned this desire, this obsession, on Aragorn.

Aragorn and I became lovers one night on the banks of the Anduin River. I pulled him down into the sand and ravaged him like I had never done to anyone before. I was lonely and I needed someone to lie with, Aragorn happened to be that man. I came to like the taste of him, to enjoy coupling with him, and he fell in love with me. Aragorn and I had always been close; I helped raise him to be the man that he had become. Late in his eighty seventh year, I took him as my lover, and took is the right expression. I pulled him into the sand and took him like I took the Elf maids before him, only without the pretense of romance. There were no strolls in the garden, no flirtatious banter, no soft kisses after an evening out. There was just raw sensuality, lust and desire, nothing more. I consumed him like I was starving, I ravaged his mouth, his body, and it turns out, his soul. I stripped him of the one piece of innocence he had left, I was the first man to enter his body and claim it as my own, and in the process, I claimed his heart. As our strange journey progressed, we separated from the Ring Bearer, leaving him to travel to Mordor with one companion. Legolas, Elrohir, Gimli, Aragorn and I headed toward Rohan, in pursuit of two of the Hobbits that had been kidnapped. Aragorn and I developed a strange relationship; we became lovers, officially. We shared quarters and a bed for the rest of our journey, and for the rest of his life.

It was in Rohan that things took an even stranger turn. We were barricaded in at Helm's Deep, facing an army of tens of thousands of Orcs and Uruk-hai created by the White Wizard. Perhaps it was because we were facing death, or perhaps the presence of the Ring had worn down my resolve to the point of no return, but I crossed a line with my twin, one I could never cross back. I kissed him. I took his face in my hands and kissed him as though he was my lover, and he kissed me back. I could tell he was confused, I felt his tears wet my face, and I stopped, I left my brother standing in a dark corridor and went to my lover. I returned to my lover's bed, I told him what he needed to hear, that I loved him as he loved me. I did love him, but Elrohir was the one I loved like no other, the one that I wanted to give my heart and my soul to.

The night after the horrible battle at Helm's Deep, we returned to Edoras, where I officially became Aragorn's concubine, a role I filled until his death at sunrise this morning. I was an excellent lover, the best lover he had ever had. I took pride in pleasing my lover and in return, he trusted me, he loved me and he depended upon me. I was his advisor, his guard, his friend, his brother, and his lover; I was everything except his wife, the one thing I could never be, that was to be my sister's role. Our first night in Edoras after Helm's Deep, my lover was planning battle strategy with Rohan's King and my brother's lover, Legolas. I lay asleep in our bed, half drunk on the brandy I had consumed before closing my eyes. As I lay asleep, I felt the warm body of my brother join me, he came to me that night because of what I had done, the door I had opened with the kiss at Helm's Deep. That kiss set in motion a chain of events that seemed to take on a life of its own. Elrohir lay in bed with me, pressing his body to mine, and he begged me to take him. And I did; I took him as I took Aragorn, and in return, Elrohir took my heart. My love for Elrohir has never wavered, never dulled. Elrohir is my heart and my soul, my better half, my cuiamin, and he belongs to Legolas. Elrohir and I have never stopped loving one another, I could not ask my brother to leave the one he loved to stay with me, I knew we could never be together, no matter how much I loved him; our love is, after all, unnatural. So I settled, I settled for stolen moments with him, brief hours in which to lie in his arms, to make love to him, to join with him in body and spirit, before returning to the bed of my lover, my Aragorn.

Eventually the War of the Ring was won, Sauron was destroyed and my lover became King of the reunited peoples of Gondor and Arnor. We remained in Minas Tirith and my twin, my heart and soul, returned to Eryn Lasgalen with his lover. We have seen each other, now and then, as the years have slipped by, and now I do not know what will become of us. I no longer have my King, my lover, to lean upon. I am alone. I swore to Aragorn that I would stay and look after Arwen, look after their children, and help Eldarion become a wise and noble ruler; I intend to honor that promise. I am now Uncle Elladan, doting Uncle and Counselor to King Eldarion, but I am no one's lover, I am no one's a'maelamin. I look the same as I have since I was 100 years old, never changing, never aging, at least not on the outside. I suppose I should have no trouble finding another lover, but I will not seek another mortal to share my bed. How I came to be here from where I started, I do not know; but this is where I am, and it is where I shall stay until I am no longer needed.

And as for you, Aragorn Elessar, my a'maelamin, wherever you are, namaarie, meleth nín; I miss you.

*****

THE END

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