In the Woodland Realm
The press of lips was still imprinted on Elrohir even though Legolas had leaned back to smile down at him.
It was hard to get the words out but once they started they came in a torrent. “Incandescent? That is not a word I ever thought to hear in reference to me.” Grey eyes met the green ones, steady and warm above him. “It has always seemed a burden—fiery tempered, hot headed, impulsive, volatile—those are words I’ve heard to describe me. It has been a challenge to subdue it and control it, as you know.”
“I would never want or expect you to subdue it, Elrohir. It is you—that fire is the light that blazes forth and leads me to you. I can sense it when you are not near me and when I am close the heat of it burns away the sea, the shadow, everything but you.” Legolas fingers gently traced the planes of Elrohir’s face. “You are so many things, my Elrohir. Warrior, scholar, healer, mentor. All facets of you, that make you who you are, unique and perfect,” Legolas said.
Elrohir shook his head. “I am a warrior yes, but not the other things you mentioned, Legolas. Not scholar nor mentor and certainly not a healer. Those skills did not manifest in me.”
The green eyes moved closer as Legolas leaned over him, strands of his golden hair falling on Elrohir’s face and neck, the scent of him—green and crisp like the forest after rainfall, musk and spice, leather and wood, layering to his own unique fragrance—a scent Elrohir would recognize anywhere. “You are my healer, Elrohir. Deny it if you will but I know you make me whole.”
His lips found Elrohir’s again with an intensity that flushed heat through every part of him, all his focus coming down to the glide of their mouths and tongues against each other, the forest around them fading to just the green of Legolas’ eyes.
Fingers gripped Elrohir’s shoulders and he felt the weight of his companion on his body as Legolas moved to straddle his hips, the heat now moving to his groin at the contact.
His own hands slid into the golden hair, his mouth pulling away to mumble. “Not here.”
Legolas pulled back, his hair still tickling Elrohir’s face, to regard him with amusement. “The trees are but silent witnesses. They will not speak of what they see.”
Elrohir flushed. “But this is a glade. You have patrols—we are not that far from the fortress.”
The laughter from Legolas made him blush even more, much as he loved the sound of it. A fingertip traced Elrohir’s lips. “My very proper Noldo. Have you never taken pleasure under a canopy of trees? Under the light of the stars?” His face grew more serious as he contemplated, moving off Elrohir to sit by his side. “But you have not, have you, my love? We are of this world. What greater place to celebrate our bond than with the trees, the sun, the stars to witness it?”
“It is not that . . .” Elrohir stumbled over his words. “It is not the location. It is just that there are others near. . . it is not what I am used to.”
There was an uncharacteristic gentleness to Legolas’ expression as he lightly placed his outstretched hand on Elrohir’s chest. “No, I suppose not.” A fond smile softened his features even further. “I have much to share with you then, in your time here.” He grasped Elrohir’s hand and pulled, rising effortlessly to his feet. “If this is too exposed we shall find another place to initiate you to love under the trees.”
Elrohir stumbled after him, Legolas’ hold on his hand steadying him. “It’s not like I’ve never . . .”
“I know that,” Legolas retorted. “But it is easy to see you prefer being indoors, sheltered and screened.”
“I would think most people would,” Elrohir muttered.
His companion’s laugh rang out again at his words. “You will make me work to find that spark of Sindar that I know lies within you, won’t you?”
“The Sindar are not Silvan,” Elrohir said primly.
“True but they are far closer to our ancestors in Cuiviénen than their Noldor counterparts. Let me have some hope, Elrohir, of reaching that part of you.” He tugged on Elrohir’s hand again. "Come. There is a flet nearby if the glade is not to your liking."
Elrohir gave him an incredulous look. "Legolas. These woods are crawling with your father’s guards and scouts. You can't be serious."
Legolas raised an eyebrow and proceeded to chirrup out an unfamiliar birdcall. Elrohir narrowed his eyes. Bird calls were not typically supposed to sound so amused.
"Problem solved, my Noldo. Come. Trust me no one will disturb us now."
A horrified realisation came upon Elrohir. "You didn't."
"I didn't what?" Legolas looked perplexed. He pulled on Elrohir's arm again but the larger Noldor didn't budge.
"You didn't just alert all the guards that. . . that . . . You know!" Elrohir spluttered.
"Really, Elrohir. First you worry about them stumbling upon us, then when I warn them not to disturb us that is not to your liking either?"
"Valar above, Legolas! I did not intend for you to alert them all about our private affairs!" Elrohir exclaimed.
Legolas sighed. "There is very little that is private among the Silvan, Elrohir. I warned them to stay away but to keep me informed of any unusual activity. The flet has screens and none will venture close. It will be just the two of us, I promise you."
"Can we not go back to your rooms in your father's Halls, Legolas?" Elrohir asked.
Legolas expression changed, the bright look faltering as his eyes met Elrohir's. "If that is what you prefer, we can," he said slowly. "But. . ."
Elrohir inhaled sharply at the change in Legolas’ features and inwardly cursed himself. "But what, Legolas? What did you want to say?" His voice was softer and he drew closer to Legolas as he spoke, intertwining their fingers and sweeping a strand of Legolas’ hair back as he did so.
"It is no matter, really. It is just that I had imagined this, us, in my woods--under the canopy of the trees--sharing our love in the Silvan way, in the forest."
Elrohir moved closer still, bending down to touch his lips to Legolas’. “Take me where you will, Legolas. This is your home. Teach me your ways,” he whispered.
The flet was not far and Legolas led him to it swiftly. Elrohir’s years of visiting Lothlorien stood him in good stead as he clambered up, his hands reaching from branch to branch as there was no ladder here. His progress was far slower than his counterpart’s; when he looked up he glimpsed Legolas’ grinning face above.
“You are more limber than I expected, my Elrohir. You do much better in the garb of the Greenwood than in your stiff leathers.”
Elrohir, having finally reached the flet itself, drew near Legolas; he was still ill at ease though, peering at the trees surrounding them suspiciously.
Legolas bright laughter rang out again, unconsciously relaxing Elrohir’s expression. “Even your sharp eyes will not see them. The scouts of the Greenwood are difficult even for one of their own to see. Trust me, they will stay away from this tree and the ones surrounding it.” He stood and moved to the far side of the tree, yanking at a previously unseen rope.
A fabric, as finely woven as those of Lothlorien Elrohir noted, drifted down around them. It was dappled in appearance, a grey that seemed to shift in color as it rippled in the gentle wind—shifting from green to gold and back to grey. Elrohir reached out to touch it. It slipped through his fingers like gossamer, smooth and silky to touch. But it did not keep his attention long as hands slid around him from behind.
He turned to meet Legolas, his arms going around his companion, bringing his body flush to his own. Mouths met and fingers ran through his hair as Elrohir’s grip on Legolas tightened further.
Legolas’ hands drifted down to his shoulders, his chest, lingered at the lacings of his tunic. He made quick work of opening them to slide his hands against Elrohir’s bare chest, causing him to draw his breath in sharply at the touch.
Elrohir’s own hands did the same, Legolas impatiently pulling the tunic over his head when Elrohir did not move quickly enough.
“You are impatient,” Elrohir murmured against his lips.
“When it concerns you, I most certainly am,” Legolas replied, tugging at Elrohir’s breeches, the fastenings already rapidly undone by his clever fingers. “You are slow, Noldo. Come. You cannot be shy with me anymore.”
“I am not shy with you,” Elrohir growled, stripping his tunic off and dropping it down carelessly. His fingers followed the planes of the muscles on Legolas’ torso, lingering over his abdomen before he moved them further down.
In moments, all their clothing lay strewn about them on the flet and Legolas pushed Elrohir until his back was against the great trunk of the tree, the bark scraping at his back. The tree, the forest, the nearby fortress and guards—all were forgotten as the heat of Legolas pressed against him and the answering desire in his body overcame his senses. He threw his head back, overcome with what Legolas was doing to him, his unfocused eyes seeing only the green and gold canopy of leaves above him.
As green and gold as the Elf before him. The light breeze wafted over Elrohir’s face, the buzz of insects and the cry of a hawk above him. His heart beat thrummed through him, faster and faster as the sensations coursed through his body until he was shuddering, the world blurring around him as he finally closed his eyes.
Green eyes met his own as Legolas stood and leaned into him. “Next time under the stars. I want to see their light reflected in your eyes, my love.”
Follow up gift fic for Cheekybeak. A second chapter for her lovely Elrohir/Legolas. This scene is based on cheekybeak's fic All of You--Legolas and Elrohir in the Woodland Realm.
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