The Binding Gift
The eve of the battle before the Black Gate
There was an awed hush in the tent, as Legolas and Elrohir knelt facing one another with hands clasped. As they finished reciting their vows, Legolas gasped as his spirit reached out to touch Elrohir’s, yearning to meld completely with its mate. He was consumed with longing for that joining. Gazing at Elrohir, he saw the same need blazing from his eyes. Giddy with desire, he leaned in to take his first taste of the Elf-knight’s lips.
“Ahem. Well, I’ve had enough of Elven foolishness for one night. I think it high time to leave, eh Elladan?”
Legolas started. His need had so overwhelmed him that he had quite forgotten the presence of Gimli and Elladan, who had witnessed the simple ceremony.
“Aye Gimli, I quite agree. I fear that to see any more would upset your delicate sensibilities. And there are some acts I have no wish to see my brother perform.” Elladan clapped his twin’s shoulder. “I am happy for you, brother. I just wish I was able to give you a binding gift.”
“To have you here with us is all the gift we need,” murmured Elrohir, tearing his eyes from Legolas just long enough to smile at Elladan and Gimli.
“Aye, my friends, it means much to have you witness to this blessed moment,” agreed Legolas.
“We will leave you, then. I bid you a good night,” smiled Elladan. Just as he was ducking down to exit the tent he turned, with an impish glint in his eye. “But go easy on him, brother. Remember you will both be needing to ride on the morrow!”
The boot that a crimson-faced Elrohir flung missed him by inches.
The instant the pair turned back to each other, Elladan’s quip was quite forgotten. Neither recalled who made the first move, but in the space of a moment they were clinging to one another, lips sealed, tugging at each other’s fastenings in a desperate quest to touch bare flesh.
With a growl of triumph, Elrohir tore off Legolas’ shirt and flung it aside. He pushed his mate down onto the bedding and began a leisurely exploration of Legolas’ bared torso. Legolas wriggled with delight as Elrohir’s tongue found a sensitive spot in the hollow below his throat. He put up no resistance to Elrohir’s attentions, but arched into the contact, all the while his nimble fingers loosening Elrohir’s clothing.
He was just easing his mate’s leggings down his hips when Elrohir’s lips fastened to a nipple. A jolt of intense pleasure shot through his body and he was unable to hold back a throaty moan.
They both froze, painfully aware of how easily sound travelled at night. Their tent was within earshot of dozens of others. Neither the men of Gondor nor the Rohirrim would understand the wedding of two male spirits. If they were to lead these men into battle on the morrow, their relationship must not be discovered.
For several heartbeats the only sound within the tent was their ragged breathing as they strove to contain their passion. Finally Legolas grinned up at Elrohir.
‘I am sorry. But you must take your share of the blame. You make it nigh impossible for me to control myself.’
‘I could say the same for you.’ Elrohir ran appreciative eyes over Legolas’ body. ‘I never knew such beauty was possible in one not of the Valar. And to think that you are mine and mine alone!’
Thrilled by the possessive tone of that declaration, Legolas tangled his fingers in Elrohir’s hair and pulled him down into an ardent kiss.
‘Aye, I am yours,’ he murmured eventually against Elrohir’s lips. ‘Now have me as you will.’
At that, Elrohir could control himself no longer, but resumed the worship of his mate’s body, deftly removing his leggings as he did so. Soon they were both naked, relishing the slide of skin upon skin, whispering words of love and encouragement between kisses.
At first, ever mindful of where they were, they were able to stifle their more impassioned outbursts. However when Legolas wickedly tilted his hips so that their swollen shafts could slide together, they both cried out. Once again they froze, straining to hear if anyone commented on the odd noises emanating from the tent.
‘This is madness,’ whispered Elrohir. ‘Perhaps we should wait until we can have more privacy.’
Legolas’ eyes flashed. ‘Nay, I will not wait! This may be our last night this side of Mandos. I no longer care if we are heard; I just need to be one with you!’
With that he wound his legs around Elrohir’s waist and pulled him down. Elrohir’s restraint crumbled and he sank with a groan into his mate’s willing body.
Fortunately, just at that moment a gruff voice was raised in song, not far from their tent. To Legolas’ lust-fogged sense it sounded suspiciously like the dwarvern drinking song Gimli had taught him to distract him from the sea-longing as they sailed for the Pelennor. Soon the voice was joined by a clearer, higher one that nevertheless swelled to fill the night.
‘Ah, Gimli and Elladan, bless them!’ sighed Legolas.
Elrohir snorted. ‘Neither of those names are what I was hoping to hear from you, considering I’m…where I am.’
Legolas reached up and traced the line of his mate’s jaw with loving fingers. ‘And what would be more to your liking, beloved? This, maybe?’
And with that he flung back his head and gave voice to his ardour, confident in the knowledge that he would not be heard over Gimli and Elladan. It was not long before Elrohir joined him and their voices twined in passion. And over it all, Gimli and Elladan sang, offering the only binding gift they were able to give on this last night before the greatest battle of the age.