Faramir Fiction Archive

Warriors of Gondor (NC-17)

Written by Hel

14 May 2012 | 182144 words | Work in Progress

Part 33: PREPARATIONS

Since Estel had insisted that he not only join this small council but sit among them, Boromir sat on the floor at his liege’s feet or, more correctly, at his and Arwen’s feet. They were in Elrond’s study along with Mithrandir, Glorfindel, Erestor, Legolas and the Lord of Rivendell himself. For the first time in his memory he felt uneasy, almost embarrassed by the subject they’d come to discuss.

“So, your dreams caused no difficulty traveling the wilds on your way to us?” Elrond questioned again.

“I have shared dreams with my brother the whole of his life,” Boromir told him, letting his exasperation show with his tone. “I have been a warrior of my people for over twenty-five years and always the dreams have been with me. Normally they are but a shadow of thought, just enough to comfort us when parted. What happened the other night is something I’ve never encountered before.”

“It was Silvan magic,” Legolas hurried to say before Elrond could ask another of the same questions he’d been asking. “That combined with what Boromir normally shares with his brother was bound to be outside of all of our experiences. I have no urge to perform the same type of magic once we have departed on our quest, even if I could. I’ve no doubt at all that he will be fine on the trail. There will also be Gandalf, Estel and myself to assist if needed.”

“I think that we can trust Boromir in this,” the wizard said, surprising Boromir with his support. “Long have I known of his connection with his brother, though I must admit that until recent events I was not so sure of it.” Boromir could only guess that his apology and long discussion with the wizard on the situation in Gondor and Rohan had aided Gandalf’s comprehension of the situation.

Boromir sought to assure the group that the dreams would not interfere with their quest. “I understand as well as anyone, if not more, the danger that could befall us if I were to broadcast or be incapacitated in such an exchange while on the trail to the south,” he said.

“Still,” the elven lord responded, “I, and I think all of us, would feel more comfortable if you worked with my daughter, Arwen, to gain more control.”

“Agreed,” Boromir replied, his eyes rising with admiration to his Liege Lady. “I have nothing but confidence in her ability. It would be my pleasure to work with her in this.”

With a smile, Arwen reached a hand down to stroke Boromir’s hair. “It is I who am pleased, and more than pleased to work with the Sword of Gondor. There is much, I’m sure, I will be able to learn from one who has spent most of his life in such a bond. The gift of prophecy he has shared with his brother is an added boon.”

Elrond was not sure what to make of his daughter’s words or actions. The man from Gondor was nothing like he had expected. His own dreams had been filled with the dark visages of an arrogant lord who neither gave, nor asked for, quarter. He was not prepared for the winsome person he’d slowly been getting to know and respect. Here was an experienced warrior and commander, long used to battle and the ordering of troops. Yet, here was also a patient and gentle teacher who spent endless hours working with peoples he’d never encountered before to make sure that they would be able to work together on their future journey. A journey which saw at its end the loss of the kingdom his father had chosen for him.

He couldn’t hide the smile that curved his lips as he watched Boromir nuzzle his cheek into Estel’s leg as he readily accepted the familiar petting of Arwen. There was no need to hide it either, as all those present, except Boromir, had the same expression on their faces.

Maybe there was a better chance for the quest to succeed than he had foreseen.

THE WILD ELF OF MIRKWOOD

It was late afternoon when Legolas lured Boromir to the bed they shared for a little pre-dinner diversion. As they lay panting to recover their breath, Legolas gently fondled Boromir’s cock. He smiled as it began stiffening, even though they had both just climaxed only moments before.

“How can you do that?” he asked.

“What?” Boromir queried, enjoying the stimulating hand.

“Get hard again so quick, stay hard so long,” he clarified. “I’ve never known anyone else, elf or man, who could do that.”

Boromir laughed at his words. “My brother is the same. We have had a couple of times when we could get away from the fighting for a few days and spent the whole time having sex. When we were younger, I would lie with him in my arms at night and see how long I could wait before I would have to leave the bed and find my release in my own hand or with a servant. But then, as soon as I got back in the bed and felt his warm body next to mine, I was hard again. I didn’t want to go too far with him when he was young. After a while, I got so that I could sleep fairly decently with an erection. But it started getting difficult again when he started having the same problem I had.”

“Your father let you sleep together?” Legolas asked, obviously surprised.

“Oh no,” Boromir laughed. “I cut a hole between our rooms, and then Faramir had the servants turn it into a concealed doorway. Father was livid when he found out, though that was years later.”

Legolas was laughing at his tale, but stopped suddenly, cocking his head to the side as if listening. His face went through a multitude of expressions and then he looked at Boromir in alarm. “I need you to do a favor for me, Boromir,” he said.

“A favor?” Boromir asked, his voice full of suspicion after having been trapped into uncomfortable circumstances by previous ‘favors’ for the elf. He didn’t notice the sound of many horses arriving in the courtyard below their balcony.

“It’s about my father,” Legolas said in a rush. “He doesn’t want me to go on the quest, he wants me to return home.”

“And I can help you with this?” Boromir queried.

“Oh yes!” the elf exclaimed in excitement. “You are the only one, and I know you will enjoy it as well.”

About this time, even Boromir could hear the yelling in the outer chamber of Legolas’s rooms. “I don’t think I’m going to like this,” he said.

“You’ll love it,” Legolas promised. “I haven’t led you wrong yet, have I?”

“If I get killed because of this, I’ll haunt you forever,” Boromir told him with a groan of capitulation.

“Just go along with me, please,” Legolas begged before sitting up suddenly and putting his mouth over Boromir’s semi-hard penis, sucking it to full hardness and leaving it wet and glistening with his saliva. Just then, the door slammed open and an enraged elf stepped into the room. “My father is here,” Legolas said unnecessarily, as Boromir recognized the elf from the paintings he was standing in front of.

“Have you ever seen such a magnificent cock, father?” Legolas said in Sindarin, using his most persuasive manner. Boromir could only understand a few of his words, but had a good idea of their content as he watched Thranduil’s whole demeanor change. Legolas ran his tongue up Boromir’s cock and then sat back away from him as if in offering. “Wouldn’t you love to feel it in you?” he continued, running a fingertip where his tongue had been moments before. “Don’t you just want to ride this excellent body?” He brought his hand up Boromir’s body, drawing the older elf’s eyes with his movement.

As Boromir locked gazes with the legendary ‘Wild Elf of Mirkwood’ he felt his cock harden even more. The look had changed from rage to burning lust. Thranduil approached the bed, throwing off his clothes as he went. Of course, he was wearing very little in the first place – just a low-cut pair of skintight pants, boots, weapons and a cape. It all hit the floor with amazing speed and then he was on the bed.

The king crawled over Boromir, using centuries of skill to excite him even more. He recognized the challenging look in the elf’s eyes and was more then willing to meet it. Grasping Thranduil’s rigid cock, he squeezed the firm flesh, noting that a ring went in through the slit at the end of the elf’s penis and came out the top of the head. Unable to resist, he gave it a gentle tug and heard Thranduil gasp in pleasure. Boromir’s other hand ran up the muscled chest and he hooked a finger in the chain connecting the two nipple rings. The response he received brought a lascivious grin to his face.

Legolas quickly slipped out of the room, grabbing a robe on his way. He gave a sorrowful glance to his paintings as he left, knowing that his father would not let him keep them. Saelbeth looked at him in shock as he closed the door. “How many did he bring with him?” Legolas asked, rushing to the window. A small troop of elves waited below in the courtyard, still mounted on their horses, one holding the king’s mount. With relief, he saw that none of his siblings were with them, so his orders wouldn’t be countermanded until his father was finished with Boromir. And that would be a long time if he knew either of them at all.

“Straighten out this room and make sure no one disturbs them,” he ordered, as he dressed himself, not waiting for an answer to his first question.

“How long do you think the human can distract him?” Saelbeth asked.

“Longer than he’s ever been distracted before,” Legolas said with a mischievous smile. “Just make sure no one bothers them. You know that Ada won’t let himself be outdone by a human, and Boromir can last for a very long time.” With that, he went to see Lord Elrond and make arrangements for housing Thranduil’s entourage.

Elrond waited for Thranduil’s approach in the side courtyard that fronted the Mirkwood wing, Glorfindel at his side. He truly hoped that Legolas’s plan would work, at least enough so that there wouldn’t be another war to worry about. As the wood elves rode into the courtyard at nearly full speed, Elrond felt a thrill of lust at the sight of their leader stopping his mount with precision. They glared briefly at each other before the King leaped from his horse and strode to the wing that housed the delegation from Mirkwood.

Moments later, the loud pleadings of Saelbeth were accompanied by the angry yelling of Thranduil. The sound of a door slamming against the wall was followed by silence. All of the elves in the courtyard looked at each other tensely. Elrond noticed Bilbo cowering in a corner, startled by the sight of his long-ago jailer. Suddenly he was very glad that the dwarves preferred to be farther from the courtyard, where caves had been transformed into living quarters for them.

There was a sigh of relief all around as Legolas appeared. “Lord Elrond,” he called as he strode across the courtyard, his hair unusually mussed and his tunic mis-buttoned. “We would be grateful if you could provide lodging for my father’s men and horses.”

“Of course,” Elrond responded with a raised eyebrow, giving a prearranged signal to the waiting servants.

Turning to his father’s escort, Legolas smiled brightly. “Father will be delayed a couple of days, and would like you to take your ease while you wait for him,” he told their leader.

“Can I speak with him?” asked the captain, fully aware of the tricks of the king’s youngest son.

“I’ll take you to where he’s at, but I wouldn’t suggest disturbing him,” Legolas said just as the King’s cry of ecstasy echoed in the courtyard. All eyes went to the balcony of Legolas’s room, in time to hear the King cry out again.

“More, faster, ride me harder,” he screamed in Sindarin. The looks on the faces of those who understood him ranged from shock to amusement.

“I don’t really need to talk to him now,” the captain conceded with a smirk. It had been a long time since anyone had convinced the King to bottom. Sliding from his horse, he leaned close to the prince. “What sort of elf do you have up there?” he asked in a whisper.

“It’s a man,” Legolas replied, not even trying to hide his glee.

“This I will have to see,” the captain said. “Later, though.”

Once the escort and their horses were led away, Legolas approached Elrond and Glorfindel. The latter was trying to suppress his laughter so hard that he was actually snorting. “I will have servants warn the unsuspecting away from this courtyard,” Elrond told him, casting a reproving glance at Glorfindel, who’d finally lost control and was snickering. “Maybe your father would be willing to join us for supper?”

“In about three or four days, I would guess,” Legolas said. “But then, he will probably just want to return home.”

For all his experience, Boromir was a man just forty years of age. Beneath him impaled by his thrusting cock lay a creature born at the very dawn of time, while all the world still lay in darkness. Yet, they were well matched. It wasn’t even the freshness of his human age and heritage that made the difference, but more Boromir himself.

Hour after hour they continued. Legolas would wait patiently at the door until he heard them, then he would quickly enter the room and bring food and drink, taking away the used dishes. He planned to let them keep each other busy as long as possible. His father would lose more of his anger the longer they took.

“I think Merry and Pippin are in danger of becoming thin,” Aragorn said as he entered Legolas’ sitting room. “They’ve spent most of the last three days in the tree watching.”

“I tried joining them for a while, but I kept losing my grip,” Legolas replied. “You wouldn’t believe some of the things they have been doing to each other. Boromir is far more experienced then I thought.”

“He’s made it a habit to visit every whore in every town he goes to since he was fifteen,” Aragorn laughed. “Not to mention the bonding process he and his brother use to assure loyalty and the tons of children across Gondor and Rohan that belong to them. Boromir’s oldest son is twenty-five and Faramir’s is twenty-two. They may be humans but they’ve each almost made a profession of sex.”

“I am ready for them to stop now,” Legolas almost pouted. “Hardly any work has been getting done because everyone who comes within smelling distance of my rooms is practically rutting in the halls.”

“Have you worn them all out, my friend?” Aragorn asked with a smirk.

“Yes,” the elf confirmed. “And I have to wait for them to come to me. Ada would kill me if I weren’t here when he finishes. Is Elrond angry?”

“Livid,” the man replied. “He pretends not to notice your and Boromir’s absence or the extra guests, but he is very short tempered with everyone. I’m sure he considers it a serious breech of etiquette that Thranduil didn’t ask for permission to enter Imladris, and didn’t greet him when he got here. The fact that they haven’t said a single word to each other in over three thousand years not withstanding, I think he is quite put out.”

“You would think they would get over it after all this time,” Legolas responded, rolling his eyes. Then a grin came across his face. “You wouldn’t have a little time you could spare for an old friend?” he asked.

They hadn’t slept in three days. Boromir had completely recovered from his lonely trek and was up to his usual stamina. Elves normally needed less sleep than men and Thranduil was an ancient elf of great power who had never needed much sleep. So far, the thought of stopping hadn’t crossed either of their minds. The hours passed in a lust- filled haze aided by the constantly replenished trays of food and drink, as well as the bathing room which added even more interesting dimensions.

But, finally, after nearly five days, both man and elf were tired and sore. At least enough to call a draw to their undeclared competition for now. Boromir chose to soak for just a bit longer as Thranduil pulled on his clean clothes that waited folded neatly on a chest near the door. As he fastened the clasp to his cape, he noticed the paintings on the wall and ripped them from their frames, even though he felt more than a little complimented by their presence.

“Ada,” Legolas said, going to his knees as his father entered the anteroom of the suite.

Thranduil chastised himself thoroughly even as he succumbed to the sweet pleading of his youngest child. “What am I to do with you?” he questioned as he thrust the paintings into the merrily burning fireplace, not that he didn’t suspect that more of the same waited in some concealed trunk.

“I only live to serve,” Legolas replied as he gazed up adoringly with limpid blue eyes.

‘Yes,’ Thranduil thought, ‘he knows just how to play me.’ Looking down into the sweet face at his feet, he warned: “One of these days you just might go too far!”

Boromir leaned against the doorframe between the two rooms and watched the reunion of father and son. He felt more than a little jealous at their loving exchange. His relationship with his own father had been strained for so long that he couldn’t even imagine them with such a close bond.

“I live as you have taught me, Ada,” Legolas said with all the ingenuity of a favored child. His lips pressed to the inside of Thranduil’s thigh causing a noticeable jump in the ancient elf’s cock. “This is my errand, Ada. What I have waited through the long ages of the world for. Whether it brings me death or allows me to return to your side, I must fulfill my destiny.”

Thranduil looked down at the sweet and loving face. This was his most lamented weakness, his best beloved strength. His eternally youthful youngest child who had brought him control of the northern Greenwood with his birth, as only a treaty child could. It was Legolas’s ethereal beauty that had brought near ruin to the last great joining of men and elves and his sense of justice that had kept the peace. Orophir himself had died in battle against Sauron rather than against the men he’d felt had violated his beloved grandchild on that fateful night he’d wandered into the wrong tent.

Of course, Thranduil would never be completely sure what role Legolas had in the whole sordid affair. Legolas had been young and impressionable at the time, only a thousand years or so. But, nevertheless, here at his feet, was the most desirable creature in all Middle Earth.

“My lovely, beautiful child,” he whispered in exasperation. “Only you would vex me so.” He turned his head and looked at the man leaning against the doorway to the inner-chamber with only a towel about his hips. “Am I foolish to trust you to the care of this man?”

“I would care for myself, Ada,” Legolas said indignantly.

“I’m sure you’d try, my son, but you face dangers not seen in this world for an age or more. Brave and strong as you are, I have sheltered you beyond the norm.” Thranduil ran a hand through the long blond strands of his son’s head. “It would crush me and all those of the fading Greenwood if we lost you. Especially now, as the enemy presses us so sorely.”

Legolas sighed deeply and pressed another kiss to his father’s thigh. “No matter the day or the year, I will return to you, Ada. Such has been foretold by all the seers of our people. I know it pains you to release me, but neither of us has a choice. It is time for me to take my place in the world.”

For only a moment of time Thranduil bowed his head in defeat. Then, he straightened and strode toward the main door of the suite. “I expect you to have a full report when you return home and to bring honor to our people.” Turning toward the man observing their exchange, he continued. “He is my youngest, my most beloved. If you can, bring him back to me.”

Boromir grinned at the Eldar’s words. “He is my friend, my Lord. If it lies in my power, he will return to you in much the same shape as he is before us today.”

Thranduil stopped at the man’s words and turned to look at his son. “I leave you in the care of a man I deem most capable, but I expect that he need not tend you as a youngling.”

“I will prove your faith, Ada,” Legolas said with conviction. “I live to serve.”

It was the second time Thranduil had heard the phrase from his son, but he thought he was beginning to discern a pattern in his behavior. “I only live for your return, my son,” he said.

“I would help to drive the darkness from Middle Earth so that all the magic of our kind need not be exiled from this plane.” Legolas’s honest blue eyes looked up into his as he continued, “We shall remain here as long as we desire and not a moment less.”

With a final nod, Thranduil left the suite only to encounter Elrond in the corridor.

“You could at least stop and spend a minute with me so we can update each other on our mutual positions,” Elrond said.

“Haven’t we gone past this?” Thranduil questioned as they paced each other down the corridor.

“We are at war against a common enemy,” Elrond countered. “Don’t you think it might aid us both to keep abreast of each other’s plans?”

“Is there some event that has happened in my realm that you have not been apprised of in the last millennium?” Thranduil asked caustically. “Those of our people who keep the borders also keep us both informed. What more do you need?”

“Perhaps we could coordinate our efforts,” Elrond replied.

“You have so many fighters to spare, Elrond?” The blond king sneered down at the Lord of Imladris. “I have been away from my realm too long, stop wasting my time with your pathetic efforts at friendship. I’ve no time to spare and less patience than time.”

“There will be great changes wrought with the destruction of the great ring,” Elrond said in a lowered voice. “Things will be far different from what we’ve all become accustomed to.”

“I was born before your parents peeked between their mother’s thighs, Elrond,” Thranduil rebutted. “In the starlight, I spent my youth. I will not be one of those shy shadows of elfdom that seeks to return across the wide water and escape the fate of Middle Earth. As for great rings, they might as well be bawdy baubles, of which I have plenty. I do not keep my realm by power wrought from elven blood or the Dark One’s trickery. What next?”

Elrond blushed at Thranduil’s words. “Still the same after all these centuries,” he said sadly. “Legolas’s presence had given me hope that we could overcome our past differences.”

As they entered the courtyard below where Thranduil’s guard awaited ready for the trail, the king stopped and turned his full attention to the other elf. “You make a grave mistake in seeking to use my son as a tool,” he hissed in rage. “I do not keep him at my beck and call as a mere political tool or allow him to fritter away his time on useless journeys of revenge.” His words an open challenge and rebuke to Elrond’s own sons.

Turning, he walked briskly to where his captain held his horse ready for him to mount. Once in the saddle, he continued at a more normal tone. “I return now to fight the forces of darkness which plague my land. Come Spring, we will all see where I go next.” With the threat still heavy in the air, he rode at speed from the valley.

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