Green Shoots and Ashen Earth

by withallthatisleftofmyheart

Summary:

Adar doesn't die and is taken with the elves to (what becomes) Imladris/Rivendell.

This is a tale of reconciliation, making amends and healing from trauma. It deals with the emotional fallout post-Eregion.

Expect Adarond enemies to lovers, Adariel enemies to friends, and Adar/Gil-galad enemies to mutually beneficial arrangement of a sexual nature.

Chapter 1: Awakening

Summary:

Adar wakes up in a meadow but has no idea where he is or how he got there. Gil-galad and Elrond provide some insight. Adar tries to run away. Arondir carries him like a baby.

Special thanks to cloudbower for beta-reading.

Chapter playlist:
Current 93 & Clodagh Simons - Idumea
Portishead - Roads
Placebo - You Don't Care About Us

Adar dreamt of flames and darkness. Visions of his children, bloodied and burning, flooded his mind. In his arms, the warmth and weight of each and every babe that he had cradled. Upon his lips, the sensation of pressing to their cool foreheads as he bid them farewell. He saw the face of Mairon, beautiful and treacherous, jaw unlatched, poised to swallow him whole. Adar became the wine that had slithered down his own throat. Soft kisses upon his neck and needles in his skin. Morgoth’s crown was in his hands, plunging into The Deceiver's back. His children stabbed Sauron. His children stabbed him. His children stabbed each other. Adar drowned in an ocean of black blood. It smelt like burning flesh, volcanic ash and decimation. He was falling through oblivion. Above, Sauron’s eye bore into him. And then he awoke.

 

The first thing he noticed was the soothing sound of running water, then songbirds. And then he felt the pain. His body was agony all over, which was not unusual, but this time it felt different. He urged his eyes to open and felt the stickiness of tears that had been repeatedly shed and dried. The light was blinding at first, it had been a long time since he had witnessed a sky so blue. With a grunt, he pushed himself up to sit and saw that he was lying in a lush meadow, beside a river whose waters were crystal clear. He was all alone and could not recall how he came to be here. The last thing he remembered was…

 

He did not want to think about it just yet. Instead, he chose to inspect the wounds that seemed to cover his entire body. As he moved his fingers to search for tender spots, he discovered that he was not wearing his armour. In its place he found a linen gown of brightest white. Someone must have changed him, but who? Through the fabric he felt out the shapes of countless stab wounds. His fingers passed over a hard and jagged mountain range of new scars. He knew the topography of his body would soon settle to its usual state but for now they were a painful reminder. By the time he had finished his task he was exhausted again. He lay back into the soft grass and drifted off once more. 

 

This time he dreamt of an elven commander in shining armour, charging toward him on a white horse. Then, the same beautiful elf was sitting at the opposite end of a long table. These images were true to his memory, but in the dream, the elven commander walked the length of the table and kissed Adar so softly it made him weep. Then they were on a battlefield discussing the works of Rúmil while elves and uruks fought and died around them. Next, Adar was lying on his back with Sauron’s wicked face looming over him. He cried out in fear and the Dark Lord’s form shifted into that of the beautiful elf. He was singing a lullaby from the First Age.

“Commander Elrond?” Adar spoke from inside the dream.

 

“Adar,” the elf replied, “Adar, wake up. You must drink.”

“Elrond,” he croaked as his eyes opened once more. It was not Elrond who knelt beside him in the sunny meadow but High King Gil-galad, offering him a waterskin. The King’s face was stern, yet a hint of concern was visible in his eyes. Adar realised that he had just called out for Elrond, and with such familiarity. A pang of embarrassment shot through him.

“High King,” Adar muttered.

“Drink,” the King replied.

Adar’s body still pained him, but in more familiar ways. There was the stiffness and twinging of his left wrist, from when it had been repeatedly shattered by Mairon. Without his gauntlet, the joint buckled slightly as he pushed himself up to sit. He hissed at the pain and massaged his wrist. Gil-galad waited patiently. Adar then noticed that his legs were terribly tight and sore. He flexed and rotated his feet to relieve the ache. The movements were effective and well practised. When Adar was ready, he took the waterskin from the King and drank greedily. His thirst was so great that he finished the whole thing before wondering if it was poisoned. He did not have the strength for suspicion, so instead he chose to be grateful.

“Thank you,” he said, gasping for air.

The King’s only response was a “Hmm.”

Adar asked, “Where are we?”

The King stood up and offered out his hand. Adar hesitated but then took it and heaved himself up to standing. Immediately the world spun and it felt as though his legs had been knocked out from beneath him. He collapsed against the King’s broad shoulders and closed his eyes, waiting for the feeling to pass. Adar could hear the lullaby from his dream again. He realised that it was the King who was singing it. Gradually the ground became solid once more.

“You have a beautiful voice,” he noted as he tested out standing on his own. His knees wobbled.

Gil-galad held out an arm and he took it. Ignoring his compliment, the King said: “Many are displeased by your being here. Do not make me regret letting Elrond convince me to bring you,” before leading him out across the meadow.

As they walked, Adar considered. The King’s words were harsh and yet he had said them in the tone of an exasperated parent. He was unsure where he stood with the Elves, were they still his enemies or had Galadriel spoken with them? Was Galadriel even alive? Was Sauron? The questions made his head swim. He tried to keep his focus on putting one foot in front of another.

 

On the other side of the meadow, four guards were waiting. Their armour, dirtied and dented; their expressions, exhausted and wary. They moved to bind his wrists with silver manicals but halted when the King raised a hand,

“He has not the strength to walk without aid,” he gestured toward Adar, clutching his arm, “I hardly think he poses a threat.”

Adar did not like feeling weak. He had learnt a very long time ago that weakness was perilous. But there was naught he could do, besides eye the guards with just a hint of malice. Gil-galad resumed walking with Adar in tow and the guards filed in behind them.

“Will you tell me what I was doing in that meadow?” Adar asked.

The King replied, “You have many enemies. It was for their peace of mind and, I suppose, your own safety.”

Adar did not find that an adequate answer. He had no clue where they were or why the High King himself had personally come to retrieve him. It puzzled him that Elrond had supposedly beseeched the King to bring him here. But asking too many questions would put him on the back foot and he wanted to retain what little dignity he had. Also, talking and walking at the same time was very tiring.

 

More elves appeared, each more bedraggled than the last. They were huddled up in groups, throwing him scornful looks. A few even called out in anger, accusing him of slaying their loved ones.

And what of my children? He thought to himself. My children. He felt tears well in his eyes. So much death, on both sides. All for nothing. Sauron escaped and took Adar’s children with him. The gaping hole of grief ached inside his chest. Sensing the King’s eyes upon him, he looked up to meet his gaze. He supposed his face was stained with tears but made no attempt to hide them. Tears were not weakness, they were a measure of just how much of himself he had succeeded in retaining, despite centuries of torture, torment and isolation. Gil-galad appeared to be surprised by the sight and awkwardly patted Adar's hand.

“We must get some food in you,” the King announced, “I imagine you are starved.”

Adar’s belly felt as if it had been hollowed out, he nodded.

“Good,” said the King.

 

_______________

 

Before him lay a richly embroidered blanket, laden with a bounty of foraged berries and hunted game. It had been laid out before a large oak tree. Golden beams of dappled light streamed from between its leaves. They danced upon the face of Elrond, who was leaning against its trunk. The elf did not look happy to see him.

“I trust I can safely leave you in the company of my herald?” the King asked.

“Yes,” Adar confirmed, not taking his eyes from Elrond, who was garbed in flowing blue robes. He looked much smaller out of his armour but Adar had to admit, the elf looked quite… fetching. Gil-galad and the guards recused themselves, leaving him and Elrond staring at one another. His knees wobbled, then buckled. Just before he hit the ground, he felt arms close around him. He was enveloped in the scents of summer rain and rosemary.

“It would appear our roles have been reversed,” came Elrond’s dry tone in his ear, “Though I have the decency to not hold you by your throat.”

Adar grumbled and eased himself down to sit on the blanket. The elf sat down opposite him.

 

For a time they were silent as Adar scarfed down enough food to fill the bellies of three full grown uruks. Once he was sated, he looked up at Elrond and asked,

“Why did you bring me here?”

“You have Galadriel to thank for that,” he replied, “You both took quite the tumble.”

Adar was glad to hear that she had survived. It would seem that he was not the only one who had overestimated the efficacy of Morgoth’s crown.

“Can I see her?” he asked.

“No,” replied Elrond, “she has not yet fully recovered.”

His face looked pained, he clearly cared for her a great deal. A pang of something like jealousy ran through Adar, he was not sure why.

“Tell me what happened,” Elrond demanded.

Adar did not wish to speak of it. Though, he supposed he owed the elf at least some of the details.

“Galadriel and I fought Sauron. Though I fear I was not much help as I had already been...” he paused, “Injured.”

“I gathered that,” Elrond sniped, “What else?”

Adar clenched and unclenched his jaw, this elf was infuriating. But he continued,

“Sauron stabbed her with Morgoth’s crown. Then she placed Nenya in my hand and pushed me off of the cliff. I assume she followed?”

Elrond frowned, “Galadriel knows the power her ring possesses, why would she entrust it to you?” 

Anger was written across the elf's face.

“I did not have much time to think on it as I fell to my death,” Adar replied flatly. “Did Galadriel follow?” he pressed.

“She did,” Elrond replied, “What I do not understand is why the two of you were working together and why when we found you both, Galadriel was muttering your name and asking for you to be spared.”

“The enemy of my enemy is my friend,” said Adar with a slight smirk, though a spark of warmth entered his heart at the thought of Galadriel wishing for him to be spared.

Elrond narrowed his eyes.

“Why did you not just leave me there?” Adar asked, “Surely that would have constituted sparing me.”

“That is what Gil-galad said,” Elrond replied, “But I convinced him otherwise.” He paused briefly, then added, “Out of duty to Galadriel.”

“I see,” said Adar, contemplating. “If he despises me so, why did he personally retrieve me from the meadow I was left in?”

“You are ever so talkative, Adar,” Elrond commented.

Something about the way the elf had said his name made Adar catch his breath. Perhaps he was just embarrassed to have asked so many questions. Annoying as he was, Elrond did seem strangely effective at loosening his tongue.

“Fine,” sighed Adar, “Where are my possessions? I mean to depart as soon as possible.”

Elrond raised his eyebrows. “Oh, you are not going anywhere,” he replied, “You are our prisoner. I assumed that was apparent.”

 

______________

 

Fucking elves. Adar stared daggers at the canopy of his tent. His mind's eye overlaid the forest green canvas with Elrond’s smug face. At least when he had taken prisoners, he had made it abundantly clear that they were, in fact, prisoners. He did not think he could spend one more day around these stuck-up elves, with their flowing robes and their shiny curls. Furthermore, he had important matters to attend to. Sauron had taken his children. The thought of them in bondage was too much to bear. Adar got to his feet and began pacing the tent. His strength had returned after eating and being forced to rest all afternoon. He thought perhaps his annoyance with Elrond had also energised him.

 

The sun was setting now. He hoped that soon the guard posted at the entrance to his tent would change shift. It would be easier to sneak out of the camp in the dark. He did not have his armour and he had lost his sword to Sauron, but he decided that he did not need them. Though, without its gauntlet, his left hand was very painful and weak. But he had gotten himself out of far worse situations. The speed of his pacing increased. It was maddening to be penned in like this. Suddenly, he began to feel woozy and had to lie back down on his cot. He closed his eyes to still the spinning.

 

The next thing he knew it was dark. He must have fallen into a dreamless sleep. Adar trained his ears on his surroundings. He could hear the subtle movements of his guard as they shifted in their armour. With a sigh he sat up.

“I must make water,” he called out.

The entrance to the tent was opened and an elven woman appeared.

“Come with me,” she ordered, “Keep in front.”

Adar obliged her and began to walk toward the nearby treeline. He made sure to limp, to give the impression that he was still weak. Once they were obscured from the rest of the camp he suddenly turned and swept her legs out from beneath her. She let out a cry but he was already sprinting. It felt good to run, the crisp night air invigorated him and his aching leg muscles always appreciated being stretched out like this. Adar dodged between trees and jumped over fallen branches before a wave of dizziness overcame him. He lost his footing and became entangled in the impractical gown they had put him in. He thudded to the ground and once again lost consciousness.

 

Adar awoke in someone’s arms. He did not think he had ever been carried like this before. It was rather soothing. A voice disturbed his respite.

“Are you awake?” the voice asked.

Adar’s eyelashes fluttered open and through the gloom he made out Arondir, the elf who had once been his prisoner.

“I could have sworn I killed you,” he muttered.

“Evidently not,” Arondir replied.

The handsome elf looked angry, Adar supposed he could not blame him.

“I can walk,” he insisted.

“No, you cannot,” Arondir replied.

Adar attempted to wriggle his way free of the elf’s arms. In response, he simply dropped him onto the ground. Adar let out a grunt of pain.

“Fine,” said Arondir, “We are at your tent.” He then stormed off.

Adar’s guard stood over him.

“You are lucky Arondir was out scouting,” she said, “I had planned on leaving you out there. With any luck, the wolves would have got you. Now, back in your tent.”

Adar scrambled to his feet and did his best to remain dignified as he entered, trying not to think about his muddy gown or the twigs in his hair.

Notes:

Thank you for reading! This is my first time posting on here, and I'm new to writing fanfic so I'd love to know what you think. I'm getting to grips with ao3 so if you have any suggestions for tags or notes please let me know. I've got 4 more chapters that are almost ready to publish and many more in the works.

Chapter 2: Berries and Wine

Summary:

Elrond helps Adar get ready to meet with Galadriel. Adar and Galadriel have a special moment of friendship. Adar and Elrond have another picnic.

Please note that in this story Adar never put on Nenya. I didn't like how the show portrayed it, so I changed it for my fic.

Special thanks to cloudbower for beta-reading.

Content notes: awkward boners, blood, wine, food

Chapter playlist:
Björk - Jóga
Massive Attack -Teardrop
IAMX - This Will Make You Love Again

Adar and Elrond lay out on a blanket in the shade of an oak tree. He was feeding the elf plump red berries. Adar went to lick their sticky juice from his fingers, but Elrond caught his hand and instead pulled them into his mouth. The elf’s eyes smouldered as he slowly worked Adar’s fingers in and out, lapping at them with his tongue. His breaths became heavy as he watched Elrond’s lips, thinking of all the other ways they could pleasure him. The elf began to let out small moans as more and more thick red liquid ran down his chin. The colour deepened until black blood was spewing from his throat. Adar pulled his hand away in shock.

“No,” he cried out, “Elrond!”

“Adar,” Elrond shouted.

 

“Adar.”

Adar awoke in his tent. Elrond was there. He looked awkward. Adar tried to figure out why. Surely he could not know what he had been dreaming of? He flushed at the thought of it.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” Adar asked, hoping to smooth over his embarrassment.

Elrond coughed, “You may want to cover yourself.”

He looked down and was horrified to discover his dream had left him hard. This damned gown left little to the imagination. Frantically, he pulled the covers over himself and sat up.

“You are filthy,” Elrond commented.

Adar snarled in response.

“No, no. Calm down,” said Elrond smirking, “You seem to have gotten yourself muddy,” he let out a chuckle, “I heard about your escape attempt. Here, I brought you a change of clothes.” He held out a pair of dark brown breeches and a matching tunic. “I thought you might prefer these.”

Adar grabbed the clothing with a curt, “Thank you.”

“I am to escort you to Lady Galadriel,” Elrond continued, “She has awoken and requested your presence.”

“That is glad news indeed,” he meant it. She was his best chance at dispatching Sauron once and for all. Also, during her time as his captive, he had grown sympathetic towards her and seemingly, she towards him. “I just need to change,” he said.

“Yes, well hurry along,” Elrond replied but made no sign that he might give him some privacy.

Fine, he thought and pulled the gown over his head. He noticed Elrond staring. The tips of the elf’s ears had turned bright red. Let him look, he thought to himself grumpily. He had nothing to be insecure about.

Stepping into the breeches, Adar taunted, “Do I please you?”

Elrond threw him a stony glare, though the flush had spread to his cheeks, which detracted from the overall effect of it.

 

Once Adar had finished donning the clothing that Elrond provided, the elf insisted on removing the detritus from his hair.

“Galadriel has been through enough,” he had said, “would you have her look upon you in such a state?”

He grumbled but ultimately gave in. As Elrond began, a jolt of pain shot through his scalp. Reflexively, he hissed. He was not used to being touched, his body interpreted Elrond's fingers as a threat.

“In my day, Elves were deft with their fingers,” Adar chastised, batting the elf’s hands away.

“In your day, the world was lit by Illuin and Ormal,” Elrond jested.

Adar sucked his teeth, “I am not quite so old as that.”

“Will you let me continue?” Elrond asked, “I promise to be gentle,” he continued with an excessively polite expression.

“Fine,” Adar replied and Elrond resumed his task. The elf was much gentler this time.

“I am pleased to discover that you have refamiliarised yourself with the works of Rúmil,” said Adar.

In response, Elrond yanked his hair.

“Ouch!” Adar exclaimed. He then decided it was perhaps better to keep his mouth shut. It ended up being rather relaxing once he got used to the sensations. When the twigs and leaves had been extracted, Elrond pulled a comb from a pocket in his robe. Adar let him tease the tangles from his hair as little sparks and shivers darted down his neck and spine. He felt so at ease that his head lolled to rest on Elrond's shoulder. Adar let out a contented sigh and looked up to see a small smile on the elf’s lips. It occurred to him that this was the most intimate he had been with an elf since his corruption. The thought saddened him. He sat up abruptly and disarmed the comb from Elrond.

“Surely that is enough,” he said brusquely.

Elrond assessed him, “I suppose it will have to do.”

Adar let out an indignant huff, handed Elrond the comb and stood up. “Well,” he said, “We should not keep Lady Galadriel waiting.”

 

__________

 

Galadriel was laying out on a bedroll that had been placed beside a waterfall in a glade filled with wildflowers. As they approached, Adar watched the water wind its way down the craggy rock face. The sight of it made him smile, he was feeling much better today and it was pleasant here. Gil-galad was sitting next to Galadriel. The two of them were singing a song in Quenya about hope in spite of immense grief. It pulled at something deep inside of Adar.

“Beautiful,” he breathed.

“It is,” replied Elrond.

Hearing their arrival, the King stood up and the song ceased. Adar was sad to have interrupted.

“It would appear my herald and our failed escapee have arrived,” the King noted.

“High King, Lady Galadriel” Elrond addressed each of them with a tilt of his head.

Adar copied. While he and the King were far from friends, he did respect him. His bearing was impressive, and as much as Adar itched to be away from this place, he had to admit that so far they treated him rather well, all things considered.

“I shall leave…” Gil-galad started.

“No,” Galadriel interrupted, “Stay, both of you. I want you to hear what I have to say,” she looked between the King and Elrond.

Gil-galad sighed, “So be it,” and sat back down.

Elrond simply nodded and settled beside him.

As Galadriel sat up, he noted that she was garbed in a white gown similar to the one that he had been put in. She looked pale and weak, but there was a resolve in her eyes that had not been there before. Previously she had had a wild and fiery look about her; this was more of a calm determination.

“Adar,” she called to him, holding out her hand.

Adar knelt down next to her and took her hand in his.

“I am glad to see you have recovered,” he said. Though he could see bandages at the neckline of her gown.

“And I you,” she replied, looking at him with grave sincerity.

Adar considered how strange it was that just one conversation could have changed so much between them. Before, he had not dared to hope, thinking himself and the elves irredeemable and irreconcilable. But in Galadriel, he thought he caught a glimpse of a better future. The two of them stared at each other, hand in hand, with tears welling in their eyes. He did not think anyone else in Middle Earth could understand him the way she could. It made the burden of hardships endured and the foul deeds done feel a little more bearable. He reached out to embrace her, and she welcomed him with open arms. With their heads leant on each other's shoulders and their bodies entwined, they both began to weep. Adar felt profoundly present in this moment, holding and being held by Galadriel. Beside them, Gil-galad resumed the song of grief and hope. Elrond joined in. Adar thought his voice was sweeter than the scent of Lissuin blooms.

 

He was not sure how long they stayed like that, but he estimated the King and his herald had sung at least ten verses. When the singing was done, Galadriel removed her arms from around him, took his head in her hands and kissed him on the forehead. He did the same to her.

“Annon achin, mellon nín,” he said in Sindarin, marking their new beginning.

“Mellon nín,” Galadriel confirmed with a warm smile.

Adar settled back onto the grass and threw a glance toward Elrond and Gil-galad. The King appeared stoic but Elrond’s eyes glistened. Adar caught the glint of a tear upon his cheek. It shone like a star in the night sky.

“Adar has suffered enough at our hands, and we have suffered enough at his,” Galadriel announced, “We must forget the past and look to the future.”

“Galadriel,” said the King sternly, “This Orc…”

“Uruk,” Galadriel interrupted.

Gil-galad tutted but continued, “This uruk,” he put unnecessary emphasis on the word, “Must be punished for his crimes.”

“I am willing to face the consequences of my actions,” Adar cut in, “After Sauron is dealt with. And I would see that you also take culpability for the atrocities inflicted by you and your people.”

The King’s expression soured, but Galadriel did not give him the opportunity to speak. Instead she addressed his herald: “Elrond, after Adar took Nenya from you, he resisted the urge to place it upon his finger,” she started, “Does that not show his strength of character, his strength of will?”

Elrond looked conflicted.

Galadriel continued, “His children brought me to him in a woodland glade. He had placed my ring and Morgoth’s crown atop an ancient standing stone. Rather than choose to wield either power, instead he knelt and prayed. I have come to believe that there is as much light in him as there is darkness in me, perhaps more.” She looked down at her bandaged chest with a troubled expression. “He spoke to me of peace, wishing for an end to the flames and the darkness. I believe him. I trust him.”

“You have been deceived by dark forces before, Galadriel, all too recently,” Elrond responded, brow furrowed.

“Look at me, Elrond,” she said calmly.

The two elves stared deep into each other’s eyes. The intensity of it made Adar shift uncomfortably.

“I am changed,” she said, “I can feel it. Can you see it?”

Elrond broke her gaze but his expression had softened.

“I now know with great certainty that we must look to the light,” Galadriel continued, “Wherever it may manifest,” she placed a hand on Adar’s chest.

Adar felt Elrond’s scrutiny upon him and looked back at the elf defiantly.

Gil-galad sighed, “I do not think this issue can be overcome so easily. I doubt the other elves will be so quick to forgive. But he will remain here nonetheless. As our prisoner, for now.”

Adar felt his anger returning to him. “You must let me leave,” he demanded, “Sauron will enslave my children, perhaps he already has.”

Gil-galad raised an eyebrow. Adar had forgotten that he had not spoken of this yet, grief unfurled in him once more.

“He turned them against me,” he said, looking at the ground, “They almost succeeded in killing me. If they had not presumed me dead, I would not have survived.”

Addressing the King, Galadriel said, “It is true.” She then turned her attention to Adar, “But you will not be able to free them alone. You must stay. Do not forfeit your life to that worm. He has taken enough from you already.”

She was right, he knew it, but he ached all the same.

 

__________

 

After their conversation with Galadriel, Elrond took Adar back to the oak tree they had supped beneath yesterday. Fresh food and a pitcher of wine had been laid out for them again. Elrond must have arranged for it to be here. Strange that he would wish for them to be secluded like this, but Adar assumed it was on account of everyone here wanting to spill his blood. They sat and ate in comfortable silence, mulling over all that had been discussed that morning. When Elrond reached for a handful of red berries, Adar swallowed, remembering his dream. He watched the elf’s fingers place the berries in his mouth one by one. Adar’s pulse quickened as he thought about what Elrond’s lips and fingers would feel like on his skin. He found himself wishing he could somehow become one of those berries. It would be a rather beautiful way to die.

“I suppose fruit does not grow in Mordor,” said Elrond.

Adar was startled from his daze.

“Is that why you look at me so? There are plenty of them. Here,” Elrond held the bowl towards him, “They are good.”

“N-no,” Adar stuttered, “Thank you.” He was not used to being this flustered.

Elrond shrugged his shoulders, “Suit yourself.”

“What will you do with me?” Adar asked, “I mean, what would the King have me do? I am unused to sitting around idly. I do not think it suits my disposition.”

“I am sure I can make use of you,” Elrond replied, “I intend to build a settlement here, a sanctuary. I shall need all the labourers I can get.”

Adar did not like the thought of being reduced to grunt work, “I am sure my talents would be more useful elsewhere. I am a seasoned warrior and a skilled tactician.”

“Do you wish for me to congratulate you on your decimation of Ost-in-Edhil?” Anger rose in Elrond’s voice, “You cannot even begin to comprehend the extent of the loss. The greatest works of the most skilled elven smiths and artisans, including those of Celebrimbor, up in flames. Gone forever.”

“Do not presume to know what I can and cannot comprehend,” Adar replied coldly. “I knew the cost,” his tone turned solemn, “I thought it would be worth it. I was wrong.”

Elrond looked surprised, which annoyed Adar somewhat but he supposed the elf was entitled to his anger.

“Perhaps it is only fitting that I have a hand in the construction of your sanctuary,” Adar conceded. It occurred to him that it might feel good to build something for a change. He had taken no joy in the destruction he had inflicted these past months.

“Then we are agreed,” said Elrond, before taking a deep swig of wine.

When he pulled the goblet away from his lips, a deep purple droplet snaked its way down his chin.

“Elrond,” said Adar.

The elf looked up at him and without thinking Adar got up on his knees, leaned forward and wiped away the wine with his thumb. He lingered there, cupping Elrond’s face in his hand, staring down into his glittering eyes. The elf shuddered. Adar quickly removed his hand and sat back down. Is he really so disgusted by me? He thought to himself, dejected.

“Sorry, you had wine...” Adar mumbled and trailed off.

“Oh,” Elrond breathed.

Absentmindedly, Adar licked the wine from his thumb. A pink tinge appeared at the tips of the elf’s ears. Realising what he had done, Adar awkwardly wiped his thumb on the blanket. An uneasy pause lingered between them.

Elrond suddenly stood up and addressed the air above Adar’s head, “I shall see you on the morrow. Make sure you are well rested.” He then marched away.

Adar huffed. Elves could be so particular about etiquette.

Notes:

"Annon achin, mellon nín" (I think/hope) means "Thank you, my friend"

Thank you for reading chapter 2! Let me know what you think :) I really enjoyed writing the scene beside the waterfall, something about Adar and Galadriel as close friends makes me all teary-eyed.

Chapter 3: The Scent of Hard Work

Summary:

Adar stinks. Elrond makes him wash. Sexual tension ensues.

Special thanks to cloudbower for beta-reading.

Content notes: open water swimming, nudity, throat grab.

Chapter playlist:
The Microphones - The Glow, Pt. 2
Molly Nilsson - Not Today Satan
Arctic Monkeys - I Wanna Be Yours

As the weeks passed, Adar’s stab wounds healed fully, and his strength returned to him. He spent what free time he was afforded with Galadriel. They talked extensively about Sauron and their experiences with him. At first, he had found it difficult to speak of the torment and abuse he had suffered at the hands of The Deceiver, but Galadriel had been patient with him. Once he began to open up, he found catharsis in sharing. Though, there were many things he still kept to himself, for he did not think he could say them aloud. It pained him to hear of the ways Sauron had wounded her, in both body and spirit, but he was glad to provide her an understanding ear. A strong bond had formed between them and he was grateful for it. He had not had a true friend since the First Age. She had even managed to convince Gil-galad to use him as a military advisor. The council meetings were deeply uncomfortable, the elves despised him, but Adar knew his value. After all, who better to predict Sauron’s strategies than his former Lieutenant? 

 

Occasionally the topic of his and Galadriel’s conversations turned to Elrond. Adar was curious about the nature of her relationship with the herald. The two of them seemed to bicker like siblings, yet the way they looked at each other had an intensity to it that he thought indicated something more. The kiss he had witnessed them share certainly suggested it, though his better judgement told him it had merely been a ruse. When she confirmed that their bond, while deep, was firmly platonic, Adar felt strangely relieved. 

 

Galadriel made a point to remind him that elven superstitions around monogamy were a relic of the previous Age. For a moment he worried that she had picked up on the feelings he was developing for Elrond, but he dismissed the notion when she immediately began to speak of Celeborn. It was clear that she still mourned her late husband. Adar shared with her that he believed grief never faded, merely dulled. She claimed that to be the reason she had no interest in taking another lover. But a week later, while they discussed their fears concerning the darkness they each harboured, Adar thought Galadriel’s reticence may be more complex than grief alone. That was something else the two of them shared. 

 

While his friendship with Galadriel had deepened, the attitudes of the other elves had not changed much. They were, at least, getting used to his presence, and most seemed too busy to pay him much mind. He did not often catch them glaring at him, with the exception of Arondir. A number of work teams, including Adar’s, had begun constructing the first buildings of a new settlement that Elrond named Imladris. And Gil-galad had called many meetings of his war council, of which Adar was now a member. It would take a long time to raise an army big enough to challenge Sauron, who had been reported to be travelling to Mordor with the uruks (Adar felt he no longer had the right to think of them as children). But preparations were underway. Crops were planted, missives were sent across Middle Earth, and once the first forge had been built, the manufacture of weapons began. Imladris was bustling and its inhabitants were beginning to appear more hopeful. Wounds had healed and, while it was plain that the elves still grieved, they had an air of determination about them.

 

Adar welcomed the distraction both tasks provided him. Each night he went to bed so exhausted that he had not had many dreams, though, he did often find himself lost in waking thoughts. He could not shake the memory of Elrond’s skin on his palm, or how he had been close enough to smell the wine on the elf’s breath. They had not spoken much during this time, only in meetings, or when Elrond instructed his work team. Adar had hoped that there would be more lunches together, but it seemed the elf was too busy, or perhaps he was disinterested. Adar found himself savouring what little interaction they did have, however. How Elrond’s hand had guided him as he cut stone or how their eyes had met in a crowd. Adar even relished their arguments at the council table. Guilt settled in him that his thoughts were occupied with this when he should have been worrying about the uruks. He truly did not deserve his name any longer. 

 

__________

 

On one warm afternoon, Adar was hauling slabs of stone up to the top of one of Imladris’ many waterfalls. Even with his weakened left wrist and stiff legs, he was much stronger than the elves. Adar was able to work faster and carry more than them. It was hard work that caused him a great deal of pain, but it kept him focused on the present. He was debating whether or not to remove his tunic. On the one hand, it was hot, on the other, he did not want to give the elves any more reason to stare at him, and he was sure his scarred torso would attract attention. Halfway up the steep slope, his vision began to swim, and his left wrist gave way with a jolt of agony. The slabs fell to the ground with heavy thuds, though luckily, they did not break. He fell to his knees and gently massaged his injured wrist. Once the pain had somewhat calmed, he flopped down onto the grass and lay on his back, panting. He was unused to the sun; its heat made his skin rub uncomfortably against his clothing. So be it, he sat up and removed his tunic. Beneath it, sweat ran down the peaks and troughs of his scars, like water down cragged rocks. 

 

He was wiping himself off with his tunic when a voice called out,

“Are you alright?” 

Adar turned and saw Elrond approaching. He was garbed in a turquoise robe that complimented his eyes.

“Yes,” Adar replied, “Just the heat.”

Elrond proffered a waterskin. Adar took it and drained the whole thing.

“Thank you,” he gasped. 

He noticed the elf was staring at his body. The scrutiny made him uncomfortable. 

“Elrond,” Adar said, holding out the empty waterskin. 

The elf winced and took it from him, then said, “Adar, we must speak.”

“First I would ask for my gauntlet to be returned to me,” he butted in, “It acts as a brace for my wrist. Without the support it provides, the joint is weak and the muscles spasm.”

Elrond reached for his wrist, but Adar pulled it away protectively.

“Why did you not say something sooner?” asked the elf.

“I thought it best to keep my infirmities to myself, on account of my being a prisoner,” he responded, “But it is interfering with my work, so it is in your interest to have it returned to me.” 

Elrond nodded. Adar noticed that he looked concerned, probably about disruption to his construction schedule. 

“What did you wish to speak of?” Adar asked, getting to his feet.

“When did you last bathe?” the elf asked with a blank expression. 

Adar furrowed his brow, “I do not know. Uruks do not bathe often.”

“Hmm,” Elrond sounded displeased. “Follow me,” he commanded.

The sheer audacity Adar thought. “Why?” he barked.

The elf leaned in, placing a hand on his shoulder, “Some of the workers have started to complain,” he muttered, “About the smell.”

Adar was aghast. “This is the scent of hard work,” he hissed back. 

Elrond moved away, wiped his hand on his robes and turned. “Leave the slabs,” he said over his shoulder. 

Adar seethed as he stormed after the insufferable elf. 

 

Elrond led him to the glade beside the Bruinen where they had spoken with Galadriel. Birds sang sweetly and wildflowers still bloomed. The serenity of it vexed him. To Adar, it felt like a threat. He did not wish to be calmed. Once they reached the waterfall Elrond stopped.

“Go ahead,” he said, gesturing to the plunge pool.

“I am not going to wash while you watch over me like a concerned mother,” Adar bit back. 

“Unlike you, I washed only yesterday,” Elrond replied.

Adar stared him down, not moving a muscle.

“Fine,” the elf conceded and began removing his robes. 

As Adar undid the drawstrings of his breeches, he realised he had left his tunic back with the slabs. 

“Fuck,” he muttered.

“What?” said Elrond.

“Nothing,” Adar replied, stepping out of his breeches and striding towards the riverbank. When he reached the edge he saw his reflection in the clear water. Abruptly, he dove in, shattering the image. 

 

The water held his weight and cooled the heat from his skin. It had been an Age since he had last been submerged like this. Pain began to dissipate from his aching muscles and he immediately felt more relaxed. The sound of the waterfall soothed him further. He turned to see Elrond approaching the pool. Just because he was furious with the elf did not mean he could not appreciate his physique. Elrond’s body was muscular, it gave him a hardness, accentuated by his sharp bone structure. But the glow that radiated from his flawless skin softened his edges. He was beautiful, everything about him was perfectly balanced. On the outside at least. Adar felt saliva flood his mouth as his eyes fell upon what hung between Elrond’s legs. Interesting he thought, he had not imagined it to be so large. 

“Enjoying the view?” Elrond called from the bank. 

Adar splashed in the elf’s direction and dove below the surface. 

 

Beneath the water, all sounds were muffled by the roaring of the waterfall. Schools of pink and orange fish darted about and down below lay a bed of rich green plant life. It pained him to look upon bright things, he had spent so long in places devoid of colour. Yet behind the sting, he found a longing. While parts of him had never stopped reaching toward the beauty of this world, he was afraid of what might happen should he touch it. But in this moment he threw caution to the wind and let himself enjoy the vibrancy before him. Adar surfaced behind the waterfall and discovered a tucked-away cove. There was a rocky outcrop that appeared to lead to a small cave. It was shallow enough to stand, but he chose to sprawl out on his back and float instead. With his eyes closed, held up by the water, he began to feel at peace. Anger leached away from him and his thoughts slowed. 

 

His calm was interrupted as he was plunged beneath the surface. He panicked and instinct kicked in. Adar estimated where his assailant's throat would be and hurled them up against the rocky ledge. He emerged from the water to discover Elrond’s surprised face looking back at him. Adar loosened his grip slightly and pressed himself up against the elf.

“What do you think you are doing?” he snarled.

“It was merely a jest,” Elrond replied. 

Adar noted that the elf did not look afraid.

“You forget yourself,” Adar scolded, “We have been here before.” 

“Yes, everyone knows how big and strong you are,” he teased.

“You cannot best me,” said Adar.

“That was not my intent,” Elrond sounded more sincere. Perhaps he sensed Adar’s genuine distress. More likely, he just wanted him to remove his hand from his throat. 

Adar released the elf’s neck and massaged his wrist, which was painful again. Once the spasming had abated he pulled himself up to sit on the ledge. 

Elrond placed a hand on Adar’s thigh and said, “I am sorry, truly.”

The touch sent a jolt through him and his cock twitched in response. Elrond looked up at him with a curious smile. He placed his other hand on Adar’s thigh, positioning himself between his legs.

“Do you forgive me?” Elrond asked in a low voice. 

Adar shivered. The elf’s skin was glistening and wet curls clung to his face. Adar watched a droplet run down his neck and settle in the crevice above his collarbone. He wanted to lap it up with his tongue.

“Adar,” the elf purred as he ran his hands further up Adar’s legs.

He could feel his pulse heighten as he grew hard. 

Elrond’s face dipped down between his thighs. Adar could not believe it, this must be a dream. Or a trick. 

He pushed the elf away from him and snapped, “Why must you torment me so?” 

 

Adar swam back to the shore and marched to where he had left his breeches. As he was putting them back on, Elrond came running up to him. 

“Wait,” he called out.

Adar hurried his pace, fumbling with the sodden strings of his breeches.

“Stop, Adar,” Elrond insisted. 

He ignored him. 

The elf grabbed his wrists. Adar flinched in pain but Elrond did not let go.

“Adar, you are soaked,” Elrond pointed out, “And I have an oil with me. It has healing properties. It might soothe your pain.”

“I have endured my agonies for centuries,” Adar replied coldly. “I have no need for your Elven medicines. Unhand me.”

Elrond dropped his hands and Adar prowled back to his tent. 

The sun was setting now. The temperature dropped. Adar lay in his cot, shivering and damp. 

 

__________

Adar was sprinting through frigid darkness. The edges of his body slipped away into the black. All he felt was fear and the cold. It was unclear what he ran from, but he knew he was in danger. A voice whispered from all around him. 

“You cannot escape me, Adar” it was Mairon’s voice, “Our bond extends beyond Age and place. Cities may be built and nations may fall, but we are eternal.” 

He increased his pace, but he could not feel his legs and it was so dark. He could not tell if he was moving. Then, burning red claws ripped apart his formless body. He viciously tried to free himself as fire coursed through him. 

“No,” he screamed, “You shall not have me again. I am free.” 

Suddenly a brilliant white light exploded through the void and from it, Galadriel’s voice boomed,

“I banish you, Sauron,” she spoke, “You hold no power over Adar any longer. He is under my protection. The door remains, and ever shall be, locked and barred.”

 

And then Adar was floating in the Bruinen. All was calm and beautiful. It was night, but the moon cast silver light over the wooded riverbanks. He let himself be carried by the current and watched the stars shimmer above him. By the time the water laid him beside a riverbank, a feeling of peace and safety had settled over him. He stood up to discover Elrond walking towards him, his nakedness radiant in the moonlight. Adar watched him wordlessly, not wanting to disturb the tranquillity of this night. The elf reached out to gently caress Adar’s cheek. The soft touches did not sting or ache. 

 

Then Elrond’s hands were tangled in his hair and he was being pulled into him. The kiss tasted like fresh water and starlight. Heat rose in his body and he threw his arms around the elf’s bare shoulders, pulling him closer still. Adar felt Elrond’s ragged breaths against his lips, the rich smell of red wine filled his nostrils. Adar gently teased Elrond’s lips open until his tongue could slip inside the other’s mouth. He lifted the elf in his arms and in response found Elrond’s legs wrapped around him. Their lips did not break as he carried the elf to a nearby tree. When Elrond’s back was up against the bark, Adar leaned his full weight into him. He wanted to press himself all the way into the elf, to sink beneath his skin. His lips moved to kiss down Elrond’s neck and across his chest. He urged each touch of his lips to convey a line of poetry. To capture something of ineffability, of beauty that eclipses pain, of flickering candlelight and shadows that dance. 

 

He awoke with a start. Someone was in his tent. Adar searched thoroughly, it did not take long. No one was there, though he smelt the warmth of rosemary and the richness of petrichor. He turned to find his tunic, clean and dry, folded at the foot of his cot. Atop it lay his gauntlet which appeared to have been oiled and polished. 

Notes:

Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed it. Comments are always appreciated <3

Some lore/canon has been deliberately changed or interpreted in ways that fit the story I want to tell. Some stuff I simply don't know about, or I've forgotten. I'm just having fun in my little world.

Chapter 4: An Unlikely Alliance

Summary:

The High King and Adar put pleasure before duty. Elrond has a cameo.

Thank you so much to cloudbower for beta-reading. I wasn't happy with this chapter before, but your generous and thoughtful comments helped me a lot and now I am pleased with it.

content notes: smut, blow-job, anal sex, the sex is consensual, but there is an element of dub-con voyeurism (I will put expand on this in the end notes so you can make an informed decision about whether or not to read).

Chapter playlist:
Years & Years - King
Sade - Smooth Operator
Paramore - Emergency

Over the next few months, his days were mostly filled with hard labour, which was easier since his gauntlet was returned to him, and war council meetings. There were a few notable differences, however. Firstly, he and Galadriel had started training together. She was a formidable sparring partner and they had taught one another some new techniques. Between bouts he had thanked her for her protection, but she seemed unsure of the efficacy of her warding. Adar chose to believe she had been successful because he had not since been plagued by wicked dreams (unless those that featured Elrond counted). Their conversations began to reach beyond Sauron. On occasion, they even shared laughter and gossiped about lighter matters. 

 

Secondly, the number of elves in Imladris was increasing each week. Communities were gradually arriving from across Middle Earth to bolster their army. Adar was slightly more comfortable around the new arrivals. He had not witnessed these unfamiliar faces slaughter uruks. Also, he did not have quite the same level of notoriety among them, spare for those who had lost loved ones in Eregion. 

Thirdly, he had only caught glimpses of Elrond from afar. The Lord of Imladris, as he was newly titled, had delegated leadership of Adar’s work team to another and had been notably absent from meetings Adar attended. There was a simple explanation for this, Elrond was busy with his duties, but Adar felt that the elf was avoiding him. He still bristled at the memory of their encounter behind the waterfall. Adar near-compulsively dissected each shift in body language and word exchanged. At the time, it had truly seemed like a ruse to wound his spirit, but he could not shake the feeling that he had missed an opportunity. Either way, Adar was certain Elrond no longer wanted anything to do with him. His fists clenched each time he thought of it, though, whether his anger was directed at himself, or Elrond, depended entirely on his mood. There was also an uncomfortable gnawing in his stomach. It was embarrassment, but Adar was too unused to the emotion to acknowledge it as such. Luckily, another elf provided him a welcome distraction from his anguish.

 

Gil-galad regularly sent for Adar on evenings when they were both not otherwise occupied. The King had told him that, despite the ocean of blood between them, he wished to spend time in the company of someone who was not his subject. They both knew what it meant to be a leader, the responsibility it required, and the loneliness that resulted. He found that the King was strangely relaxed when it was just the two of them. At first, it had annoyed him that the King did not view him as a threat. But quickly Adar realised that he had nothing to gain from regicide, it seemed the King had come to the same conclusion. His only goals were to defeat Sauron and free the uruks. And to do that, he would need the help of the elves. 

 

In Adar’s presence, Gil-galad would remove his jewellery, with the exception of Vilya, and his outer robe. They would sit beside the fire in the newly built council chamber. They drank wine and regaled each other with epic songs and poems. At first, this led to frequent arguments. However, the King seemed quite comfortable to sit in tension. His tone remained calm and Adar could not seem to move him to anger. So, he gave up trying to. Once he did, he found himself enjoying the High King’s company. 

 

__________

 

On one such evening, they had just finished an enthusiastic rendition of a Sindarin drinking song, when the King turned to him and said,

“You are no longer my prisoner.”

A pit formed in Adar’s stomach, this must be a tactical move. In the past, Adar had freed prisoners to deliver messages to his enemies.

“You would have me go to Sauron, to deliver a message to him,” he said through gritted teeth.

“The King frowned, “Why would I do that? Sauron clearly wishes you ill, I do not think that would be an effective scheme.” 

Adar unclenched his jaw, relieved. “I am free to leave?” he asked.

“Do you wish to?” the King replied.

Adar considered for a moment. He had no means with which to emancipate the uruks, but the elves were amassing an army to challenge Sauron. If he could guide them carefully, perhaps uruk casualties could be minimised. Also, Galadriel had succeeded in protecting him from Sauron’s influence. He would be no use to anyone dead or under The Deciever’s thumb. That would surely be the way of things if he chose to simply stroll into Mordor. His only options were to abandon the uruks entirely and disappear into the wilderness, or stay here and prepare to fight for them. 

“No,” Adar sighed.

“I thought not,” said the King. “Though, I do not intend to officially proclaim you freed, not yet at least,” he added.

“Why?” Adar asked. Pretending to be a prisoner would be much the same as actually being one, he sensed there was something the King was keeping from him. 

“I fear it will sow division amongst my people,” Gil-galad replied, “I already have a difficult enough time handling them. I do not wish to give them anything else to complain about.” 

Adar watched the flames dance in the fireplace. His gut told him there was more to it than that. He thought if he waited long enough the King would fold. 

 

Quiet contemplation lingered between the two. Eventually, the King broke it,

“I must confess something,” 

“Yes, High King?” Adar responded. The corner of his lip curled, he had been right. 

“I wish you would not call me that,” Gil-galad replied.  

“But High King, you have no power to order me not to,” Adar smirked.

Gil-galad appeared deeply unimpressed. 

Adar sighed, “Yes Gil-galad, what is this deep and dark secret you yearn to confess?” 

“I misjudged you,” he replied, “Galadriel has told me of your past strife. I have grown sympathetic towards you. While I still condemn many of your actions, I admire your dedication to your kin, even after they turned on you. And, I feel I should thank you for the years of peace you bestowed us by slaying Sauron.”

“I assure you, the pleasure was all mine,” Adar said. Though, having the deed acknowledged by Gil-galad did stroke his ego somewhat. 

“I believe you to be truly repentant for the destruction of Ost-in-Edhil. I have seen how hard you have toiled since you arrived here,” Gil-galad continued.

Adar watched a pink tinge appear at the tips of the elf’s ears. Have you now? Adar thought of warm days he had spent hauling stone, shirtless. He arched an eyebrow, suspecting where this was going. 

“I have found myself drawn to you,” Gil-galad’s voice dropped to a hoarse whisper. 

“So that is why you would release me from my imprisonment,” Adar chided, “For your own conscience.” 

Gil-galad looked away and Adar saw the muscles of his jaw tense. “I did not wish to force myself upon you. I do not want you to feel obligated.”

Adar considered. This proposition was interesting. The elf was very handsome and had an impressive bearing. The way he had wielded Aeglos on the battlefield had been admirable too. 

“Declare me freed and I will give you my answer,” Adar said. 

Gil-galad sighed, “I cannot.”

Adar shrugged and leaned back in his chair. He schooled himself to appear nonchalant but he was already imagining what it would feel like to run his hands over Gil-galad’s muscular shoulders. 

Gil-galad looked at him for a long moment. Adar watched him bite the inside of his lip.

 

The King abruptly moved to the table and began scribbling on a piece of parchment. Adar got up to see what he had written. It was a simple declaration, with hardly any of the flowery language elves were notorious for. 

“Elrond!” Gil-galad called out.

Fuck , Adar thought to himself. Of course this would require his herald. The hour was growing late, hopefully, Elrond would not be here. 

Moments later Elrond came striding into the council chamber. “High King,” he acknowledged. His eyes lingered on Adar before snapping back to Gil-galad. The herald was garbed in emerald green robes that exposed his collarbones. Adar swallowed.

“Ah, good, you are still here,” said Gil-galad. 

“I was going over building plans in my study,” Elrond replied, “The day seems to have slipped away from me. How can I assist you?”

“I have a declaration that needs to be written up and distributed posthaste. Do not forget to affix my seal,” the King was speaking a touch too quickly, betraying his fluster. 

Elrond eyed him with suspicion, “What is it?”

“I have decided to free Adar,” Gil-galad replied in a stern tone, “I am weary and do not wish to argue about it.” 

Elrond furrowed his brow and looked to Adar. “Where will you go?” he asked.

“I intend to remain here. That is, if you will have me, Lord Elrond ,” Adar replied, in a mockery of deference.

“Oh,” Elrond’s eyebrows raised slightly, “Yes, of course.” He paused and Adar noticed colour bloom in his cheeks. He continued, “You are a valuable member of your work team.” 

Adar smirked slightly. He was starting to suspect he was more popular than he had assumed. Elrond quickly looked away from him and went to retrieve the parchment from the King. 

“I shall do this immediately,” Elrond said, turning to leave. 

“Thank you, Elrond,” Gil-galad called after him. 

But the herald was already gone.

 

Adar and Gil-galad settled back into their chairs by the fire. They watched the flames in silence. Adar disappeared into a fantasy involving himself, the King, and his herald. He was sandwiched between the two of them. His cheek pressed against the King's chest as his herald kissed the back of his neck. He could feel Elrond's erection against his lower back.

“Well, are you going to make me wait until Elrond is finished?” asked Gil-galad. 

Adar blinked to dispel the vision.

He had intended to wait, to ensure he was not deceived. But he could already feel his cock straining against his breeches.

“What is the nature of your desire?” Adar asked.

“I have no patience for courtship or seduction. But, I have needs that are so rarely fulfilled. I sensed a possibility in you. That you might understand, being a leader yourself. Tell me Adar, when did you last put pleasure before duty?” Gil-galad asked.

Adar was pleasantly surprised. This was straightforward, no toying, no games.

“It has been too long,” Adar breathed. 

“Then perhaps you would like to fuck me?” Gil-galad asked in a deliciously matter-of-fact tone.

Adar’s breath caught in his throat. He found Gil-galad’s openness very attractive. 

He stood up. "No," he said, testing him. 

Gil-galad sighed. "That is a shame, but I understand," Gil-galad replied, "Goodnight, Adar. You will still be freed."

Adar smiled and held out a hand to the elf. Gil-galad took it with an expression of confusion.

"I wanted to ensure you would honour your word," Adar murmured. "Now that you have, fucking you is certainly something I can do,” Adar said with a wry smile. He reached up on his tip-toes and kissed Gil-galad. 

 

At first, the elf’s kisses felt as rigid as his posture but soon he softened and relaxed. Adar felt Gil-galad’s hands hungrily fumble their way down his sides and back as he laced his fingers behind the elf’s head to deepen their kiss. Adar wondered at how experienced Gil-galad was. He carried himself with the confidence of an expert, but there was a frantic edge to his desire. Though, as Adar felt heat build in his own belly, his hands became clumsy too. Perhaps it was merely that they had each denied themselves for too long. 

 

Adar struggled with the ties on Gil-galad’s underclothes. In his frustration, he ripped them from the fabric. Gil-galad gasped and bit Adar’s neck. The sharp sting of it was a pinpoint of pleasure. Adar pulled off the King’s remaining clothing with a wild tug and stepped back to undress himself. He took in the elf’s body as he did so. Gil-galad had the look of a marble statue. Everything about him was regal and impressive. Even his cock. Especially his cock. It was large and hard, like the rest of him. Adar found himself staring wide-eyed. 

“Well, come on then,” Gil-galad urged. 

“Have you any oil?” Adar asked.

The elf let out a sharp exhale, “I am not some amateur. It may have been some time, but I still keep vials over there.”

Adar followed his gaze to an ornate cabinet. “I shall fetch some,” he said.

“Not yet,” Gil-galad said, getting to his knees.

“But..” he started but slipped into a groan as the elf’s lips slid down his cock. 

 

It had been so long since anyone had pleasured him in this way. Even if there had been the time to indulge in pleasures of the flesh, there had not been anyone to enjoy them with. 

Adar focused on the sensation of Gil-galad’s tongue gliding up and down, deeper and faster. His hands gripped the back of the elf’s head, guiding him and setting the pace. Gil-galad’s skill was impressive. Despite a handful of splutters, he managed to take Adar’s entire length. Fire surged in his core and prickles of bliss scattered across his skin. Suddenly, an image of Elrond flashed into his mind, wet curls stuck to his face, looking up at Adar from between his thighs. He wondered if the herald could hear them from his study. No, he thought, banishing the vision from his mind. Adar pulled on Gil-galad’s hair, which the elf took as a cue to speed up.

“No,” Adar snarled, “Stop. I must have you now.”

Adar shuddered as Gil-galad disengaged. He looked down into the King’s brown eyes, so big and eager.

“Yes, Adar,” he said in a tone unbefitting of a King, “Where would you have me?”

Adar assessed the room and quickly made up his mind, “The table.”

 

He pulled the elf up and went to fetch a vial of oil from the cabinet. When Adar returned, Gil-galad had already positioned himself over the large stone meeting table. Adar ran his nails down the elf’s broad back, tracing the thick bands of muscles. He watched as goose pimples appeared in the wake of his fingers. Gil-galad shivered. Adar then uncorked the oil and doused his fingers. When he carefully inserted one finger, Gil-galad let out a deep sigh. It turned into raspy moans as Adar worked the finger back and forth. When he added another, Gil-galad began to quake. 

It was not long before the elf grunted, “I am ready.”

Adar removed his fingers and poured more oil into his hand to lubricate himself. He looked down at his glistening cock and hoped that it would be enough to not hurt Gil-galad. Carefully, he lined himself up and edged his way inside. 

Gil-galad tensed as Adar’s tip entered him. The sudden tightness made his cock grow harder still. All the parts of him that usually ached dully were suddenly alive with shimmering pleasure. It felt incredible, but he knew he would not last long if they continued in this way. Adar hunched forward to softly kiss Gil-galad’s back, and whispered, “Relax.” 

Adar felt the elf’s muscles unclench and slid in a little further. He ran a hand up and around Gil-galad’s thigh to take his cock in his hand. A deep moan came from the elf’s chest. Adar felt it reverberate through his body and pushed himself all the way inside. It was glorious. At first, he went slow, wanting to savour the sensations. Gil-galad continued to let out rumbling moans. Then the elf, who Adar supposed was overly used to being in command, began grinding himself against his cock, encouraging him to go faster. Adar obliged, grabbing Gil-galad by the haunches and increasing the tempo. Wave after wave of frenetic energy washed over him. Gil-galad’s moans crescendoed and his hips bucked wildly. He shuddered violently and near-screamed with pleasure as climax overcame him. The tight spasms of his muscles sent Adar plummeting over the edge of rapture. All the tension in his muscles dissolved as his seed showered the King’s insides.

The King, thought Adar, I just fucked the High King . He felt very smug indeed. 

 

Once they had wiped themselves and redressed, Adar leaned in to kiss Gil-galad goodbye, but the King held up a hand.

“I have no interest in romance,” he said. 

“Not even a parting kiss?” Adar replied.

Gil-galad shook his head mildly. “But that was adequate.”

Adar raised a brow. “I believe it exceeded adequacy. The whole of Imladris probably heard your cries of pleasure.” 

The King looked unfazed. “As I said, adequate. There is room for improvement.”

“Then we shall have to better ourselves,” said Adar, “The greatest steel is forged with diligent tempering.”

“Yes, quite,” Gil-galad said, his face returned to its usual stoicism. Though, Adar noted his posture was far less stiff than it had been. “Goodnight Adar,” and his voice was raspy from moaning.

“Goodnight,” Adar replied. He tucked a stray strand of hair behind the King’s ear and turned to leave.

 

On his way out, Adar felt relaxed and a couple of inches taller. He went to check in on Elrond’s progress. 

When he entered the study, Elrond quickly adjusted his robes and crossed one leg over the other. He was quivering and red in the face. 

“Good evening,” Adar addressed the herald with a smirk, “I had not pegged you for a voyeur.” 

“You hardly gave me a choice in the matter,” Elrond muttered. 

“What did you make of it?” Adar tilted his head slightly. 

Elrond looked away from him.

Adar glanced at Elrond’s desk and saw the finished declaration atop it. It was written in a flowing and elegant hand, though there were a few smudges and wobbles.

“You defiled the King,” Elrond breathed.

Adar’s gaze snapped back to the elf. He chuckled and cupped Elrond’s face in his palm. Then, in his most sultry tone, said, 

“Believe me Elrond, it was quite the opposite. I worshipped him.” 

Elrond shivered and moved his face in close enough that their noses were almost touching. His eyes darted down to Adar’s mouth as if waiting for something. Adar held the elf’s chin, and with his other hand, reached for a stick of wax and held it over a candle. He did not take his eyes off Elrond’s face as he did so.

“It is unusual for a herald to be at a loss for words,” he said, patting the elf’s cheek. 

Adar moved back and dripped hot wax onto the parchment, then picked up the King’s seal and pushed it into the wax. He could hear Elrond’s ragged breaths.

Adar walked away, unwilling to let these games ruin his good spirits. 

  

Notes:

dub-con voyeurism note: Elrond is working in a nearby room and can hear them having sex. He technically could just leave, but the King has given him a task, so it's a grey area.

 

Hope you enjoyed it! Your thoughts are always welcomed and appreciated <3

Chapter 5: New Leaves and Shattered Hearts

Summary:

Adar and Galadriel go to therapy. Arondir has a greenhouse. There's an impromptu dinner party at Elrond's house. No smut, lots of emotions.

Thank you so much to cloudbower for beta-reading.

content notes: animal blood, skinning a rabbit

Chapter playlist:
Bon Iver - Woods
Mort Garson - Plantasia
Crosby, Stills, Nash, and Young - Our House

The following afternoon, Adar sat next to the river with Galadriel after one of their sparring matches. She was eyeing him with a smirk.

“What is it?” he asked, brow furrowed.

“Oh, nothing,” she replied.

“Out with it,” he demanded.

She smirked, “I heard you gave the High King some much-needed respite last night.”

Adar shrugged, “Perhaps.”

“No, Adar,” she said, “I heard it. Both of you. It would seem your talents extend beyond combat and brooding.” 

Adar rolled his eyes, “ I was not loud. Gil-galad on the other hand...”

Galadriel just raised an eyebrow.

“I must say,” she continued, “This morning, Elrond seemed worked up into a lather.”

Adar grunted, “He accused me of defiling his King. He must truly think me abominable.” 

Galadriel chuckled, “No, I do not think that is it.”

“He vexes me,” Adar grumbled.

Galadriel just sighed.

“I'm glad you are no longer our prisoner,” she said as she got up to stand. 

Gil-galad had kept his word. Adar was free.

"As am I," he replied.

Galadriel held out a hand to him.

“Come,” she said, “There is something we must do.” 

 

Adar was not sure where Galadriel was leading him, but they were walking through a forest.

“Where are you taking me?” he asked.

“You will see,” she replied.

The levity of their previous conversation melted away as a grave expression settled upon Galadriel. They carried on in silence. Then, through the trees, he spotted a glinting light. When they emerged into the clearing, he discovered it was the early afternoon rays reflecting off of a dome made of glass. He had never seen anything like it before. It was beautifully constructed. The panes of glass had been cut into organic curving shapes. A skeleton of beautifully filigreed metalwork held the whole thing together. Arondir was inside the structure. He stood before a table covered with clay pots and seedlings. 

“Galadriel,” Adar said under his breath. He saw Arondir’s head pop up. Adar put his back to him. 

“I do not think he will want me here,” he whispered.

Galadriel huffed, “He is expecting us,” and continued toward the glass structure. 

Adar reluctantly followed.

 

“Mae govannen,” Galadriel called out to Arondir as he came to greet them. 

“Mae govannen,” Arondir replied.

“Len suilon,” said Adar.

Arondir merely gave a brusque nod in response. 

“Arondir has kindly offered to remind us how to nurture new life,” said Galadriel, “He thought it may be therapeutic, after inflicting so much death.” 

“Yes,” Arondir concurred, “And perhaps it will bring you a step toward clemency, tree killer.”

Adar winced at that. He had taken no joy in felling so many trees, their funeral dirge still rang in his ears. The weight of his ill deed felt heavy upon his shoulders.

Adar tried to thank Arondir but it came out as a grumble. 

 

They filled small clay pots with soil, then made trenches with their fingers and placed seeds inside. An uneasy quiet lingered over them, broken only by Arondir’s occasional remarks on Adar’s technique. Then, they repotted seedlings that had outgrown their vessels. 

Adar gently brushed his thumb against a tangle of white roots that he had uncovered. He considered Arondir’s connection to nature. A knot twisted in his stomach; the familiar pang of jealousy. Then, he remembered Magrot, who had died in his arms. He remembered uruks crushed beneath stone as the tower collapsed. Arondir had been responsible for all of their deaths. Adar’s head swum from an onslaught of conflicting emotions. His thumb slipped, dislodging a clump of soil from the roots. It fell to the ground and broke apart. 

“Be careful,” Arondir admonished.

Adar’s jaw tensed. 

“Perhaps we should move on to the saplings. They are hardier; less likely to be injured by your rough hands.” Arondir continued.

Adar opened his mouth to rebuke but Galadriel cut in,

“Arondir,” she warned.

The silvan elf quietly began removing the clay pots from the table and replacing them with saplings whose roots were cradled in hessian sacks.

Adar let Arondir get on with it, but his fists were clenched at his sides.

 

Adar stood beside Galadriel as they inspected the saplings’ leaves. Arondir instructed them to prune any that showed signs of disease or decay, though he had not trusted Adar with a knife. Between Adar’s fingers was a leaf whose underside was covered in snaking black veins. Wordlessly, he turned to Galadriel. She took one look at it and swiftly sliced it off at the stem. Adar caught the leaf in the palm of his gauntlet and ran a fingertip over the ridges of its sickness. He pitied it for being cut from its kin. His thoughts turned to the uruks again. For a moment he let himself think of them as his children. He wondered if they were back in Mordor yet. At least there, they would be safe from the sun. But did it matter where they were if Sauron had enslaved them? His only wish had been to uphold his responsibility to the uruks. To protect them. To give them peace. To give them a home. All the violence and destruction he had inflicted would have been worth it if he had succeeded. He had made peace with sacrificing his own spirit for their safety. But he had not succeeded. As the plethora of his failings piled atop him, tears began to roll down his cheeks. They fell to the soil around the sapling.

 

“Good,” Arondir said quietly. 

Adar looked up at him. The elf kept his eyes focused on the sapling he was tending to. 

“When Bronwyn died, I felt that I had lost everything,” Arondir continued, “It was as if I was a dried-out husk. Deadwood. But coming to this place, spending time in this forest, it made me realise, I had been letting my roots drink only blood. I thought that vengeance would heal my wounds, but trees need rain and light to grow new leaves. I hope you will learn from your tears.” 

Adar let out a shuddering breath as he continued to weep. As Galadriel wrapped her arms around him, he saw that she wept too. Salt stung Adar’s lips as he pressed a kiss to her cheek. He pulled her into his chest. Over her head, he saw that Arondir’s attention had returned to the plants but Adar could see how his eyes shimmered.

“Who was Bronwyn?” he asked. When he felt Galadriel tense up, a memory returned to him. A barn filled with dying Men. A terrified look in Arondir’s eyes. 

“She was a fierce and brave woman,” Arondir replied, “She was a talented healer and a good mother. I loved her,” his voice cracked, “She was slain by a foul uruk arrow.” 

Adar moved away from Galadriel and got to his knees before Arondir. With his face pressed into the elf’s thigh, he quivered with grief,

“I am sorry.” 

He knew his apology would not be enough. Nothing would ever be enough.

Arondir took a deep breath, then said, “Le gohenon.”

Adar looked up at him, awestruck. Despite the suffering he had inflicted upon him, Arondir would choose to forgive him. The elf held out a hand and helped Adar to his feet. 

“I am sorry for each of your children I have slain,” said Arondir, with sincerity. 

Adar opened his mouth to reply, he felt compelled to forgive him too, but the elf held up a hand.

“I may forgive you, but I hold no love for you. I do not wish to be friends,” Arondir’s face hardened. 

“I understand,” Adar replied, though he was frustrated that Arondir had not let him forgive him. It was a relief that the elf did not want to be friends. 

He felt Galadriel take his hand in hers. It warmed and moored him. 

“Adar, we should go,” she said softly. 

“Not yet,” Arondir cut in, “I have a song I would like to teach you.”

“Oh,” Galadriel sounded surprised, “Yes, of course.”

She gently squeezed Adar’s hand.

“I would be grateful to learn,” Adar added, calmed by Galadriel’s touch.

 

The song was from Beleriand. Adar recognised it but had only heard part of it before. Arondir explained that it helps seedlings take root in even the harshest of environs. The melody was beautiful. It made Adar think of sage blossoms and innocence. The words spoke of resilience and connection. Of hard rock and thick bark. Of supple stems and soft petals. And of how all beings within the forest breathe as one. 

After Arondir had sung it once, Adar and Galadriel joined in. Each time they sang the song, a different emotion passed through him. All the colours of grief, fear, shame, guilt and, eventually, hope, rippled over the three of them. Together they stood before the saplings and sang until the sun began to set. 

“We should return,” said Arondir.

With that, they walked back through the forest. Adar and Galadriel hand in hand, Arondir ahead of them. Rich golden light spilled between the trees, and Adar could swear he felt new shoots sprouting within his shattered heart. 

 

__________

That night, Adar dined with Galadriel. She had moved into Elrond’s newly built quarters. The rooms had not yet been decorated, save for soft furnishings in shades of blue and green. Galadriel’s room was sparse. It contained only her armour, sword, a bedroll, and a dead rabbit hanging on a rack. It was a sorrowful room. It reminded Adar of his tent. 

Galadriel took a paring knife from her belt and set to work skinning the rabbit. Adar joined her on the floor. 

“We shall have to borrow Elrond’s cookpot,” she said.

Adar acknowledged with a “Hmm.”

“How do you feel?” she asked.

“Stange,” he replied, “It is as if I hold hope in the palm of my hand,” he held out his gauntlet, “And yet it is so fragile. I fear I may crush it,” he clenched his fist.

“I understand,” she said, as the rabbit’s blood dripped onto the stone floor, “But it is better to fight for hope than seek oblivion.” 

A quiet moment passed. Adar searched for courage within himself. He would need it if he was to continue on his current path. 

“I have a deep respect for Arondir,” Galadriel broke the silence. 

“As do I,” Adar agreed. He genuinely meant it, which was somewhat surprising. 

“It was brave of him to reconcile his hatred and forgive you,” she said. 

“It was,” he replied, “I am uncertain I deserved it.”

Galadriel tutted softly, “That is not for you to decide.” 

With one last slip of her knife, the rabbit’s skin separated from its body. Adar winced.

 

“Galadriel!” Elrond’s voice came from the entrance, “I would prefer you skin animals outside . The floor is covered in blood!”

“I was planning on cleaning it up,” she snapped back at him.

Elrond huffed and then looked to Adar.

“Hello,” he said, eyes not quite meeting Adar’s, “You have not been here before.”

“No, I have not,” Adar replied. He thought about their strange interaction last night. Perhaps he should not have been quite so smug about bedding Gil-galad.

“Welcome,” said Elrond, still not meeting his gaze. 

Adar noticed that the elf looked like he had not slept. His eyes were puffy and his hair was dishevelled. Adar worried that it had been his behaviour that had deprived the elf of rest. He resolved to be kinder to Elrond. The fragile hope bestowed upon him by the forest yet lingered. 

“Come,” Elrond ordered, “Both of you.” 

The command stirred something in Adar. His pulse quickened. 

“I do not trust the two of you to cook something edible,” Elrond clarified.” Bring the rabbit,” 

 

Elrond led them to the kitchen. The ceiling was covered in hanging bundles of herbs. The aroma made Adar wrinkle his nose, it was potent. Along one wall was a stove with a cookpot. A fire burned beneath it. Elrond moved to a stone table that was laden with vegetables.

“Sit,” Elrond said, gesturing to cushions that had been scattered around a mat made from river reeds. 

Galadriel placed the bloody rabbit on the table next to Elrond. Then, she and Adar sat down on the cushions.

“How was your day?” Elrond asked as he began chopping onions.

“Interesting,” Galadriel replied. She looked at Adar, “Good. I think.” 

He nodded.

“I saw Arondir on my way home,” said Elrond, “He said the three of you had been tending new growth.”

Adar grunted his assent. 

“He also told me,” Elrond continued, “That he forgave you, Adar.”

“Yes,” he confirmed, unsure where this was going.

“Admirable,”  Elrond commented. 

“I know,” he said.

“We have spoken of you often,” said Elrond, “I am glad the two of you have made peace.”

Adar looked at Galadriel and pointedly furrowed his brow. 

She shrugged in response. 

“As am I,” Adar replied, “Though I doubt there will ever be friendship between us.”

“No, but forgiveness is enough,” said Elrond.

“More than enough,” Adar added, “More than I d…”

“Stop it, Adar,” Galadriel cut in. 

Adar sighed but stopped.

 

Elrond moved on to the carrots while Adar and Galadriel recited poetry from the First Age. Adar’s eyes often wandered to Elrond. He watched the muscles of his hand shift as he chopped. He admired the firelight dancing upon his jaw. He noted the way his adam’s apple shifted when he swallowed. Finally, Elrond began preparing the rabbit. Their conversation turned to history. 

When Galadriel mentioned Rúmil, Elrond’s knife clattered to the floor. 

Adar jumped up and darted towards him, concerned that he was hurt. He bent down to retrieve the knife. As he eyed Elrond for signs of injury, he flipped it in his palm. 

Suddenly, Elrond had him by the throat. Adar gasped but could not take in air. His eyes registered a flash of movement as Galadriel lept towards them. Adar looked at her, willing her not to interfere. She froze. Adar held out the knife to prove that he had proffered its handle to Elrond. Slowly, the elf closed his free hand over Adar’s and looked back up at him. Adar’s heart was racing, only partially from lack of air. 

“Sorry, I…” Elrond trailed off. He cast his eyes downwards and blinked heavily. 

Adar felt his neck be released and sucked in a wheezing breath. Elrond took the knife from his hand. 

“Are you hurt?” Adar asked, breathlessly.

“No,” Elrond replied, “The blood is the rabbit’s. Thank you.” He moved away to add the meat to the pot. 

Adar returned to the cushions. 

“I see Rúmil is still a sore subject,” Galadriel gently teased. 

Adar was baffled, how did she know about that ? Absent-mindedly, he stroked his neck. He could still feel where Elrond’s hand had been. Adar was impressed by the elf’s reflexes, it was unusual for him to be caught off-guard. 

“Worry not, Galadriel,” said Elrond, overly cheery, “One day, I shall have my revenge.” He gave Adar a sideways glance.

Adar huffed and Galadriel chuckled. 

Elrond picked off bits of the herbs that hung in bundles above him. Adar watched him reach up on his tip-toes as he made his selection. Elrond’s expression was one of grave deliberation. If Galadriel had not been there, Adar would have worried the elf was planning on poisoning him.

 

They tentatively resumed their conversation but avoided discussing the works of Rúmil. Adar was retelling the story of Sauron’s first demise when Elrond set down two steaming bowls of stew in front of them. He had not wanted to tell the tale, but Galadriel had convinced him to. She claimed Elrond would want to hear it, but he suspected she just liked hearing the bit where Adar described the sound of the spikes penetrating the Maia’s flesh. As Adar breathed in the rich scent of the stew, it banished all thoughts of Sauron. Elrond returned with his bowl and three spoons. They ate in silence. The stew was delicious, delicate yet complex. It was the best meal he had had in years. He quickly finished and looked to see if there was more.

“Help yourself,” Elrond replied, with a satisfied smile. 

 

By the time the elves had finished their portions, Adar had polished off seconds. And thirds. 

“You have a talent for cooking,” Adar complimented. 

“I’m glad you enjoyed it,” Elrond replied.

“It was certainly better than what we would have eaten if left to our own devices,” said Galadriel, smirking at Adar. 

“Yes,” Adar chuckled.  

“Right,” said Elrond, reclining on the pillows, “You two should clean up.” 

Adar and Galadriel got to work, scrubbing the pot and washing the bowls with a pail of river water. Adar felt Elrond’s eyes on him as he moved around the kitchen. He thought the elf was probably making sure he did not break anything, or pocket any knives. 

Once they were done, the hour was growing late.

“I must return to my tent,” Adar said.

“No!” Galadriel exclaimed, “Stay here, you can sleep in my room.” 

“No, I should go,” Adar’s protest was weak, he did not want to go back to his sad tent.

“Stay,” said Elrond.

“Fine,” Adar replied, “Thank you.”

 

Soon after, Galadriel and Adar said goodnight to Elrond. The two elves embraced and Galadriel thanked him for the stew. Adar waited for them to finish, then tried to slip around Elrond. But the elf surprised him for a second time that night. Adar let himself be pulled into the hug and wrapped his arms around Elrond’s waist. He tried to steer his thoughts away from his dreams. 

“I did not truly think you would stab me, you startled me is all,” Elrond murmured.

Adar quaked slightly at the sensation of the elf’s breath on his ear.

“I do not find you quite so insufferable as that,” Adar whispered. 

Elrond laughed softly and broke apart the hug. As he did so, he gave Adar a quick peck on the cheek. Adar felt his ears grow hot. 

“Goodnight, Elrond,” he said.

“Goodnight, Adar,” Elrond replied.

Adar’s pulse fluttered at the sound of his name on Elrond’s lips.

As Adar left the kitchen, Elrond called after him,

“Oh, and I must warn you, Galadriel tends to snore like a malcontented pig.”

“Shut up, Elrond!” came Galadriel’s voice from her room. 

Adar could not stifle his laugh. Elrond smiled at him. Adar's heart leapt at the sight of it. 

 

Galadriel had shut the door to her bedroom. Adar knocked.

“One moment,” Galadriel called.

Adar waited, and then the door was opened, revealing Galadriel in a long white nightgown. As he entered the room he wondered where he would sleep. Perhaps he could grab some cushions from the kitchen. He could sleep on the hard floor but he would prefer not to, the pain tomorrow morning would be a nuisance. 

“Come,” Galadriel said, stretching out on her bedroll. 

Adar hovered awkwardly.

Galadriel rolled her eyes, “Adar, I don’t bite.” 

Adar approached and sat down beside her. He did not have his sleeping garments with him, but he didn’t mind sleeping in the clothes he was wearing. 

“Would you mind removing your gauntlet? It’s terribly pointy. I’d rather not roll onto it in my sleep,” said Galadriel.

Adar usually slept with it on, in case of intruders. He supposed if they were attacked in their sleep, Galadriel could easily fend off their assailants while he put his gauntlet back on. Besides, it was probably better for his wrist to not sleep with it on. He unbuckled it and placed it beside the bedroll. 

 

Galadriel lay on her side, facing away from him. Adar lay on his back at first, but half of his was sliding off the bedroll. He rolled onto his side, facing Galadriel. She reached back and pulled his arms around her. He tensed, unsure if she was making an advance. 

“You think highly of yourself, mellon ,” she muttered, “I think bedding the High King may have overinflated your ego.”

“My tastes have ever been inclined toward the masculine,” he replied.

She snorted, “I am aware.”

“Oh,” he replied. He had not told her that.

“Have you never shared a bed with a friend?” she asked.

“Not since I was young,” he replied in a voice tinged with sorrow.

She squeezed his hand, “Well, you are now.” 

Adar relaxed. He thought of the years that had followed after awakening at Cuiviénen. Each night he had slept in someone’s arms, or with someone in his. They were all so innocent then. He had not realised how much he had yearned for this kind of intimacy.   

“Galadriel?” he asked.

“Hmm,” she replied.

“I wanted to forgive Arondir, but he would not let me,” he said.

Galadriel considered a moment. 

“I suppose, just as we cannot decide whether or not we deserve forgiveness, we cannot force it upon others. Let it be enough to know in your heart that you forgive him,” she said. 

She was right, of course. 

“Very wise,” he noted.

“Now, will you let me sleep?” she yawned.

“Yes,” he whispered.

When Galadriel began to snore, Adar’s thoughts turned to Elrond. His skin prickled at the memories of Elrond’s hand on his throat, and lips on his cheek. Adar rolled over to put his back to Galadriel. 

Eventually, he drifted off, thinking about how it would feel to sleep cradled in Elrond’s arms. He estimated it would be around fifty steps to Elrond’s bed. In his dream he took them.

Notes:

"Mae govannen" is an informal Sindarin greeting that means "well met".
"Len suilon" is a formal Sindarin greeting that means "I greet you".
"Le gohenon" means "Le gohenon" in Sindarin.

If Adar seems emotionally all over the place in this chapter, it's because he is.

You know those photos of depressing bachelor pads, with a tv on the floor and a bare mattress? That's the cursed vibe of both Galadriel and Adar's rooms.

I didn't say this explicitly in the chapter because Adar doesn't know, but Elrond's stew had magical bad-thought-banishing properties. Yes, this is propaganda for @ropmasterchef on Tumblr.

Hope you enjoyed this chapter! I adore writing about nature, so it was fun to write the tree-planting scene.

As always, I love to hear your thoughts <3

Chapter 6: Kind as Summer

Summary:

Strap in for some emotional hurt/comfort.

Special thanks to cloudbower for beta reading.

Content notes: Oral sex, light choking, PTSD flashback (content of flashback is not described in detail), bondage mentioned, torture mentioned, sexual abuse alluded to

Chapter playlist:
Madonna - Like a Prayer
Days Fade, Nights Grow - Amelioration
My Chemical Romance - The World Is Ugly

Adar awoke draped in golden silks. As he rolled onto his back, they slid across his naked body like cool water. 

“Good morning,” Gil-galad said, not looking up from the scroll he was reading. 

“A good morning indeed,” Adar yawned. 

He and Gil-galad had spent much time together over the past couple of months, but last night was the first time Adar had been invited to spend the night. Adar came to understand what Gil-galad had meant by “adequate”. 

They had gotten to know not only each other’s bodies, their proclivities and desires. The High King liked to be dominated. He was very good at communicating exactly what he wanted Adar to do to him. Adar was impressed by Gil-galad’s self–knowledge. Also, in this context, he found that he quite enjoyed being told what to do. It surprised him. During his long years as Lord Father, he had grown used to being in command. But was Gil-galad not similarly accustomed to leadership? Adar was starting to see the appeal of temporarily relinquishing control. But it was an intimidating prospect. Often, he would look at Gil-galad, tied to the bed, or face pressed into the floor, and yearn to switch places. Something about putting yourself in another’s power seemed freeing. But to Adar, it also screamed danger. He wished he trusted another enough to come fully undone in their presence. To let himself be vulnerable. To allow them to take care of him. But after Mairon, he did not think he would ever feel safe to do so again. Adar’s stomach lurched. He shook his head to dispel the thought. 

Overall, Adar supposed he was sexually satisfied. At least, more than he had been so far this Age. He enjoyed Gil-galad’s company, the elf was intelligent, witty, and utterly filthy, which Adar deemed to be a delightful combination. No love had blossomed between them, but that suited them both.

 

“Adar,” said Gil-galad, still looking at his scroll, “You do know you are free to pursue other lovers?”

Adar raised an eyebrow. He had not considered it. Well, not exactly. Elrond still haunted him but neither had addressed the awkwardness between them. The Lord of Imladris had resumed attendance at war council meetings. Adar had done his best not to look at him too often, lest he get distracted.

“Has someone caught your eye?” Adar asked.

“No,” Gil-galad said, “Last night you called out another’s name in your sleep.”

Adar flushed. He had been dreaming of Elrond again. The elf’s bare skin was bathed in moonlight. Adar kissed every inch of his body. 

“Whose name?” Adar asked, in a poor attempt at nonchalance.

Gil-galad gave him a sideways glance. 

Adar urged his face to remain neutral.

“Perhaps I dreamt of battle,” he replied.

Gil-galad snorted, “I have seen the way you look at him.”

Adar grimaced. He liked to think himself subtle.

“Do you find him pretty?” Gil-galad teased, “Do you dream of his bouncing curls?”

Adar sat up abruptly and turned his back to Gil-galad. 

“Come now, Adar,” Gil-galad cooed, “I think it sweet. The fearsome Lord Father, weak at the knees over an elven herald. It has the makings of a terribly romantic song.” 

“Do not mock me,” Adar warned. His face was growing hot.

“I do not,” Gil-galad said, “Well, perhaps a bit. I did not realise how serious it was.” 

“It isn’t serious,” Adar hissed. He got up and began collecting his clothing. 

“Adar, please,” Gil-galad soothed, “I am sorry. Come back to bed.” 

 

Everything in his body told him to storm out and never return, but instead, he closed his eyes and focused on taking three breaths. The first was ragged and shallow. The second, a little longer. The third, deep and smooth. His eyes opened to see Gil-galad patting the bed. Adar clenched his jaw. He did not sit down. Gil-galad stood up and came over to him. He cupped Adar’s cheek in his palm. The gentle touch made him bristle.

“I think you should tell Elrond of your desire,” Gil-galad spoke softly, “He has endured much. He could do with some distraction. Some joy.”

“And what if he does not feel the same?” Adar asked, immediately regretting the question.

“You speak as though you are some blushing youth,” Gil-galad scoffed.

Adar removed Gil-galad’s hand from his face and dressed himself. The now-familiar gnaw of embarrassment returned. 

Gil-galad sighed, “At least then you would know. Mystery only intensifies the agony of pining. Besides, I have seen how pink his ears turn when he catches you looking at him. I would wager he at least finds you intriguing.” 

“Perhaps you should pay more heed to your duties,” Adar growled, “And think less of idle gossip.”

“Adar,” Gil-galad sounded exasperated, “I am merely trying to help.”

“I did not ask for it,” Adar hissed, pulling on his boots.

“While I enjoy your coarseness betwixt the sheets, I will not tolerate being treated like this outside of them,” Gil-galad replied sternly. 

Adar huffed and glared at him. 

Gil-galad threw up his hands. “Fine,” he said firmly, “It seems your bullheadedness knows no bounds.”

Adar strode out of Gil-galad’s quarters. His belly squirmed with rage and shame. He knew his reaction was excessive. For centuries, he had been numb. It made it easy to remain cool and controlled. But since Sauron’s return, his emotions became unwieldy. Even more so since coming here. 

 

Later, a member of Adar’s work team commented that he had missed a button on his tunic. Adar glared at them and made no attempt to fix his error. At least, not until no one was looking. 

 

__________

 

The following morning Adar awoke just before dawn. Since his afternoon spent with Arondir and Galadriel, he had taken to walking the forest while most were still abed. It was peaceful to walk alone in the early morning quiet, and being amongst the trees soothed him. He had planted saplings in places where trees had died or been felled and collected herbs, which he brought back to hang and dry. The adornments made his tent a more pleasant place to reside. 

 

Last night, sleep had not come easily as he was confronted by the truth of Gil-galad’s words. He was infatuated with Elrond. There was no escaping it. He would have to take action, lest his pining rot to bitterness. Adar regretted the way he had behaved, Gil-galad did not deserve to be treated in such a callous manner. He thought a walk might be just the thing he needed to collect his thoughts.

 

As Adar tied his boots, his ears picked up the sound of soft footfalls. It was a suspicious hour to be sneaking around. Whoever it was, it sounded as if they were approaching his tent. Adar moved silently to stand beside the tent’s entrance. He forced his body to calm; the body at ease strikes with greater precision. The footsteps came closer and Adar watched as a dim shadow moved around the outside of his tent. 

 

Elrond’s face appeared from a gap in the tent flap, but he did not spot Adar, who was pressed back against the canvas. Adar managed to stop himself from lunging for the elf. Instead, he watched quietly as Elrond looked up at the herbs that hung from the canopy and grinned. Adar’s foot shifted involuntarily, thrown off-balance by Elrond’s smile. Elrond’s head snapped towards him,

“Good morning,” he said, in an overly chipper tone for the early hour. “What are you doing?” his eyes narrowed. 

Adar sniffed and stood up straight. 

“Good morning, Elrond,” he said, attempting to cover his blunder, “Why are you sneaking around my tent?”

“I thought I might accompany you on your stroll,” Elrond replied, “That is if you will have me. I brought parchment and ink. I thought I could begin documenting the local flora and fauna.” 

Adar furrowed his brow. It was suspicious that Elrond knew of his morning walks. But he thought of Gil-galad’s words about uncertainty exacerbating the agony of longing and willed his expression to soften. Besides, had he not been yearning to spend more time with Elrond? Was that not why he dreamt of him? Why his eyes searched for him in every crowd? 

“Very well,” Adar replied, “Though I have tasks to see to. I would ask that you do not disrupt them.” He winced slightly at his own words. It frustrated him that he could not simply express gratitude for the company.

“Of course,” Elrond replied, “I promise to not disturb you.” Then his head disappeared through the tent flap.

 

Adar stepped out of the tent. He saw that a leather satchel hung across Elrond’s shoulder. It was embossed with a design of interlocking bird’s wings. A roll of parchment poked out from its opening. The elf wore rich blue robes and a silver circlet upon his brow. His radiance cut through the morning gloom like a lantern in a storm. 

As he admired Elrond, Adar noticed that the elf was eyeing his shoulders. Adar felt around for whatever disturbance or debris attracted the elf’s gaze. There was none. The movement seemed to snap Elrond back to attention.

“Well, shall we?” Elrond said. 

Adar nodded and led the way to the forest. 

“Of late, we have not seen much of one another,” said Elrond, “I have missed that handsome face of yours.”

Adar could not help but interpret his words as a slight, but he held his tongue. 

 

Once they were in the forest, Adar made his way back to a clearing he had come across a fortnight back, where a fire must have broken out some months ago. The remains of charred trees jutted out from barren earth. Elrond settled himself on a boulder and took out his drawing supplies. Adar tended to the saplings he had planted. As he worked, he thought of what he might say to Elrond. A hard knot tightened in his stomach. While he had spent the night ruminating, he had not yet thought of the right words. For now, he tried to put it from his mind. 

Adar began to sing the song Arondir taught him. He had sung it each day since planting the saplings. It seemed to be working: many more lush green leaves had unfurled along their shoots. The sight of them brought a smile to his lips.

Once his song was done, morning had begun in earnest. The clearing was filled with bright light that cascaded down upon Elrond. It made his curls shine with a brilliance Adar imagined must be comparable to the light of Valinor. Elrond appeared to be deep in his work, scribbling away, but as soon as Adar took a step toward the boulder, the elf’s head popped up.

 

“Your voice is sweet as honey and rich as incense,” Elrond said, earnestly.

Adar flushed, remembering how beautiful the elf’s own singing had been. 

“May I see your drawing?” Adar asked.

“It is not yet finished,” Elrond replied, clutching the parchment to his chest. 

Adar moved toward the elf, quick as a flash, and snatched it away. He looked down and was surprised by what he saw. It was him, crouched amongst new growth, with sunshine upon his face, mouth open in song. Elrond had even added a garland of little flowers to his hair. Adar was speechless, it was so different from the way he viewed himself. There was no desolation here, no emptiness. While the elf had portrayed his hard features and shadows, it was all perfectly balanced with softness and light. 

“I told you it was not finished,” said Elrond, scrambling to his feet. 

Adar looked up at him and saw that his ears were red.

“Is this truly how you see me?” he asked.

“Yes, of course,” the elf replied, “Though I fear I may not have done you justice.”

He felt his jaw tense, sensing a trick. 

“You jest,” Adar snapped.

“Adar, stop it,” Elrond said, “I have had quite enough of your self-deprecation.” 

Something in the elf’s tone made him obey. He swallowed.

“Uruk or no, I find you utterly enchanting,” Elrond’s voice was somewhat shrill, “Yet, you act as though your features are akin to some slavering warg. You are so completely insufferable, and yet I find my thoughts utterly consumed by you. At first, my attraction to you vexed me. How could I desire one who has slain so many of my kind? But desire I did! And against my better judgment, I acted upon my urges, only for you to spurn me. When I spoke to Galadriel of it, she told me to wait, to observe you, to be gentle. So I did, I watched and I waited,” Elrond sighed and his voice lowered, “And then I started to see.”

Adar stared at him wide-eyed. He could not think of a single word to say.

“You are not who I thought you were,” Elrond said, “Even when we met at Ost-in-edhil, part of me sensed you were more. You are not a monster, though your actions have been monstrous. We have seen that you and your kin are thinking, feeling beings and not mindlessly evil. It reminded me that we elves are capable of as much monstrosity. I have loved elves who have done terrible deeds...”

“Elrond,” Adar managed to get out his name, but it was strained. 

Elrond held up a hand. “Galadriel grew so weary of my carrying on,” he continued, voice thin again, “She made me swear I would tell you of my feelings. I had planned to compose a poem, make a gift of my drawing. But your utter obstinance…”

Adar did not let him finish. 

 

As their lips collided, Adar’s world was enveloped by Elrond. Everything began and ended with the elf he had yearned for these past months. Elrond’s body briefly tensed in shock, but his lips softened and parted slightly as a gasp escaped from between them. Adar clasped his hands around the back of Elrond’s head and ran his fingers through his hair. His curls were even softer than Adar had imagined. He felt Elrond’s arms around his waist, pulling him in so their bodies pressed against each other. Adar’s head spun as tingles fizzled across his skin. His heart thumped fervently. As if trying to leap into Elrond’s ribcage. Their hands ran up and down each other's backs and sides, tenderly mapping out the boundaries of their bodies.

 

Adar was overwhelmed by the smell and taste of him. There was a hint of sage-blossom sweetness he had not noticed before. He kissed down Elrond’s cheek and jaw, then buried his face in his neck. Adar breathed him in, trying to fill himself with Elrond’s essence. 

“Adar,” Elrond breathed, head tilted up to the sky. 

Adar fumbled with the neckline of Elrond’s robes, pulling down one side to expose his collarbone. He ran his tongue along it and felt the elf shiver. This close to his chest, he could hear the ferocity with which Elrond’s heart pounded. Adar was desperate to be closer to him, to crawl inside his chest, to blur their edges into one another. He greedily began pulling at the ties that held together the elf’s clothing, but the knots were too intricate for his gauntleted hand. 

“Wait,” mumbled Elrond, gently pushing him away.

Just as Adar began to worry that he had made a mess of things, the elf got to work, slowly untying the knots himself. Adar watched with hungry eyes, taking in deep breaths of cool morning air. 

 

It felt like it took hours, but the anticipation was delicious. Elrond looked rather pleased with himself, and, for once, Adar thought he was entitled to it. Elrond had him wrapped around his finger, and Adar liked it. His desire to come undone in Elrond’s hands was so great that it eclipsed his fear. He lifted his chin, exposing his neck, testing out how it might feel to submit. It was good in an uneasy sort of way. He reminded himself that he was capable of overpowering Elrond if needed, but he hoped he would not have to. Elrond’s robes fluttered to the ground, revealing his body, which glowed softly in the morning light. Adar watched Elrond’s muscles shift beneath his skin as he approached. The curve of his strong thighs, the gentle ridges of his stomach. His eyes followed the elegant sweep of Elrond’s hip bones, down to his groin. 

Adar dropped to his knees.

“Please,” Adar muttered, blood pounding in his ears.

“What was that?” Elrond sounded surprised.

“Please,” Adar repeated, as though pleading with one of the Valar. 

Elrond seemed to catch on, he tilted his head and smirked. “I do not know what you ask of me, Adar,” he said in an overly innocent tone.

“I must taste you,” Adar breathed. 

“Oh? Must you?” Elrond replied.

Adar looked up at Elrond through heavy-lidded eyes.

Elrond slowly reached for his own cock and delicately wrapped his fingers around it. The way it twitched made Adar groan softly. Elrond gently grazed the tip across Adar’s parted lips. The salty taste of precum touched his tongue. Adar desperately wanted to take Elrond into his mouth, but the thought of relinquishing control was even more alluring. A specific desire surfaced in him and he did not want to squander the opportunity to explore it. He reached for Elrond’s hand and brought it to his own throat. The elf’s hand closed around Adar’s neck. His grip was tight enough to restrict his breathing slightly without causing him harm. Adar shuddered, this was exactly what he had been craving.

“Like this?” Elrond breathed.

Adar nodded, holding the elf’s gaze. 

Elrond once again traced the line of Adar’s lips. Being teased like this set Adar’s insides alight. He felt his cock swell. Suddenly, Elrond moved away from his mouth. Adar gasped. 

“Beg,” Elrond said in a low voice. 

Adar’s breath caught in his throat. “Please, Elrond,” he obeyed, with a rasp.

Elrond kept Adar held by the neck and began pleasuring himself with his other hand. Adar groaned and fought against him, though not too hard. He liked how it felt to let Elrond lightly choke him. This was the freedom he had envied in Gil-galad. Again, he reminded himself he could put a stop to this if necessary, but he did not wish to. He wanted to put his trust in Elrond. Besides, the torment was thoroughly enjoyable. Adar stuck out his tongue, reaching for the cock he was being denied. His own hand slipped below his waistband to find that he was already slick and sticky.

“No,” Elrond ordered.

Adar whimpered but removed his hand from his breeches. 

“Please…let me…” he said again, eyeing Elrond’s cock. 

Elrond relented and slid his tip between Adar’s lips. The relief was so great Adar thought he might orgasm right then and there, but he did his best to calm himself as the elf let him lick and suck at the head of his cock, one hand still at his throat. 

 

There was an incredible peace to this surrender. Adar had long sought such solace, but it had not felt safe to be anything other than completely in control since Mairon. Mairon.

Suddenly the hand at his throat was suffocating. Adar froze, his body braced against hands that had not touched his flesh in over a millennia. Elrond immediately stopped what he was doing and crouched beside him. But Adar was barely there. His mind was trapped in Angband. 

“Adar? Are you alright?” Elrond asked, puzzled. To Adar, the elf’s voice was muffled and distant.

Adar’s breaths were rapid and wheezing, struggling to get enough air. A hand touched his shoulder. He flinched. The hand withdrew. 

Adar could not see it but Elrond’s face was etched with concern. He realised what was happening to Adar. In his youth, he had often seen Maedhros in a similar state.

“Adar, look at me,” Elrond’s soft voice floated through the memory.

Adar forced himself to look at Elrond. Gradually, the elf’s face came into focus.

“Sorry,” Adar rasped. His voice sounded as though it had been severed from his body. He desperately tried to claw his way back.

“Can I touch you?” Elrond asked.

Adar shook his head. His skin felt as though it were being flayed. All his muscles were taught as rope bindings.

“Okay,” Elrond replied, softly, “That’s okay. I am here, Adar. You are safe. Breathe with me.”

His thoughts were a terrifying tangle, but he focused on Elrond and tried to match his breathing. It was difficult but it helped a little. 

“Hold me,” he whispered, wanting Elrond to fill his senses again.

Elrond gently pulled him into his arms.

“I’m sorry,” Elrond whispered, as he stroked Adar’s hair. “You are safe, Adar. You are safe,” Elrond soothed.

Slowly, the warmth of Elrond’s body, and the sound of his voice, brought Adar back to himself. Back to the clearing. Back to the present. He sucked in deep breaths of crisp forest air and wrapped his arms around Elrond’s shoulders. As the tightness in his muscles released, Adar began to sob. Centuries of fear and shame flowed out of him. 

Elrond held him as he wept. He hummed a soothing tune that Adar did not recognise. 

 

When Adar’s tears had dried, humiliation sunk its fangs into him once more. He brusquely untangled himself from Elrond and stood up. He had not removed his clothes, yet Adar felt more naked than Elrond was. He looked around the clearing, planning his escape.

“Adar,” Elrond moved into Adar’s line of sight, “Leave if you wish, but please know, you do not need to feel embarrassed.” 

“I do not,” Adar snapped. 

“Adar,” Elrond replied, in a soft voice, “Please.”

Adar took a deep breath and felt the ground beneath his feet. It frightened him, but he wanted to stay. He looked into Elrond’s face and saw that his expression was concerned but kind. Elrond approached him carefully. He slowly raised his hands to the sides of Adar’s face, then kissed his brow.

“I swear I have no desire to harm you, in body or spirit,” Elrond spoke softly.

Adar did not know what he had done to deserve such gentleness, such compassion. Thoughts like this usually filled him with shame and self-pity, but something about this felt different. He was filled with a desire to accept Elrond’s kindness, to make himself worthy of it. Adar pressed his forehead to Elrond’s and whispered,

“Thank you.” 

 

After Elrond had redressed, he sat down on the ground and beckoned Adar over. Adar lay down with his head in Elrond’s lap and gazed up at the elf’s face. They sat in silence for a time. Elrond looked as if he was deep in thought. Adar watched the creases at his brow and around his lips. He wanted to smooth them out, to stop Elrond’s worrying, but he wrestled the urge and allowed the elf time to think. 

 

“I confess I am not very experienced,” Elrond said, now looking down at him, “I’m sorry.”

“No,” Adar soothed, “I was enjoying it. A great deal, in fact. You were perfect. It wasn’t your fault. It was a memory. A bad one.” 

Adar saw relief in Elrond’s face, but a sadness crept in at the corners of his eyes.

“Do you wish to speak of it?” Elrond asked, “The memory I mean.”

“No,” Adar replied, “Not now.”

“If you ever do…” he paused, “I am here.” 

“Thank you,” Adar replied. Before Galadriel, he had assumed he would never discuss the extent of Sauron’s abuse, and even with her, he had not been able to bring himself to speak of this. He was not sure if he ever would be able to put it into words, but Elrond’s offer made his heart swell. 

“Wherever it was that you went, whoever it was that hurt you, you did not deserve it,” Elrond said, as he stroked Adar’s hair. “I admire your strength, Adar,” he continued, “But you do not have to be strong around me.”

A surge of emotion rose from Adar’s stomach, up to the crown of his head. Tears welled in his eyes.

“Why do you treat me with such kindness?” Adar asked.

Elrond considered for a moment, before responding, 

“Many of us are bound by all manner of things, an oath, a master, even ourselves. Sometimes it’s impossible to overcome such bindings. Or, when we do, the strength required may harden our hearts. The parts that remember kindness get locked away in fortresses of stone. It’s a cold and lonely existence. But the kindness of others can still warm the battlements like the summer sun. With enough light, the walls turn to dust because they are no longer needed.” 

Adar did not know what to say. It was too much to take in. He pushed himself up and kissed Elrond. It was the softest and most tender kiss Adar had ever experienced. His hand rested gently upon the elf’s cheek. He felt a warm tear roll over his thumb. Hope bloomed in Adar’s chest. 

Notes:

Phew, this one was v emotional to write. I hope you felt cared for throughout.

Thank you for reading <3

Chapter 7: No Pain, No Flames, No Darkness

Summary:

"Adar closed his eyes and surrendered his body to the forest. In his mind’s eye, roots grew out of his back and down into the ground. With each press of Elrond’s lips, they delved deeper into the earth, spreading out in all directions. His awareness of their environs became so acute, he felt worms wriggle their way through the soil and the tiny legs of beetles rummaging through detritus. On each inhale he breathed in ash and green leaves and Elrond. On each exhale his spirit expanded."

Special thanks to cloudbower for beta reading and to AuteurOnirique for "berries".

Content notes: brief allusion to past SA, edging, orgasm denial, soft dom Elrond, sub Adar, blow job, hand job, massage, penetrative sex, obscene amounts of eye contact, trees (but in a sexy way)

Chapter playlist:
Mazzy Star - Fade Into You
Holly Herndon - Frontier
DJ Sammy - Heaven

 

Adar was beneath a canopy of trees. Wide trunks reached high above him. Branches laden with large green leaves shaded the forest floor. Wooden huts were scattered between the trees. Glûg stood in the doorway of one of them. Little Bula stood next to him, holding his hand. Glûg’s mate, Sharog was tending to a mushroom garden in front of the hut. Arondir was helping her. The two of them chatted away as they worked. Galadriel was demonstrating sword forms to a crowd of uruk. Periodically, they grunted in approval. She was impressing them. A group of uruk children sat in a semi-circle around Elrond. Gil-galad was amongst them. A toddler clambered her way up his shoulders and grabbed at his crown. Gil-galad laughed as he removed it from his head and showed it to her. Elrond was teaching the children a song in the Black Speech. He managed to make the guttural intonations sound beautiful. The song was about Morgoth’s demise. All the children were singing with gusto, their voices loud and confident. Each verse ended with an enthusiastic “NAMPAT!” Elrond looked over at Adar and smiled. Adar beamed back at him. 

 

__________

 

There was a warm weight on Adar’s chest. His bare skin tingled at the sensation of soft breaths against it. He let out a contented sigh and stroked Elrond’s hair. 

“Are you awake?” Adar whispered.

Elrond stirred. “I am unsure,” he sounded groggy. 

Adar laughed softly and opened his eyes. He looked down at Elrond, who was sprawled across his chest. The elf seemed so peaceful. A beam of morning light spilt through the curtains and illuminated Elrond’s cheek. Adar brushed his foot against Elrond’s calf.

“Mmm,” Elrond murmured, “I like waking up like this.”

“As do I,” Adar replied, then kissed Elrond’s head. His belly fluttered as he breathed in Elrond’s scent.

Adar slowly trailed his fingers up Elrond’s spine. 

“How did you sleep?” he asked.

“Very well,” Elrond replied, sounding more awake, “And you?”

“Peacefully. I dreamt that uruk and elves lived in harmony,” Adar replied, his voice wistful.

Elrond kissed the base of his sternum. 

“I hope your dream comes to pass,” said Elrond.

Adar gave him a gentle squeeze. Knowing that Elrond wanted peace for the uruks made his heart swell. 

“You were singing in the Black Speech,” said Adar.

Elrond tilted his head to look up at him, “Was I? You shall have to teach me.”

Adar smiled. “Of course.” 

Elrond brushed his fingers against Adar’s jaw. Adar closed his eyes and sighed, savouring Elrond’s caress. 

Yesterday had been more than Adar could have hoped for. In just one day so much had changed between them. There were still parts of him that wanted to recoil from Elrond’s touch, but they were much quieter now. They did not have the same hold on him. 

 

Elrond had invited him to stay the night after spending the day together. Adar had been all too happy to accept the invitation. He had envisioned Elrond’s room many times. It was different than what he expected. Adar had imagined it to be far more pretentious. In reality, it was comfortable and fairly humble. The bed had a simple frame with subtle carvings on its headboard. The mattress was firm, which was far better for Adar’s joints. The sheets were a dusty blue, a very soothing tone. There were books and scrolls neatly stored on shelves and an armchair, which Adar supposed Elrond sat in to read. Next to the chair was a side table, on which sat a vase of wildflowers. 

 

Last night, they talked at length about Elrond’s past. Adar had not realised how tumultuous his early years had been. The conversation gave Adar a better view of who Elrond was. He was strong, self-assured, determined, wise and, most of all, kind. It was inspiring, to be such a source of light despite hardships like those Elrond had endured. Elrond explained that he often felt like an outcast among the elves, he had been treated as lesser by many of them. Adar was not surprised by this but it angered him regardless. He wondered if he had sensed Elrond’s otherness; if that had been what had drawn him to him. The intensity of his pining could not have solely been due to his pretty face. 

 

The conversation led to more kissing. It was cautious at first, but before long they were ripping off one another’s clothing. However, before things could go further, Elrond suggested they show restraint. He said it might help Adar feel safe. It had been difficult, especially when Adar felt Elrond’s hard cock against his stomach and looked down to see a shimmering strand stretch between the two of them. But, Adar deeply appreciated Elrond’s thoughtful suggestion. He still felt on edge after getting trapped in the memory of Angband, it took the pressure off of him to know that nothing more was expected of him. Besides, Adar enjoyed the opportunity to savour Elrond’s body. They kissed and caressed one another late into the night. It had been perfect. None had ever been so careful with Adar before.

 

“Perhaps I am gifted with foresight,” Adar said, after minutes of comfortable silence.

“Oh? Is that so?” Elrond now sounded fully awake. 

“I dreamt of you most nights since coming here,” he replied. A sliver of embarrassment wriggled in his stomach. For a moment he wished he had not said it. But the look Elrond gave him made the feeling vanish.

“And what was I doing in these dreams of yours?” Elrond purred as he shifted to his knees and crawled up Adar’s body. 

“Oh, all sorts of things,” Adar muttered, “In one, I licked the juice of red berries from your fingers.”

Elrond looked as if he had suddenly realised something. He chuckled. 

“What?” Adar asked, face growing hot. 

“Nothing,” Elrond replied, before pouncing on him. 

 

Elrond kissed him as if he were trying to devour him. Their bodies pushed and rubbed against each other as their hands wandered and squeezed. They rolled onto their sides and Adar dragged his nails up Elrond’s back. The elf moaned and slid one of his legs between Adar’s. The sensation of his hard cock brushing against Elrond’s thigh made Adar gasp. His breaths became ragged and his vision started to blur.

“I want you,” Adar breathed. Heat roared in his core.

“And I, you,” Elrond rasped between kisses upon his neck. 

 

Then Elrond pulled back, panting. 

“How can I ensure you feel safe?” he asked.

Adar was desperate to push past his discomforts, but he did not want a repeat of yesterday. He did his best to quell the fire that raged inside him.

“I don’t know,” Adar sighed.

Elrond set himself down beside him and began lazily tracing a circle around Adar’s nipple. Adar tried not to think about the way Elrond’s erection was pressed against his side. 

“What happened yesterday,” Adar said reluctantly, “I think it only happens if I feel that I am not in control.”

“Has it happened before?” Elrond asked.

“Not for a long time,” Adar replied. At least not in that situation… 

“Interesting,” Elrond sounded intrigued.

“Do your thoughts turn to Gil-galad?” Adar asked. 

Elrond flushed. “I must admit, I’ve been curious. The two of you were awfully loud.” 

“I wanted you to hear,” Adar muttered, pepping kisses up Elrond’s neck, “Is that wicked of me?” 

Thinking of that night did not help with the restraint he was attempting. Gil-galad’s cries of pleasure had been so sweet, and Elrond’s fluster afterwards… 

“Yes,” Elrond breathed, “Terribly wicked.”

“Did hearing us make you ache? Did you touch yourse-”

“Adar!” Elrond interrupted, “He is my King.”

“Did you?” Adar pressed.

“The truth would excite you overmuch,” Elrond attempted to sound firm but the rasp in his tone betrayed his desire.

He imagined Elrond in the study. Hand working under the desk. Listening to him fuck his King. Adar groaned softly.

“Quildë,” Elrond soothed, stroking Adar’s hair. 

Adar sighed but breathed deeply to settle himself. 

 

“Will he mind?” Elrond asked after a few minutes, “That we…”

“No, I think not,” Adar replied, “He encouraged me to profess my desire to you.”

“Oh,” Elrond replied. Then his eyes narrowed. “I wonder if he’s spoken with Galadriel about us.”

Adar laughed softly. “I would not be surprised.” 

Elrond sighed. “I do not like this new alliance of theirs.”

“How long would it have taken us without their intervention?” Adar said as he trailed his fingers over Elrond’s stomach.

“Too long,” Elrond admitted, “Centuries. Perhaps never.”

“Exactly,” Adar replied. “I behaved poorly when Gil-galad broached the subject. I must apologise.” 

“What did you do?” Elrond asked.

“It matters not,” Adar replied. 

Elrond arched a brow.

Adar sighed. “I spoke brusquely and stormed out on him.” 

“So firey,” Elrond smirked. “But he will forgive you. Magnanimity is one of his strengths.”

“I hope so, I have grown fond of him,” Adar replied. “If he does, I intend to continue our relationship.” 

“If that is your way of asking if I mind, I do not,” Elrond said flatly.

Adar found his tone irksome. He shifted away to put some distance between them.

“Do I need your permission?” 

“No, but it is courteous to ask.” 

“You are right,” Adar grumbled. “It has been overlong since I had a lover, and now I find myself with two,” his tone softened, “You truly do not mind?”

“I do not,” Elrond replied, “He has been markedly more relaxed of late. It gladens my heart to see him at ease. I am sure you can find the time for both of us.” 

“I shall have to,” Adar replied with a smile, “I enjoy your company, and his, too much.”

“I gather it is different with Gil-galad?” Elrond asked, “Your dynamic, I mean.”

“It is,” Adar replied.

“And the variety pleases you?” Elrond asked, reaching out a hand to beckon Adar back to him.

“It does,” Adar smirked, taking Elrond’s hand.

 

Adar got onto his knees and kissed his way up Elrond’s torso. The flames he had doused roared once more at the sound of Elrond’s soft sighs. He shifted a leg over the elf to straddle him. Elrond trailed his fingers across Adar’s chest and down below his navel. They left sparks in their wake, like flint drawn across steel. 

“What we were doing yesterday…” Elrond said sheepishly, “I liked it. Those I have bedded before assumed I wished to be ravished while I lay passively on my back.”

“And you did not?” Adar asked as he brushed a stray curl from Elrond’s face.

“Well,” Elrond replied, “It was lovely. But I have other desires, ones I have not had the opportunity to explore fully.”

Adar imagined all the ways they could uncover each other’s hidden desires. A shiver ran through him as need consumed him. He leaned down to run his tongue across Elrond’s collarbone. 

Elrond tilted Adar’s chin up to look at him. “I want us both to feel safe, Adar.”

Adar huffed, he did not appreciate the interruption. “ I want you to tie me to this bed and keep me here for centuries,” he replied in a voice thick with lust. 

Elrond put his hands on Adar’s upper arms and flipped him onto his back, switching their places and pinning him to the bed. Adar saw it coming but let it happen. He wanted it.

“You still have not told me how to make you feel safe,” Elrond frowned.

Adar bristled. He did not wish to speak of it. Besides, it was difficult to concentrate with Elrond on straddling him. 

“I want you to use me for your pleasure. I want to be your plaything,” he purred, gazing up at Elrond through heavy-lidded eyes.

He ran his hand down Elrond’s side, swept over his hip, and brushed his fingers along the inside of Elrond’s thigh. The elf moaned.

 

“Adar,” Elrond’s voice was now stern. He moved Adar’s hand from his thigh to the bed. “Is there a way for you to feel safe even if you aren’t in control? What soothes you? What tethers you to the present?”

Adar huffed, he was growing weary of Elrond’s kindness. No, he thought, stop . He wrestled with his discomfort. It was difficult to let himself be taken care of, and he had not considered these questions before. 

“I cannot concentrate with you on top of me,” he grumbled.

Elrond dismounted and settled on the bed. Adar closed his eyes and considered. 

“Trees,” he said, after thinking for a few minutes.

“Okay,” Elrond replied, “Anything else?”

 “Your voice,” Adar said, rolling onto his side to look at Elrond, “If you spoke to me, reminded me I am with you. I think that would help.”

“Of course,” Elrond said as he caressed Adar’s cheek. “And what if you feel yourself start to slip? Would you be able to signal it to me?” 

“I could tap you?” Adar replied.

“And if your arms are restrained? Will you tell me to stop?” Elrond asked.

“I could say ‘berries’,” he replied. There had been times he had cried out ‘stop’ and not been heard. While he trusted Elrond, ‘berries’ seemed a less weighty word. 

Elrond laughed softly, then noticed the strained look on Adar’s face. He took Adar’s hand in his. The contact was a lifeline. It buoyed Adar, keeping him from descending into his memories. He lifted his gaze back to Elrond’s eyes.

“If you need me to stop, tap me twice or say berries,” Elrond said in a reassuring tone, “But if you freeze up I’ll make sure to stop right away. Does that sound adequate?”

“Yes,” Adar replied. Hope filled him. Perhaps his desires could be fulfilled. 

Elrond sat up. “Right, come.” 

Adar huffed, “What?”

“Get dressed,” Elrond continued.

“Why?” Adar said, indignantly.

“We’re going to the forest,” Elrond said, “I’ll make sure to wear something easier to remove. Shall I bring some rope?”

 

___________

Adar relaxed into the sensation of Elrond’s cock rhythmically ramming into his throat. The pace was slow enough that each thrust sent a tremor through his body. He had declined the rope, he did not think he was ready for that, not yet. But still, he had done as Elrond commanded and kept his hands anchored on either side of the elf’s body, palms pressed flat against the tree Elrond had his back against. He had kept his gauntlet on to protect his wrist. The tree’s bark was hard and cragged, it made Adar feel solid and connected. They were at the edge of the ashen clearing. Elrond tugged at Adar’s hair to tilt his head up. Glittering grey eyes stared down at him.

“Adar,” Elrond moaned.

Adar whimpered. 

“Do not take your gaze from me,” Elrond commanded softly. 

A noise came from Adar’s throat. He was trying to say yes, but Elrond, thick in his mouth, dampened the sound. Elrond tangled his fingers in Adar’s hair and increased his pace. Adar hollowed his cheeks around the elf’s cock. Elrond’s brow crinkled, his lips parted as a groan escaped between them. Adar echoed with a muffled grunt. 

“Adar… Your mouth feels so good,” Elrond breathed, “You look so beautiful with my cock in your mouth.”

Adar quivered at the encouragement. His own cock ached to be stroked, but he kept his hands against the tree, and his eyes on Elrond. 

 

When his head started to spin, he relaxed his cheeks and felt saliva pour down his chin. Elrond paused to allow him to catch his breath. Adar’s mouth felt so empty without Elrond’s cock in it.

“You are doing so well, Adar,” Elrond cooed as he traced Adar’s lips with his fingers.

Adar whimpered at the praise and lapped at Elrond’s fingers.

Elrond guided his cock back into Adar’s mouth and started to move again, faster now. Adar bobbed his head back and forth in tandem with Elrond’s thrusts. 

“Fuck….. Adar, fuck,” Elrond moaned.

Elrond still stared down at him, making sure Adar did not look away. Though, it did seem that the elf was finding it difficult to keep them open. Excitement fizzed in Adar’s stomach; he desperately wanted to make Elrond come. He relaxed his palette, allowing Elrond to delve deeper. Adar spluttered once and his eyes rolled back. It felt so good to be smothered by the elf’s cock. Elrond’s moans turned into cries. He pulled Adar’s head toward him as his pace became frantic. Adar’s mind cleared of all worries and woes. The only thing that mattered to him was being filled with Elrond. With one final thrust, Elrond exploded inside his mouth. Adar’s head lurched. He steadied himself against the tree as Elrond’s cock twitched against his tongue. 

 

Adar felt Elrond’s fingers trail across his shoulders. He leaned back and pointedly swallowed while looking up into Elrond’s eyes. The elf’s cheeks were flushed and sweat glistened on his brow, but a smile formed on his lips. 

“How do I taste?” he asked. 

“Delicious,” Adar purred. He really was, even his seed. Adar visualised it settling in his stomach. It felt good to have a part of Elrond inside him. “I could devour you whole,” he continued, between kisses upon Elrond’s thighs. 

The thick muscles shuddered against his lips. Adar wanted more. He got to his feet and pinned Elrond against the tree. Adar’s kiss was feral, he was desperate to be touched. Elrond turned his face away.

“Adar,” he panted, “Give me a minute.” 

Adar pressed his forehead against Elrond’s chest and put his bare hand on the elf’s hip. Elrond’s skin felt especially soft and warm beneath his skin. The hand had started to go numb against the bark, but now life returned to it. 

“Please touch me,” he whimpered. 

Elrond kissed the crown of his head as his fingers drifted down Adar’s belly, painfully slow. Adar grunted to hurry him. 

Elrond removed his hand, “So impatient.” 

Adar growled and pushed up closer to Elrond. 

 

The next thing he knew, Adar felt his back connect with the tree. He gasped. Elrond’s movement had been graceful and quick. He had not expected it but it did not hurt him nor make him afraid.  

“Be good,” Elrond ordered, “Keep your hands against the tree.”

Adar’s cock throbbed in protest, but he did his best to calm himself and pressed his palms back against the bark.

“Good,” Elrond praised, as he stroked the inside of Adar’s thigh. 

Adar whimpered. This was torture, in the best possible way. 

Elrond’s fingers brushed along Adar’s shaft. His back arched as a moan spilled from his lips. The bark pressed into shoulders. 

“Do you like being teased?” Elrond asked in a low voice.

“By you, yes,” Adar breathed.

“I want to make you feel good, Adar,” the words were truly kind, but the elf’s tone made it sound filthy, “I want to make your pleasure stretch out until you forget what it is to feel pain. Would you like that?”

Elrond was gently circling the head of Adar’s cock with a fingertip.

“Yes,” Adar shuddered. He liked the sound of that very much. 

“Do you trust me?” Elrond asked, his tone was serious now.

Adar considered. He thought it strange, but he did. No one had ever looked after him the way Elrond had yesterday. No one had ever shown the restraint that Elrond had. 

“Yes, I do” Adar breathed. 

Elrond smiled warmly at that. The sight made Adar realise that this dynamic was only fun if he knew it was a game. It was important for him to be able to see through the illusion. 

“You have my trust, Elrond,” he repeated. 

“I will do everything in my power to remain worthy of it,” Elrond replied, before kissing Adar’s brow. “Now,” he continued, voice transforming back into a command, “You may not come until I permit you to.”

Adar trembled, he would do his best to obey. 

“Yes, Elrond,” he rasped. 

Elrond leaned in to kiss him as he began to slowly pump Adar’s cock. Adar moaned softly against the elf’s lips. He felt everything else dissolve as he focused on the sensation of every place that Elrond’s skin met his. All his grief, all his pain, dissolved into warmth and sparks of pleasure. He wanted this to last forever, for a moment he wished Elrond would never allow him to come. 

“Good,” Elrond murmured in his ear, “That’s it, relax. Well done.”

Adar leaned his forehead against the elf’s as he breathed in time with Elrond’s hand. At this close distance, Elrond’s grey eyes blurred into one. 

 

The familiar heaviness in his body was nowhere to be found. He felt fuzzy and light. He was no longer aware of the low moans that came from his throat. Heat built in his pelvis as Elrond continued his steady pace. Before he knew it, Adar started approaching climax. Elrond leaned in to kiss him again, hand speeding up as their lips met. Adar shuddered and groaned. Just as he was at the precipice, Elrond moved both hands to Adar’s face to deepen their kiss. Adar closed his eyes and saw stars behind their lids. He was so close, but Elrond had decided it was not yet time. He did not think he could last much longer.

Elrond placed a hand over Adar’s heart. He then moved Adar’s hand to his own chest. The elf’s heart was not beating quite as fast as his.

“Breathe with me,” Elrond said.

Adar closed his eyes and followed the slow rise and fall of Elrond’s chest. His breaths felt like waves tumbling onto a pebbled beach, then retreating back to the sea. Their heartbeats slowed to the same rhythm as their breathing synchronised. Adar relaxed somewhat, though he still ached for release.

 

“Here,” Elrond muttered, taking Adar’s hand. 

Elrond led him to the centre of the clearing, near the boulder on which he had sat yesterday. 

“Lie down,” he instructed.

Adar lay down on the ashen earth. He felt his weight spread evenly across the ground. Above, the sky was blue with a smattering of fluffy white clouds. He heard Elrond’s soft footfalls as he moved away, and then returned. 

“I have noticed that you move as though your legs pain you,” said Elrond, now kneeling at his side, “I thought you might like a massage.” He showed Adar a bottle of oil.

“Now?” Adar replied. His body still throbbed with denial.

“If you truly do not wish me to, I will not,” Elrond replied, brushing away strands of hair that were stuck to Adar’s face, “But I promise it will feel good.”

Adar considered. No one had offered to massage him before. It seemed a little unorthodox but he trusted Elrond.

“Yes,” Adar said, “I would like you to.”

Elrond got to work. He lifted Adar’s foot into his lap, rubbed his hands with the oil, and spread it from Adar’s ankle up to his knee. At first, Adar felt awkward. Silly, when just now they had been all over each other. But after a few minutes of Elrond’s deft hands working his muscles, he started to enjoy it. He had already been feeling more relaxed than he had in a long while, but Elrond’s fingers searched out and melted away any lingering spots of tension. The amount of pressure he used was perfect, he was not afraid to get deep into the muscles. By the time Elrond finished the other calf and moved up to his thighs, Adar felt like he was sinking deep into the ground.

He watched the clouds gently drift by as Elrond worked. As the elf continued higher up his legs, Adar’s arousal redoubled. The elf’s hands let loose soft sighs from Adar’s lips. His cock still ached and twitched, but he felt less urgency now. He merely desired the touches to continue. Then, Elrond’s fingertips softly brushed up his inner thighs. Adar shivered, the gentle touch felt especially good after the deep massaging. Elrond circled across his lower belly and back down to his thighs. Goose pimples appeared across Adar’s skin. 

“You are so beautiful,” Elrond said, wistfully. 

Adar looked at him, was now tracing the pattern of scars on his abdomen.

“Even with all these?” he said, gesturing to the scars.

“Of course,” Elrond replied, “They are a part of you, and you are beautiful. Not in spite of them. Not even because of them. It’s quite simple really, you are beautiful by virtue of being you.”

For a moment, Adar saw himself through Elrond’s eyes. He saw himself not as something unnatural and tainted, but wild and beautiful. A surge of emotion rose within him as he allowed himself a brief reprise from centuries of inner turmoil.

 

Elrond shifted to straddle him and kissed down his neck and across his chest. He took Adar’s wrists and carefully pinned them above his head. He was glad he had not removed his gauntlet, it would have been a shame for pain to mar his pleasure. Elrond kissed his lips. As he did so, Adar closed his eyes and surrendered his body to the forest. In his mind’s eye, roots grew out of his back and down into the ground. With each press of Elrond’s lips, they delved deeper into the earth, spreading out in all directions. His awareness of their environs became so acute, he felt worms wriggle their way through the soil and the tiny legs of beetles rummaging through detritus. On each inhale he breathed in ash and green leaves and Elrond. On each exhale his spirit expanded. Tears flowed freely down his cheeks. 

 

Elrond pulled back, letting go of his wrists.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

“Yes,” Adar breathed as he opened his eyes. He stroked Elrond’s cheek with his thumb.

“Why do you weep?” Elrond asked.

“I am happy,” Adar replied. He could not think how else to put it. 

Elrond smiled and kissed his tear-stained cheeks. “I want to be closer to you,” he whispered.

“I would love that,” Adar said, as he ran his hands down the elf’s sides.

Elrond reached for the bottle of oil and passed it to Adar. He poured some over his fingers. As soon as he had stoppered the bottle, Elrond passionately kissed him again. Adar ran his fingers down the crevice of Elrond's buttocks. Elrond trembled. After teasing him open, Adar pressed his fingertip inside. Elrond moaned against his lips. Soon, Adar added a second finger. And then a third. With a shudder, Elrond collapsed forward onto Adar’s chest.

“Are you ready?” Adar whispered in his ear. 

Elrond’s hair tickled his nose as he nodded.

 

When Elrond pushed himself up, Adar saw that his cheeks and ear tips were pink. The elf snatched up the vial and greedily poured oil onto Adar’s cock, spreading it with his other hand. The sensation briefly made Adar dissolve back into the ground. But the warmth and pressure of Elrond’s thighs against his hips quickly brought him back into his body. With great care, Elrond sank onto him. As he did, Adar imagined a great tree sprouting from his chest. It grew up through Elrond’s body. Its branches reached out above them. They were speckled with white blossoms that danced in the breeze. The forest was inside him and he was inside Elrond. Nothing else mattered. There was no pain, no flames, no darkness. As Elrond ground against him, Adar watched pleasure unfurl across his face. His lips parted to let out small gasps. His lashes fluttered open and shut with each thrust of his hips. Adar reached up and pulled Elrond down to kiss him. As he did so, Elrond increased his pace. The rhythm of it matched their breaths, which had synchronised once more. They moved as two beings melded into one. Heat gradually rose in his body. It started as a warm campfire but built into a raging inferno. Shimmers of bliss coursed through his veins. He knew he was close.

“Elrond,” he breathed, “May I come?”

“Yes,” Elrond groaned.

Adar broke rhythm, grabbed Elrond’s hips and began thrusting up into him, fast and hard. Elrond cried out and buried his face in Adar’s neck. 

“Adar,” he sobbed.

 

The sound of his name on Elrond’s lips sent Adar tumbling over the edge. The aching throb in his loins metamorphosed into fathomless pleasure. With a violent shudder, he released deep inside Elrond. His body exploded into a million gyrating pieces. Fractured lights danced before his eyes. He felt inconceivably whole and immeasurably shattered all at once. Adar was himself. And he was Elrond. And he was the earth. And the songbirds. And the trees they perched in. And the breeze that jostled their branches. He felt Elrond’s muscles spasm around his cock as his seed spilled on Adar’s stomach. The sensation sent an aftershock of sparks through him. He let out a thin whine as his muscles went limp against the ground. Elrond collapsed on top of him. They lay there, taking deep shuddering breaths and letting out contented moans.

 

When they had both recovered, Elrond lay down beside him. For a while, they quietly gazed into one another’s eyes, basking in the afterglow.

Eventually, Elrond spoke.

“I am glad I convinced the High King to bring you with us,” he said, absentmindedly tracing his fingers across Adar’s chest. 

“As am I,” Adar replied with a slightly dazed smile. 

After everything that had happened, everything he had done, he did not think he would ever feel happy again. But in this moment, he did. Truly joyous was his mood. He scooped up Elrond’s hand in his and kissed each of the elf’s fingers.

“Elrond,” he said, “I missed my opportunity to confess my feelings for you. I was unsure of what to say. But I now know what I would have said, had you not beaten me to the mark.”

The corner of Elrond’s mouth curled up into a smile. “Go on…”

Adar took a steadying breath. “You have tormented me since the day you charged toward me in that shining armour. Whether dreaming or awake, you have never been far from my thoughts. The memory of how sweetly you sing brings tears to my eyes. I have often wondered what it might be like to press my lips to yours. Or run my fingers through your curls. Or how your skin would feel against mine. I have wanted nothing more than to be by your side. Yet, whenever I found myself in your company, my fear and self-hatred twisted my longing into frustration and rage. It may seem that I dislike you, but it is quite the opposite. I respect and admire you. You inspire me to keep reaching toward the light in spite of everything.”

“Hmm,” Elrond teased, “Not quite as romantic as mine.” 

Adar furrowed his brow. 

“What? You said that I tormented you.”

“Is that not the pinnacle of romance?” Adar smirked.

Elrond sighed, “I suppose it can feel that way, but torment was not my intention.”

“Is that so?” Adar asked with an arched brow, “It seems to me that you take great pleasure in my torment.”

Elrond snorted a laugh. “Perhaps I do now.” 

“Good,” Adar replied, “There is no other I would prefer as my tormentor.” 

 

Golden light filled the clearing as the sun began to set. Adar looked about and saw that clover now carpeted the ashen earth, and the saplings had grown a few feet taller. 

“Would you look at that,” he said, amazed.

“How did you…” Elrond trailed off.

“I do not know,” Adar replied, “Perhaps it was you?”

“Well, whatever the cause,” Elrond said, “I believe it to be a good omen.”

“A good omen, or perhaps we are just especially skilled at lovemaking,” Adar smirked.

Elrond laughed and stroked Adar’s cheek.

“Yes, it was very good,” he said, “Thank you, Adar. You were perfect.”

He pulled Elrond into his arms and kissed his forehead. “It was incredible. You are truly a marvel.” 

Elrond nuzzled against his chest and sighed happily. 

“As much as I would love to keep you in the forest,” he said, “We should return soon. Would you care to join me and Galadriel for dinner? I plan on making dumplings.”

Adar’s stomach growled in response. “Mmm, I would love to,” he smiled. 

 

That evening, Adar feasted with Elrond and Galadriel. His skin was warmed by the hearth, his belly by the food, and his heart by his companions. He slept peacefully in Elrond’s arms.

Notes:

One time I dreamt that a tree fucked me and I haven't been the same since.

Thanks so much for reading! I'm taking a break from this for a bit to focus on other writing projects, but I will be turning this into a series. In the future, expect a harvest festival, a Galadriel perspective (featuring Rían smut (yes she's also not dead)), an Elrond perspective, and a trip to Khazad-dûm.