FIC: A Rude Awakening (#47 of 50passages), warning: slash, NC-17
My eyeballs are threatening to run off to bed without me, but as this entry has been sitting in my folder for several days now, I decided to just quickly post it.
Title: A Rude Awakening
Fandom: LOTR
Characters: Elladan/Elrohir [explicit twincest]
Prompt: 047 (“Where are we? How did I get here?”)
Word Count: 1,545
Rating: NC-17
Summary: The failure of brotherhood.
Author's Notes: Yet another stand-alone ficlet that dug its sudden claws into me whilst I was besieged by a brood of bunnies and unfinished WIPs. For someone who doesn't think of herself as a twincest writer, I sure am writing a lot of it.
Many grateful hugs to the amazing anorielle for beta-reading this.
Elrohir awoke, and at once felt both lighter and heavier than his norm. He was saved from going into a panic by the familiar scent of his brother, which had always comforted him even as a child. But the feel of the scratchy bed beneath him and the dark of the immediate surroundings placed them as being elsewhere than home.
Where are we?
He blinked, chasing the last of the sleep from his eyes, and recent memory returned. The twin sons of Elrond had finally been allowed by their parents to journey together without escort, and they were currently passing through the wide expanse of Rhovanion. They had, for the most part, slept in the open under the shining stars so loved by the Eldar. But early the previous evening, their dwindling supplies had incited them to stop in a small Mannish settlement located on the Vale of Anduin, in order to purchase more. Finding therein a fairly decent inn, and seeing the lateness of the hour, the brethren had decided to treat themselves to a warm bed with a mattress under their weary bodies.
The younger twin frowned, remembering that, in another burst of spontaneity, they had passed the evening drinking a potent wine in the common-room. He was not sure what had inspired them to drink so much, but there were a few fair story-tellers in the company, and the wine and warmth were a pleasant change after their months of living in the wild. Seeing as he had made it to bed, they must have had sense enough to get to their rooms before falling asleep.
He felt his brother shift position on the other side of the bed. There was another wondrous thing- Elladan had not hogged the sheets over the night! Perhaps the wine had sunk him too far into slumber for his usual night-time restlessness.
With a luxuriant yawn, Elrohir pushed down the blanket a little, and shuddered at the touch of the chill morning air upon his warmed skin. He frowned, having looked down and realised that he had not worn his usual loose shirt to bed. He tried to scoot up the bed, and winced at the sudden discomfort in… his… nether regions…
Eyes widening, the son of Elrond threw back the sheets, too alarmed now to notice the bite of a cold spring morning. He saw that he was, indeed, entirely naked. Furthermore, splotches of colour decorated his smooth skin all along his body- and were those teeth marks around one nipple?
Elrohir near jumped out of bed and tugged out a floor-length robe from his pack. Feeling slightly less exposed, he returned to the bed, but instead of sitting back down again, he went over to his twin’s side, gazing at his brother with a mixture of incomprehension and fear. His hand trembling, he slowly picked up the edge of the linen sheet that had served as a blanket over them both through the night, and drew it down to uncover his twin’s body.
The cloth fell from his suddenly nerveless fingers when he reached his brother’s hip. For there was no doubt that Elladan was as naked as he had been, and the pattern of love-bruises resembled the spatter of dark red paint upon the lightly tanned canvas of the older twin’s form.
Elladan began to wake, no doubt drawn out of dreams by the cold air after the warmth beneath the sheets. With a young warrior’s sudden wariness, he jerked up to a sitting position, his thoughts clear in his eyes, Where am I? How did I get here? Then his sight landed on his brother, still standing over him, and he visibly relaxed. The relief that his mere presence brought made Elrohir wish that his twin would somehow not notice his unclad state, or the vivid bruising all over his body.
Unfortunately the older son of Elrond was as perceptive as he, for he quickly frowned and looked down at himself. His puzzlement grew as he noticed the marks upon his skin. Looking up at Elrohir in confusion, those grey eyes fastened suddenly on his front, and the younger twin belatedly realised that the similar bruises on him were still visible through the open gap on the front of his robe. A loud gasp announced his brother’s arrival at the same conclusion as to what must have transpired in the previous night.
Even in the dim light- for the dawn was just beginning to filter through the misted glass of the window- they could see their matching pallor, and such a horror gripped them that they were rendered effectively speechless for long moments.
“Elladan,” the whisper slipped unbidden through Elrohir’s lips. “Elladan…”
As if it were a key, his mind suddenly relinquished its hold on the memories, and images flitted past, each second of recollection tightening the dread that had wrapped itself ‘round his heart-
The potent wine and good company had left them in high spirits. They achieved their room and bed by supporting one another, and lay with their warm bodies snuggled up as if they were elflings once again. Though the light was extinguished, sleep would not come for either, and so they had drowsily conversed about little nothings, reliving hunts and youthful escapades and fabricating fantastical stories about their friends back home. Their speech grew more and more insensate, and somewhere along the way they had stripped off their clothing, feeling too warm from the wine. The kisses began, chaste pecks at first, as they teased one another over childhood scrapes.
Then the kisses moved from face to neck, and from neck to chest, steadily downwards. Lips that meant to tickle sensitive spots brought forth shuddering gasps instead of laughter. The dark was nearly pitch black, but they knew the other’s body better than their own. The drink cast it all into something like a dream.
Elladan, Elladan, he had cried. Neither yes, nor no- simply, Elladan.
Suddenly a heated rod was pushed roughly inside of him, and he shouted. But instead of seeking to escape, he had pushed back, impaling himself further, and he clutched at the worn wooden headboard as his sweating body was so intimately penetrated, again and again and again...
-his knees weakened beneath him, and he took a step backwards to lean against a wall. Sliding down the cold wood, Elrohir began shaking, all the warmth in his body dissipating before a wave of revulsion. On the bed, Elladan made no move to help him, but continued staring unseeing at his hands on his lap.
“Elladan,” he whispered, on the verge of sobbing. He felt a coldness that was alien to one bearing Elven blood. Why was his brother not looking at him? Even at the height of one of their disagreements, Elladan had never failed to succour him when he was hurt or distressed. He became acutely aware of the throbbing in his most intimate of passages.
Suddenly, he was roughly hauled up to his feet. Elladan’s hands clutched at his robe, and pulled him so that his nose bumped against his brother’s. “Never, never, never speak of this! It did not happen! This could not have happened!” The last came out in a shout that seemed to echo across the rented room. A fell mood was upon the eldest son of Elrond, such that he looked fit to strike at his own twin.
“It is as you say, Elladan!” Elrohir cried. The hands released him, and he fell to the floor, now sobbing in truth and shaking violently.
After a few silent minutes, he felt Elladan bend down, and a hand was laid on his shoulder. Elrohir involuntarily cringed away from the touch, and if his head had not been buried in his hands he would have seen a look of pain pass his twin’s face.
“I- I am sorry, Elrohir,” the older twin said unsteadily. “I do not know what became of me.”
“It is no matter, brother,” the other replied, wiping his face with the sleeve of his robe. “You were distraught.” Yet in his heart he felt betrayed. Strangely, not by- what had passed between them- but rather his brother’s behaviour afterwards. For the first time in their relatively short lives, Elladan had failed him.
The brethren left the inn and the settlement but an hour later. Though Elrohir stated his forgiveness for the other twin’s behaviour, it seemed to Elladan that his brother was quicker in speech than in deed, for in the days after a shadow hovered over Elrohir’s spirit. The younger twin hid his discomfort in the saddle, but felt further betrayed when his twin did not realise his pain. Their bond allowed them to be aware of each other’s wellbeing, but for days after Elladan held himself separate, paying little attention to Elrohir other than what was apparent on the surface.
Yet after the waning and waxing of a moon, the Incident seemed behind them, and the twins were bantering with each other anew, though the elder never spoke of what took place that night, and the younger feared incurring such a wrath in his brother again.
But throughout his life, Elrohir would never forget the day he learned to fear his own brother.
See my Table of Prompts.
Title: A Rude Awakening
Fandom: LOTR
Characters: Elladan/Elrohir [explicit twincest]
Prompt: 047 (“Where are we? How did I get here?”)
Word Count: 1,545
Rating: NC-17
Summary: The failure of brotherhood.
Author's Notes: Yet another stand-alone ficlet that dug its sudden claws into me whilst I was besieged by a brood of bunnies and unfinished WIPs. For someone who doesn't think of herself as a twincest writer, I sure am writing a lot of it.
Many grateful hugs to the amazing anorielle for beta-reading this.
Elrohir awoke, and at once felt both lighter and heavier than his norm. He was saved from going into a panic by the familiar scent of his brother, which had always comforted him even as a child. But the feel of the scratchy bed beneath him and the dark of the immediate surroundings placed them as being elsewhere than home.
Where are we?
He blinked, chasing the last of the sleep from his eyes, and recent memory returned. The twin sons of Elrond had finally been allowed by their parents to journey together without escort, and they were currently passing through the wide expanse of Rhovanion. They had, for the most part, slept in the open under the shining stars so loved by the Eldar. But early the previous evening, their dwindling supplies had incited them to stop in a small Mannish settlement located on the Vale of Anduin, in order to purchase more. Finding therein a fairly decent inn, and seeing the lateness of the hour, the brethren had decided to treat themselves to a warm bed with a mattress under their weary bodies.
The younger twin frowned, remembering that, in another burst of spontaneity, they had passed the evening drinking a potent wine in the common-room. He was not sure what had inspired them to drink so much, but there were a few fair story-tellers in the company, and the wine and warmth were a pleasant change after their months of living in the wild. Seeing as he had made it to bed, they must have had sense enough to get to their rooms before falling asleep.
He felt his brother shift position on the other side of the bed. There was another wondrous thing- Elladan had not hogged the sheets over the night! Perhaps the wine had sunk him too far into slumber for his usual night-time restlessness.
With a luxuriant yawn, Elrohir pushed down the blanket a little, and shuddered at the touch of the chill morning air upon his warmed skin. He frowned, having looked down and realised that he had not worn his usual loose shirt to bed. He tried to scoot up the bed, and winced at the sudden discomfort in… his… nether regions…
Eyes widening, the son of Elrond threw back the sheets, too alarmed now to notice the bite of a cold spring morning. He saw that he was, indeed, entirely naked. Furthermore, splotches of colour decorated his smooth skin all along his body- and were those teeth marks around one nipple?
Elrohir near jumped out of bed and tugged out a floor-length robe from his pack. Feeling slightly less exposed, he returned to the bed, but instead of sitting back down again, he went over to his twin’s side, gazing at his brother with a mixture of incomprehension and fear. His hand trembling, he slowly picked up the edge of the linen sheet that had served as a blanket over them both through the night, and drew it down to uncover his twin’s body.
The cloth fell from his suddenly nerveless fingers when he reached his brother’s hip. For there was no doubt that Elladan was as naked as he had been, and the pattern of love-bruises resembled the spatter of dark red paint upon the lightly tanned canvas of the older twin’s form.
Elladan began to wake, no doubt drawn out of dreams by the cold air after the warmth beneath the sheets. With a young warrior’s sudden wariness, he jerked up to a sitting position, his thoughts clear in his eyes, Where am I? How did I get here? Then his sight landed on his brother, still standing over him, and he visibly relaxed. The relief that his mere presence brought made Elrohir wish that his twin would somehow not notice his unclad state, or the vivid bruising all over his body.
Unfortunately the older son of Elrond was as perceptive as he, for he quickly frowned and looked down at himself. His puzzlement grew as he noticed the marks upon his skin. Looking up at Elrohir in confusion, those grey eyes fastened suddenly on his front, and the younger twin belatedly realised that the similar bruises on him were still visible through the open gap on the front of his robe. A loud gasp announced his brother’s arrival at the same conclusion as to what must have transpired in the previous night.
Even in the dim light- for the dawn was just beginning to filter through the misted glass of the window- they could see their matching pallor, and such a horror gripped them that they were rendered effectively speechless for long moments.
“Elladan,” the whisper slipped unbidden through Elrohir’s lips. “Elladan…”
As if it were a key, his mind suddenly relinquished its hold on the memories, and images flitted past, each second of recollection tightening the dread that had wrapped itself ‘round his heart-
The potent wine and good company had left them in high spirits. They achieved their room and bed by supporting one another, and lay with their warm bodies snuggled up as if they were elflings once again. Though the light was extinguished, sleep would not come for either, and so they had drowsily conversed about little nothings, reliving hunts and youthful escapades and fabricating fantastical stories about their friends back home. Their speech grew more and more insensate, and somewhere along the way they had stripped off their clothing, feeling too warm from the wine. The kisses began, chaste pecks at first, as they teased one another over childhood scrapes.
Then the kisses moved from face to neck, and from neck to chest, steadily downwards. Lips that meant to tickle sensitive spots brought forth shuddering gasps instead of laughter. The dark was nearly pitch black, but they knew the other’s body better than their own. The drink cast it all into something like a dream.
Elladan, Elladan, he had cried. Neither yes, nor no- simply, Elladan.
Suddenly a heated rod was pushed roughly inside of him, and he shouted. But instead of seeking to escape, he had pushed back, impaling himself further, and he clutched at the worn wooden headboard as his sweating body was so intimately penetrated, again and again and again...
-his knees weakened beneath him, and he took a step backwards to lean against a wall. Sliding down the cold wood, Elrohir began shaking, all the warmth in his body dissipating before a wave of revulsion. On the bed, Elladan made no move to help him, but continued staring unseeing at his hands on his lap.
“Elladan,” he whispered, on the verge of sobbing. He felt a coldness that was alien to one bearing Elven blood. Why was his brother not looking at him? Even at the height of one of their disagreements, Elladan had never failed to succour him when he was hurt or distressed. He became acutely aware of the throbbing in his most intimate of passages.
Suddenly, he was roughly hauled up to his feet. Elladan’s hands clutched at his robe, and pulled him so that his nose bumped against his brother’s. “Never, never, never speak of this! It did not happen! This could not have happened!” The last came out in a shout that seemed to echo across the rented room. A fell mood was upon the eldest son of Elrond, such that he looked fit to strike at his own twin.
“It is as you say, Elladan!” Elrohir cried. The hands released him, and he fell to the floor, now sobbing in truth and shaking violently.
After a few silent minutes, he felt Elladan bend down, and a hand was laid on his shoulder. Elrohir involuntarily cringed away from the touch, and if his head had not been buried in his hands he would have seen a look of pain pass his twin’s face.
“I- I am sorry, Elrohir,” the older twin said unsteadily. “I do not know what became of me.”
“It is no matter, brother,” the other replied, wiping his face with the sleeve of his robe. “You were distraught.” Yet in his heart he felt betrayed. Strangely, not by- what had passed between them- but rather his brother’s behaviour afterwards. For the first time in their relatively short lives, Elladan had failed him.
The brethren left the inn and the settlement but an hour later. Though Elrohir stated his forgiveness for the other twin’s behaviour, it seemed to Elladan that his brother was quicker in speech than in deed, for in the days after a shadow hovered over Elrohir’s spirit. The younger twin hid his discomfort in the saddle, but felt further betrayed when his twin did not realise his pain. Their bond allowed them to be aware of each other’s wellbeing, but for days after Elladan held himself separate, paying little attention to Elrohir other than what was apparent on the surface.
Yet after the waning and waxing of a moon, the Incident seemed behind them, and the twins were bantering with each other anew, though the elder never spoke of what took place that night, and the younger feared incurring such a wrath in his brother again.
But throughout his life, Elrohir would never forget the day he learned to fear his own brother.
See my Table of Prompts.