Haldir and Legolas stood under the canopy of the trees in heated discussion. The talan was small, but adequate. In truth, Frodo found it rather pokey. It was barely big enough for the three of them. Lorien’s sweet evening belied the danger of the world beyond the borders, and he was glad to be off the ground.

Legolas sighed, “Separating Sam and Frodo is not wise.”

“Frodo will be fine.” Haldir tried to reassure him, “Sam need not worry. In my talan, he is safe for the night.”

“But . . .”

He lifted a hand to stay the prince’s next rebuttal, “They can not be housed on the ground, Legolas of Mirkwood,” Haldir spoke. “I insist they be within the talans,” his eyes went to the woods around them… “Something approaches that means them harm.”

“I feel it also,” Legolas was forced to agree. “It is a presence that has shadowed our steps for many days, but I do not think it wise to separate the hobbits. Sam and Frodo are very close.”

The Marchwarden shook his head, “Our guard flets are not as large as those in Caras Galadhon, and they are only big enough for one. Separating them is unavoidable,” Haldir explained.

Legolas nodded. “Very well. Frodo, stay here and sleep.” Legolas saw him nod in reply and he and Haldir descended to the ground, leaving the Halfling alone.

Frodo was tired, it was true, but the weariness was more to do with their loss than of having been on his feet for more hours than he could count. A moment later he saw hobbits on a nearby flet and they waved to each other before disappearing into other talans.

Haldir left Legolas and Gimli talking at the base of a nearby tree and climbed up to speak to Frodo. He was intrigued… these tiny creatures were no bigger than the size of a five year-old elf. What could Elrond have possibly been thinking? Obviously there was more to a hobbit than its height. Haldir lowered himself to the floor, cross-legged and regarded Frodo where he sat gazing out at the starry sky just visible through the leafy canopy above his head. The night was warm, almost spring-like, unlike the chill of the winter beyond the boarders of Lorien.

“Am I correct in saying that a hobbit lives only one hundred years?” Haldir asked.

“Yes,” Frodo replied. “Although some live for longer. My uncle is one hundred and twenty-eight years old, but he is an exception.”

“How old are you?”

“I am fifty.”

Haldir considered this. “I am two thousand years old, so your lifespan is inconceivably short to me. In elf terms you are barely an adult. I am unsure how to understand why Lord Elrond would choose such a young being to carry the burden of the world.”

“That would make two of us,” the corners of Frodo’s mouth tugging upward for want of a grin. “Nevertheless, I volunteered.”

Haldir’s eyes regarded him, unusual eyes as they were. They were brown. “Why did you volunteer? Do you not know the dangers you will face? Of course not,” he answered his own question. “I fail to see what one so young could possibly have learned in so short a life.”

Now Frodo was grinning. “Master Elf,” he said. “I may be young, but I am no child.” He stood up and crossed to where the elf sat, “A hobbit learns many skills very quickly.” Frodo plunked himself down in front of him.

Haldir flinched with the close proximity, he didn’t know why, he just did. He did not like being cornered like this… on the other hand there was a secret thrill at being held in the gaze of one who seemed so small and young with eyes wise beyond his years.

“We know of growing things, plants from far and wide. We know of animals, where to find them, how to prepare and cook them. We know the sounds of the earth and sky. We know songs and music, as well as art and writing.” A slight smile graced his lips as he ran a pink tongue over them. “But best of all, we know pleasure.” The large eyes never left Haldir’s gaze, pinning him to his spot.

Haldir suppressed a shudder. “Pleasure?”

Frodo’s voice lowered to a mere thrum as he continued to speak, “yes, Master Elf…” letting his voice alone caress the elf’s perceptions. “Pleasure, bliss… How to feel it, give it and most importantly… how to enjoy it.” Frodo sat impassively watching the elf’s eyes grow wide and a shudder roll through him. He saw him swallow. “How could an elf know pleasure when his eyes only see forever, missing the minute moment? How can an elf endure the sweet agony of a moment in time, when the stars explode in his mind?”

That sounded like a challenge or statement of intention… Haldir stared at him, unable it seemed to look away. He swallowed again, captured like an animal in the swaying light of a hunter’s lantern. He head was now resting against the talan wall as a wave of something turned his insides to water. He knew he was supposed to say something, but all that came out was a moan.

“Would you like me to show you what real pleasure is?”

Haldir could only nod, his voice lost to the night, drowned in the musical notes of a hobbit’s sweet words. He was beguiled, and he was well aware of that fact but his desire was piqued. It had never been piqued before, not like this. He released a shuddering breath, feeling the tightness of his leggings. A hand drifted to his groin, swollen and aching, and rubbed a little.

Frodo reached out and lifted his hand away. “That is not pleasure, Master Elf. That is merely a quick fix. Let me show you real pleasure.”

“I am a dead elf,” Haldir whispered.

Frodo rose, smiling gently and beckoned… or was it indicated? … to the darkness beyond the small lamp’s light. From the shadows two small shapes emerged into the light of the moon. Haldir recognized them at once as Merry and Pippin, or at least he thought they were, their faces were in shadow. He was certain they were resting in a nearby talan, but obviously they were not.

Gathering some bravery, “it takes three hobbits together to be pleasurable?” Haldir asked.

“Not… usually,” a throaty chuckle escaped, “but for an elf it does,” Frodo told him.

Haldir raised his eyes to the hobbit, and blinked. It did?

“To truly enjoy the experience of pleasure, you must be… naked.” Haldir gulped, his hands flew to the buttons of his tunic. Frodo wrapped a small warm hand around Haldir’s to still it. “Not to fast, my friend. The pleasure begins with the unwrapping of the gift.”

Frodo pointed to a spot nearer the centre of the talan and Haldir slid forward to kneel there before the creature, spellbound. Frodo leaned in close, his eyes smouldering as he stared straight into the elf’s eyes. Haldir felt a touch burn into the flesh of his throat and a dull flick as the clasp of his cloak opened. The material whispered to the floor and Haldir shivered beneath the gaze. He leaned imperceptibly closer, and was rewarded with the touch of lips upon his own… they parted, the tip of his tongue touching Frodo’s and in return a tongue came out to dance with his.

Haldir moaned softly, his hands reached to hold the hobbit gently, wanting him closer.

Frodo drew his head up to press a finger to the elf’s lips. “Patience, Haldir,” he whispered and stepped back. With no visible or even verbal command, the other two hobbits took a place at each hip and began a sensual dance of fingertips on elven cloth.

Button after button was popped open, fingers trailing down the material like a hungry flame. Haldir’s eyes were locked on the tiny fingers as they slid down the front of his tunic. Two pairs of hands slipped beneath the silk and slowly slid it from his shoulders.

Haldir gasped as hot breath dusted passed an ear. Blue eyes met over his golden head and lips lowered to nibble his earlobes. Caressing and nipping at the edges, hands set to work on opening the buttons of his shirt. Haldir moaned softly, eyes drifting closed at the twin assault on his senses. Hot tongues dragged up the edge of his ears to the sensitive tip. Haldir gasped, a shuddering breath escaping his lips. Breaths blew gently into his auditory canals, almost as if each side was a mirror of the other.

“Does that feel good, Haldir?” Frodo asked, his voice like melted chocolate.

“Yes,” Haldir whispered breathily.

“Shall I go on, or shall I stop?”

“No,” he gasped, or at least tried. “Do not stop.”

Hot tiny hands slid up his sides under his shirt. Haldir’s mouth fell open, in a soundless sigh of delight. For a moment the mouths were gone from his ears as silk lifted and mouths lowered to his shoulders. Teeth grazed his collarbones from one end to the other in a slow methodical pattern. Haldir swallowed a loud moan of delight, his arms raising to envelope the little beings. Beneath his touch they were shirtless.

Again Frodo lifted his voice across the distance. “Wait, Haldir,”

Haldir groaned with impatience, but it was lost beneath a sigh of pleasure. His hands dropped to rest on the talan floor at either side of him, supporting him. This raised his collarbones proud of his shoulders, and increased the sensations of their searching mouths.

Fingertips ran down his chest, swirling around his nipples while others caressed his back. Haldir struggled to breathe, gasping at the scorching tendrils that snaked across his skin. “I want to touch you,” he whimpered.

“You will,” said the far away voice of the Ring Bearer. “But you must be patient, for I have much to show you first. Close your eyes.”

Haldir’s thicken breath quivered in and out as he considered what else lay in store. He closed his eyes. Hands guided him back onto his cloak and lips followed the hairless contours of his chest. A tongue found the dip that was his navel and swirled around its edge. Haldir shuddered.

Hands were on him, so many it was hard to count them, swirling this way and that, followed by mouths, so many hot lips and tongues that his senses were sliding. Hands were now on his thighs as well as his chest, fingertips dragged up the back of his thighs to his buttocks, lightly tracing where they met before gently parting them at the base and sliding back down to his knees. He was lying on his back he was sure, at least he thought he was, but there seemed no part of him they could not reach easily, as if he floated by some magic.

A tongue was licking behind his knees, swirling pirouettes on the pleasure point before ascending to the top of his thigh. Then another tongue began and another, until his skin felt like it was smothered with hot, wet mouths.

In the hollow where hips met thighs tongues swirled, Haldir moaned loudly, parting his knees, begging their touch closer. “Let me see you, touch you. I want . . .” Panting he moaned loudly.

“Hush,” a whisper dusted his ear then lips pressed against his. All the while the tongues tormented and teased him. A tongue came out to play with his, twisting and cavorting together. He tipped his head back and gasped loudly as mouth descended on his member, taking him in deep and sliding back up.

Haldir’s breath caught as a tongue dipped into his slit before the mouth descended again. He reached out to run his fingers through the curled hobbit hair, but a hand captured his hand and placed it back beside him. “All in good time, Haldir,” Frodo told him.

Haldir groaned in frustration. “I want to touch you, please. Let me see you.”

His hips thrust upward… matching move for move, the mouth sliding faster and faster up and down his shaft. All the while the tongues continued, one finding a sensitive spot at the back of his balls.

Haldir jerked unable to hold on to his tightly held control, he growled low and thrust upward hard and fast. Suddenly the mouth was gone. Panting, the feelings subsided again. He was so close, and yet the hobbit seemed intent on prolonging the sweet agony.

Fingers were suddenly touching him again, one sliding into his private places, moving slowly in and out. Haldir moaned sweetly. The heat was rising again as a second finger joined the first. Thrusting in and out, the tips reaching upward towards his G-spot. Frodo smiled. “You like this?”

“Yes," Haldir huffed breathily. “More . . .please.”

Suddenly, everything stopped, and one small body slid over him, although he was certain there was more then one hobbit in the talan with him. Haldir moaned thickly, his breath huffing, his shaft erect and straining. Almost before he knew it, he was being filled slowly, sweetly and completely, the hobbit almost withdrawing all the way before driving in deep.

Haldir arched up ward, wanting deeper, his gasps of passion dusting the air above him.

“You may touch me now,” Frodo whispered to his left.

Haldir reached out and found his member and grasped it in his hand, matching every move.

“And me,” Frodo’s voice said to his right, but the voice did not so much register as the words that it spoke.

Haldir reached out with the other hand and grasped the hobbits shaft and stroked it. A hand was smoothing him hard and fast.

Haldir’s mouth opened, his breath gasping loudly into the air. “More . . .Fro . . .do . . .”

The thrusting increased, and Haldir shuddered, sweat shining on his skin and he groaned deeply. Suddenly his breath caught and he was over the edge, crying out long and loud into the night air.

Gimli looked up at the unseen talan far above him, a guttural cry of some animal coming to him ears. Plucking the pipe from his mouth he froze. “What was that?”

Legolas did not even look up. “Nothing,” he replied.

“What do you mean, ‘nothing’? Sounded like something being eaten to me.”

“Quite likely,” Legolas replied. “Go to sleep.”

Haldir opened his eyes as he gradually regained his breath. Frodo was sitting much as he had been all evening, the moonlight dusting him like a halo of silver. In the talan next to his… two hobbits lay sleeping. Looking down at himself, he noticed that he was fully dressed, and yet . . .

Haldir’s brows twitched with uncertainty. “Did I fall asleep?” Had he been dreaming?

Frodo turned his head and regarded him with an unreadable gaze. “You only just arrived, Captain Haldir. I do not know of any creature who falls asleep so swiftly.”

“Then, I must have had the most intense daydream of my entire life.” Frodo’s lips quirked upward slightly. Haldir was certain of it, until he looked again and the look was gone. “Either that or I have gone insane with the need for a wife . . .”

“You were not dreaming, but you have not been touched,” tilting his small head with an inscrutable smile, “not by hand anyway.”

Haldir’s gaze slowly lifted to meet Frodo’s and wondered what he meant. “What was I touched with?” he asked slowly.

As the morning birds announced the dawn Legolas watched Haldir descend from his flet, less than steady on his feet. He seemed drunk, if that were possible for an elf, but the joy in his eyes spoke not of drink but of love.

Gimli noted Legolas’ confusion and the other elf’s strange gait. He eyed Frodo, who was following the elf down, and the other three hobbits as they climbed down from their own flets to step onto solid ground, all of them looking well rested and happy. Too well rested, actually, which made him frown. “What have you been up to?” he growled. “And what have you done to that sour-pus Haldir?”

Legolas, beside him, swallowed the sudden urge to laugh out loud.

Frodo turned to him with a smirk. “My dear Gimli. The Valar gives teeth to those who have no nuts.” That only made Gimli scowl all the harder.

“We didn’t do anything to Haldir,” Merry said innocently, looking affronted. “We weren’t even in his talan to do anything to him.”

“Not a thing,” Pippin agreed, straight-faced. “Except that perhaps someone took a little starch out of him.”

Legolas’ pupils enlarged tenfold, knowing exactly what that meant for an elf. A slow smile of understanding curved his lips upward.

“Alright,” Gimli announced. “I am now officially lost.”

“Friend-Gimli, Haldir has now realized how bad a hobbit can be and how good at being bad they really are.”

Gimli looked up at him as Haldir and the hobbits walked away. “What are you talking about? Hobbits aren’t bad, a nuisance at times, maybe, but bad?”

“There are some things about a perianneth that you may be glad not to know,” Legolas smiled. He shuddered at a passing memory and followed the retreating group, his smile stuck resolutely to his face.

El fin

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