Author's notes: I always wanted to write a story featuring Amaris and Lórindol, two of my original characters. For new readers: in my universe,
Amaris is the older brother of Thranduil. He did not share his father's dislike for the High King, and died together with Gil-galad. Later he escaped from the Halls of Waiting. Or rather: Gil-galad escaped and dragged him along. As usual. (See "The Knave" and "Finding Námo" for the full story). Amaris had served as Gil-galad's advisor, and he still addresses the former king as "Sire".
Lórindol (called "Nonfindel") is the younger, more flamboyant brother of Glorfindel. He is an artist and has not the slightest interest in warfare, weapons or hunting. You could call him the Middle-earth version of a Hippie. More about his unusual life with Thranduil in Mirkwood can be found in "Painting the woods red".
IT ONLY HURTS THE FIRST TIME
It was not easy to find a place to sit in Nonfindel's studio, but Gil-galad, never one to fret over such banal things, simply put a stack of sketches aside and sat down opposite the very nervous artist. He knew why Glorfindel's more flamboyant brother had invited him, and he was mentally rubbing his hands in glee.
"And... did it hurt much?" Nonfindel asked, and bit his lip.
"Terribly so! A pain so horrible that I could hardly bear it! Worse than my death, in fact!"
Gil-galad spotted a chalice with wine. He took it, sniffed to make sure the content was really wine and not red paint, then moved a little closer and lowered his voice.
"You know, Master Lórindol - Sauron grabbed me, set me on fire and that was it. Gil-galad, the Elven meteor. One moment of 'ouch!', and it was over. But this here... quite a different kettle of fish, my friend!"
Lórindol of Gondolin, called "Nonfindel", paled and wrapped one of his bangs nervously around his finger.
"Did it take long?" he asked, and Gil-galad noticed with no small satisfaction how Nonfindel's voice trembled. This was just too much fun!
"Hours! Hours, my friend! The pain! The blood! I have no words to describe it!"
He sighed dramatically and pushed his chalice from left to right. "But it was well worth it. Ah, the things we do for love... but do not worry, Master Lórindol, you will bear it like a warrior, I have no doubt!"
"But I am no warrior! I am an artist! Warriors are... so warrior-like! You know, all this 'a real Elf knows no pain' nonsense, ridiculous male bonding rites and secret handshakes. I know I will scream like a lady in labour, embarrass myself in front of all of Mirkwood, and Thranduil will have that special facial expression."
"What expression? The grumpy, the very grumpy or the extraordinarily grumpy one?" Gil-galad enquired. Nonfindel rolled his eyes.
"No, the 'dear Valar, what on Arda has driven me to fall in love with this dastardly creature?' expression. The one he has when I run away from spiders."
Gil-galad knew the facial expression Nonfindel was talking about. Amaris made the same face when Gil-galad asked him to remove a spider from the bathing chamber, though this was, of course, nothing he would share with Nonfindel.
"Well, you wanted him, and now you have him. Being with His Royal Highness, Thranduil the Exceptional and Impressive, Most Splendid and Feared Ruler of Mirkwood, King by the Valar's Grace, Ruler of 2000 Years, Shining Star of Greenwood The Green, Fairest of all Elven Lords, Light of the Dark Ages, Son of Oropher the magnificent, etc. etc. etc. does come with certain responsibilities. This here is one of them, and if you want to belong to the family, then - well, then you will have to go through with this."
Gil-galad slapped Nonfindel's shoulder, and the blond Elf winced.
"Just get it over and done with, my friend! Amaris is a master in this art, very skilled, and he will not spill more blood or cause you more pain than absolutely necessary!"
Nonfindel swallowed hard, and when the door opened and Amaris entered, greeting him with a cheerful, "Ready for being butchered?" he jumped up and retreated to the other end of the table.
"No! Absolutely not! This is brutal and barbaric, and I will not do it!" he shrieked.
Amaris stared at him with a very puzzled expression on his face.
"Now what is this? When we discussed it yesterday, you were most enthusiastic. How come you changed your mind?"
Amaris looked from Nonfindel to Gil-galad, and the silver coin dropped. He crossed his arms over his chest and tapped his left foot.
"Consider this a rhetorical question - it was you, was it not? What did you tell him, Sire?"
Gil-galad lifted his hands in defence. "I have not told him anything, beloved! Only the truth!"
"The truth, aha - with some little extras, I suppose?"
The former high king of the Noldor was all insulted innocence, and he turned his back on Amaris.
"If this is what you think of me, very well. Now see how you will get him into the healing chamber without my help."
"I am most positive that no help from your part will be needed, Sire," Amaris snorted, then turned to Nonfindel.
"Do not listen to him, Master Lórindol. While not completely painless, the procedure is not the torture his obnoxious former majesty here has painted it out to be. Please follow me so we can finish before the sun goes down."
"Before the sun goes down? It will be hours before the sun goes down! Do you want to torture me for hours?" Nonfindel cried. When Amaris took a step in his direction, he grabbed the nearest chair and held it in front of him in protection.
"Do not come near me!"
"Master Lórindol... Nonfindel... please calm yourself..." Amaris began, but Nonfindel threw the chair away and quickly slipped under the table.
Amaris was at the end of his tether.
"Nonfindel! Will you stay put now, please? Or do I have to ask Gil to fetch a rope and tie you to the chair?"
A snarl and a growl could be heard from under the table. Amaris sighed.
"Very well then, Nonfindel. You asked for it. Sire - your turn."
"Aaaah... now you need my help again, do you?" Gil-galad grinned. "Say 'please' and I will help you."
Amaris rolled his eyes. "Would you please help to fix what you have broken?"
Gil-galad shrugged. "You could do better, but I am in a good mood today and will not ask you to grovel at my feet. I shall deliver him to the healing chamber wrapped up like a gift."
He approached the table. Another growl, and then Nonfindel's hand became visible, holding a green bottle.
"I am warning you!" he cried, and waved the bottle fervently. "I have a bottle of turpentine, and I am willing to use it!"
"How good it is to finally see one of Gondolin's great warriors in action," Gil-galad mocked. "We all cower in fear of the ferocious Nonfindel and his deadly turpentine bottle!"
Amaris crouched down beside the table and carefully lifted the table cloth.
"Nonfindel. This means a lot to Thranduil. It also means a lot to me and Legolas. We have welcomed you into our hearts, and now we would love to welcome you officially into our family. Do you really think Thranduil would be happy about something which could hurt you? He would rather cut his own heart out than see you in pain. So please, Nonfindel - do it for Thranduil."
For a moment there was silence, then Nonfindel crawled slowly out from under the table. He got up and brushed the dust off his working robe.
"Very well, I shall do it, but only because I know that it will make Thranduil happy."
He looked suspiciously at Amaris, who had opened the door to the healing chamber next to Nonfindel's studio and beckoned to him. Nonfindel put the turpentine bottle carefully back on the table, but grabbed a large paintbrush instead.
"Now what do you need that thing for?" Amaris asked, rather puzzled.
"I feel safer when I am armed," Nonfindel replied, and marched, head held high, past Amaris and into the healing chamber.
Gil-galad rolled his eyes, and Amaris poked his tongue out at his lover in a most unroyal way.
* * *
"Does it hurt much?" Thranduil asked worriedly, and gently pushed a strand of blond hair out of Nonfindel's face.
"Not really," Nonfindel answered. "It was not at all the way I had imagined it to be. I have had bee stings that hurt more than this. As a matter of fact, I found it quite... stimulating."
"It is beautiful." Thranduil had straddled Nonfindel's thighs and admired the intricate pattern of leaves and vines that meandered from one of Nonfindel's shoulders to the other. "Amaris is a true artist with the needle. Now you carry the sign of my house on your skin, for all of Mirkwood to see that your place is by my side."
Nonfindel shifted.
"I am glad that you like it, but I still think you could just exchange rings here in Mirkwood, the same way everybody else does. Or matching bracelets."
Thranduil bent down and kissed Nonfindel's neck, careful not to touch the newly adorned skin, which was still sore.
"We have not forgotten that we are forest spirits, one with the trees, the ground and the air, and one with each other. This is why we adorn our skin, as a sign on the outside of the commitment to our family that we have made in our hearts."
"I had no idea you could be such a poet, Thranduil." Nonfindel's muffled voice could barely be heard, for he had his face buried in a cushion. Now he turned his head and looked at Thranduil.
"Do you not think that I deserve some tender, loving care after my ordeal?" he asked, and batted his lashes. "My courage should be rewarded."
Thranduil pushed Nonfindel's hair aside and slowly licked the sensitive skin behind the ear, which made Nonfindel moan. Then he stopped and did not move any more.
"And? Was that all?" Nonfindel asked, and looked disappointed.
"For the tattoo? Yes. It is only a small one; if you had all of your back adorned, then you would have earned yourself a full-body massage."
Nonfindel frowned.
"On the other hand... is it true that you threatened Gil-galad with a bottle of turpentine?" Thranduil asked, and Nonfindel blushed.
"Almost... in a way... yes, I fear I did. I am sorry."
"Do not be," Thranduil said to his contrite lover. "For this alone you have earned yourself a night of passion and indescribable pleasure."
Nonfindel purred when Thranduil began to caress his skin and kiss his way down Nonfindel's spine.
"Thranduil, what would have been my reward if I had actually smashed the bottle on his head?" he asked.
Thranduil, who had been busy slipping his lover's sleeping pants over the narrow hips, halted his actions.
"If you had done that, beloved pain in the neck of mine, I would have performed the Mirkwood Love Secret positions 34 to 57 on you. Without a break."
"Including the one with the feather duster?" Nonfindel asked excitedly.
"Indeed," Thranduil nodded, and slipped the sleeping pants down Nonfindel's legs, admiring the now unrestricted view of his lover's nicely shaped backside. "The one with the feather duster, the one with the honey and the one with the apples."
"Mmmmm..." Nonfindel purred, "I like the one with the apples. I guess I can still hit Gil-galad tomorrow."
"Splendid idea. And now be quiet, I have to concentrate on the task at hand. I like apples too, as you know, and I would like to take a bite now."
* * *
"Do not be silly, Amaris, and come to bed," Gil-galad begged, but Amaris, who had bedded down on the sofa, curled up and only showed him his rather expressionless backside.
"To Mordor I will! Your behaviour today has been despicable, Sire! Scaring poor Nonfindel out of his wits! There is no way I will sleep in the same bed with you!"
Gil-galad, who was not pleased at all with the prospect of having to spend the cold night alone in the large bed, sat up.
"Now look, I told you that I was sorry."
"Yes, you did, but you are not! Not in the least! You enjoyed it far too much to be sorry!" Amaris snapped, and pulled the cover he had previously snatched from the bed even higher up. Only the top of his head and the tip of his ear could be seen. Ah, nobody had ears as lovely as Amaris, Gil-galad thought, and how he would love to nibble on them now. But no, Amaris had to be difficult again.
"Amaris, you are exaggerating. I really do not know what you are so upset about, I only..."
"I will show you what I am upset about," Amaris hissed, then threw the cover off and stomped over to the large bed.
"Here, this is what I am talking about!"
He grabbed Gil-galad's arm and pointed at the tattoo on his shoulder. It showed a rose. A tiny rose. A very tiny rose. As a matter of fact, one could have mistaken the tattoo for a large mole if one could not see it close up.
Amaris poked Gil-galad's chest with his index finger.
"Hours of pain, yes? Blood puddles everywhere, am I correct? Oh how you suffered! But you took it like the great warrior you are, now, did you not...? You should be ashamed, Ereinion Gil-galad!"
Gil-galad looked a little guilty. But really only a little.
"Fine, you are right. It took you only ten minutes to make this adornment, it did not hurt at all and I hardly noticed anything. Are you feeling better now? Will you be reasonable now and come to bed? I have cold feet and need somebody to warm them."
Amaris sighed.
"The Valar only know what crimes I must have committed in a former life to deserve spending eternity with an oaf like you, Sire."
"Terrible, terrible crimes, my dear Amaris. Knowing you, it would not surprise me in the least if you had stepped on daisies, used your brother's toothbrush or forgotten to hug a tree every day. Evil deeds, and you had better start making amends now."
Gil-galad lifted the bed cover invitingly and wiggled his eyebrows. Amaris, who had begun to get cold feet as well, fought with himself. Finally, the cold and the sight of Gil-galad's naked body tipped the scales, and he slipped in the bed, where Gil-galad immediately pulled him close.
"The only one who has to make amends here is you, Sire," Amaris growled.
"Amends with Nonfindel? Well, if you think this is the right thing to do... though I do not think Thranduil would welcome it if he found me in his bed."
Amaris slapped his shoulder.
"Amends with me, Sire!"
Before Amaris could say another word, Gil-galad had flipped him over and covered him with his large body.
"You have that special look in your eyes, Sire," Amaris said, and arched an eyebrow. "Is it the 'Amaris will not be able to sit for three days' look?"
Gil-galad nodded.
"Indeed. It is also the 'Amaris will scream so loudly that His Royal Highness, Thranduil the Exceptional and Impressive, Most Splendid and Feared Ruler of Mirkwood, King by the Valar's Grace, Ruler of 2000 Years, Shining Star of Greenwood The Green, Fairest of all Elven Lords, Light of the Dark Ages, Son of Oropher the magnificent, etc. etc. etc., will fall out of his bed and call his guards to search for a Nazgűl' look."
Amaris buried his hands in Gil's hair and pulled him down, kissing him hard. Gil returned the favour. Then he kissed his way down Amaris' chest, with a short stopover at his lover's nipples. While the sounds this elicited from Amaris were not of Nazgűl quality, Gil-galad was happy with the performance. And he had not even reached the navel yet!
He pressed a kiss on that special spot under Amaris' navel, when he felt his lover's hand fist in his hair.
"Will you apologise to Nonfindel tomorrow or not, Sire? And before you reply: consider that your answer will determine the outcome of this night."
Gil-galad rested his cheek on Amaris' hipbone, and drew gently circles on the soft skin.
"Very well then. I will apologise. You are right: I blew it."
"Indeed you did, Sire, and you know what?"
Amaris let go of Gil-galad's hair and stretched sensually, bucking his hips. Gil-galad looked up.
"No, what?"
Amaris smiled, and Gil-galad thought that it was a very wicked smile.
"I want you to do it again, Sire."
* * *
The End
* * *
Author's notes: I have various tattoos. And some did indeed take hours to make. Nothing gets more on my nerves than some macho guys boring me out of my head with stories about their wee tattoos, the pain they endured and the gallons of blood they lost. Whiners!