Muscles drawn taut, the tawny skin of his bare limbs and chest shiny with sweat, Táro slowly drew one dagger in a line through the air in front of him; the other was held at an angle poised for a strike. He moved with the grace and skill of a dancer. His white-blond hair was pulled back from his face in a single thick braid, his lean angular face betrayed no expression, the long scar along his temple pulsed.
Legolas held his blades ready and watched his teacher, waiting for the attack which he knew from experience would come unexpectedly and with lightning speed. The prince noticed that a glistening drop of sweat snaked down the weapons master's stomach and disappeared into his loin cloth. Legolas shifted his weight to the balls of his feet.
Then it came, the sudden rush that always left him breathless, followed by the ringing contact of their blades. They pushed iron against iron, matching strength, each waiting for the opening, the slight imbalance that would give advantage. Legolas looked into the fierce blue eyes of his teacher. Their bodies were so close, Legolas could hear his breathing, smell his rich, earthy smell. His beauty was savage.
"Legolas," he said suddenly, "Focus!" Táro flung the younger elf backward and Legolas caught himself and turned, just as Táro sliced a singing blade inches from his chest. "If I had been the enemy, you might be maimed or dead," Táro said. "Come at me again."
Legolas bent over, breathing hard. "Táro, we've been at this all afternoon. Don't you think a respite is in order?"
"A respite, Prince Legolas?" Táro circled around him, a sardonic smile on his beautiful face. "Have I worn you out then? You are much younger than I. I should be the tired one." He sheathed his knives and moved close, his bare feet thudding on the wooden floor.
"Ha, I've never seen you tired," Legolas said. "Why are you working me so hard? You'd think we were at war."
"Your father has said nothing to you?" Táro said.
Legolas shook his head.
"Then I think I won't for now. Suffice it to say that Thranduil has heard some things."
He gripped Legolas's biceps, then slid his hands across his pectorals and down his abdomen, casually, as if assessing a racehorse. "It's not hurting you any. You're in much better shape than you were a couple of months ago." He cocked his head. "It looks good on you. You'll have all the elf maidens swooning. Not that they aren't already."
Táro walked across the practice room and grabbed two towels from a rack. He returned, throwing one to Legolas, and wiping his own face with the other.
Three months earlier, King Thranduil had ordered Táro, the captain of his guard, to train both Legolas's older brother and him in the art of combat. Legolas thought he didn't have anything more to learn when the weapons master had first begun his training, and was irritated that his father thought he did. It had taken one session with Táro to show the prince the depth of his misconception. They had trained every day since then with every kind of weapon, as well as hand to hand combat. The sessions had left Legolas sore but exhilarated. The prince found the older elf fascinating, his presence, his touch, thrilling in a strange way that he had never experienced before.
"Are we done?" asked Legolas as he set down his knives and mopped his face. "There might be an elf maiden waiting, as you said." He laughed.
Táro studied him. "No. Today, we are going to learn something different, I think," he said. "I notice that you are still too wary of the knives."
"Shouldn't I be?" Legolas laughed. "Here's where you cut me last week." He indicated the thin scab along his upper arm.
"You didn't move quickly enough and if you had been just a little slower, I'd have cut you deeper, given you a scar." Táro's lips curled.
Legolas looked again at the long white mark on Táro's temple. It gave the weapons master distinction and the prince thought that he wouldn't mind getting a scar or two himself.
"You enjoy this too much," said Legolas.
A sly smile crossed Táro's face. "You don't know what I enjoy, son of Thranduil. I just want to impress upon you how serious this is. You've led far too easy a life until now. My task is to toughen you up."
"I will tell my father you haven't been remiss. What is this lesson?"
"The line between pleasure and pain."
"I'm not sure I like the sound of that."
"Oh, but you will," Táro promised. He strode over to the practice room door and slid the bolt shut, then he went to a cabinet and pulled out a bottle of oil. "Take off your loincloth," he said, without even looking at Legolas.
"Now!" Táro barked.
Legolas bent down and undid the knots in his loincloth and let it slip to the ground. He stood completely naked and feeling shy, but at the same time aroused. He hoped he wouldn't embarrass himself before his teacher and wondered why he needed to be unclothed. What had the elf said, the line between pleasure and pain? This did not bode well.
Táro returned, cast his eyes over him, poured the heavy liquid into his hands, rubbed them together, and then poured another handful. He moved behind Legolas and began rubbing the oil over the prince's shoulders and neck, down his back, over his buttocks. His long, even strokes felt good to sore muscles and Legolas found himself leaning into Táro's strong hands.
"Good, you are relaxing," Táro said. He moved over to Legolas's front, kneading his chest and down his loins. He gently brushed against Legolas's member, causing the prince to jump.
"You must control that reflex, Prince. In a short while, it could lead to unpleasant results."
"What are you going to do, Táro?"
"Didn't your father teach you that patience is a virtue?"
Legolas smiled. "My father may teach that, but he rarely models it. They say I take after him."
Táro laughed. He wiped his hands on the towel and then unrolled a cloth bundle, revealing a set of knives of different sizes and shapes. Legolas looked on, his anxiety increasing as Táro selected one of the knives with a smooth wooden handle and tested it by sliding the blade along his arm.
He approached Legolas slowly, "It will go better if you lean up against the wall," he said.
Like a striking snake, Táro shoved Legolas on the chest, slamming him to the wall. Stunned, Legolas hardly had time to think before the weapons master pressed his entire body against his.
"You will obey immediately and without hesitation. Do you understand?" Táro said.
Legolas nodded, the blood rushing to his face and groin. Táro's body was warm and fragrant. His loincloth-covered hips pressed against the prince, moving ever so slightly. He could feel Táro's shaft through it, rubbing against his. Legolas's cock twitched. Gods, he thought. What does he mean by this? Is he seducing me? Should I let him? The thought excited and unnerved him.
"You are too proud, my prince. You lack discipline. A warrior must be humble. Must accept orders." The weapons master stepped back and brought the knife before his face, turning it so that the well-honed blade glittered in the light that came in through the tunneled windows high above in the cave roof.
"This exercise is called, ‘Warrior's Caress,'" Taro continued. "It will help you learn control. Do not move or jump or the blade will bite your flesh. Don't look so alarmed." A smile flickered across his face. "You may ask me to stop if the exercise becomes too uncomfortable. If you are unable to bear it any longer."
Legolas nodded, scarcely breathing. His heart thumped as Táro held the knife at an angle and began scraping it over his shoulder in long, feathery strokes. "There is a fine line separating pain and pleasure," the elf continued. "You have more control over this than you think. Your mind can move the line from one side of the threshold to the other."
He moved down over Legolas's pectorals. Suddenly the weapons master pinched his right nipple hard. The prince yelped and jumped, immediately feeling a shock of pain dart through his upper chest. He looked down and saw a tiny line of blood blossoming just above his left nipple. Táro continued working the knife as if nothing had happened. The prince felt his legs begin to tremble.
"Does it hurt?" the weapons master continued.
"No," Legolas said, although he still felt the sting.
Táro grabbed his nipple and twisted it again.
"Ow," Legolas cried, but this time he didn't move.
"Don't lie to me, Prince. Did that hurt?"
"Valar, yes, Táro."
"That's better. Focus on the pain. Relax into it. Make it your friend."
Legolas could feel throbbing along the wound and slowly he brightened the sensation and the burning became less troublesome.
"That's right," Táro said as he scraped the blade down over the prince's sides, across his rippling abdominal muscles, down his loins. As his teacher moved lower, Legolas could feel himself harden.
"Táro, I . . ." Legolas began as the weapons master drew the blade up alongside his balls, his face inches from Legolas's cock.
"Are you asking me to stop?" Táro glanced up at him with a slight smile. "Because I will if you can't take it."
The prince trembled with the strain of keeping perfectly still and he was acutely aware of his burning skin where the blade had burnished it. The weapons master's breath whispered past his member. It was quite erotic, and to his horror, his shaft moved slowly upward as if it had a will of its own.
Legolas felt his face turning red. "It's just that I . . . I can't help my body's reaction."
Táro looked at the prince's cock and then up at him. "The natural reaction of a true warrior, for whom the blade excites passion," he said. "I thought this is how you would respond." Then his voice became softer. "Legolas," he said, "you are magnificent. Will you let me teach you pleasure as well as pain?"
"Pleasure?" Legolas said, his voice unsteady. "What do you mean?"
"I think you know, my lovely." With one hand, Táro began caressing the prince's inner thighs. The other continued moving the knife. He stroked his hand over Legolas's balls, then cupped them, and the prince let out a gasp. He was now almost fully erect.
"Táro, I have never. . .," the prince began.
"Been with a male before?" asked the weapons master.
"And does this trouble you, because I will stop if it does."
Legolas paused and took a breath. "No," he finally said.
Táro continued moving the knife along his thighs, as he wrapped his hand around Legolas's cock and began stroking it slowly. Legolas watched, fascinated. It felt too good.
He had become quite hard when the weapons master leaned over and took Legolas's cock in his mouth, swirling his tongue over the head and then engulfing it completely. The prince inhaled sharply and pressed back against the wall.
Táro came off him. "Do you like that?"
"Yes," Legolas breathed.
"Keep still. I have the knife on you," Táro said. He lipped Legolas's cock, biting along the length gently before taking it completely back into his mouth and moving on him up and down, his tongue caressing him.
Legolas was in ecstasy. The presence of the knife pressed up against his thigh increased the feeling of dangerous excitement. He moaned and Táro's pace increased until the prince felt the tension mounting toward fulfillment. He arched his hips forward, tightened his legs, reached down to steady himself on Táro's shoulders, and suddenly erupted with a sharp cry into the weapons master's mouth.
He felt Táro swallow and continue gently mouthing him as pleasure flowed through the prince's groin. Finally, the weapons master released him, set down the knife and stood, sliding the length of his body against the prince as he did so. Legolas sighed.
"Did you like that?" Táro said, nuzzling the prince's neck.
"Gods forgive me, yes," said Legolas, rubbing his hips against his teacher.
"Do you want more?"
"The lesson is not over, yet, my lovely one," said Táro. He pressed his lips to the prince's. As Legolas slowly responded, Táro kissed him harder, then opened his mouth. Legolas felt his warm tongue brush his. His mouth had a sweet, salty taste. Legolas closed his eyes and surrendered.
"That's it," Táro said. "Give yourself over to me." The weapons master reached down and palmed the prince's softened shaft in a gentle caress. "Did you know, my prince, that I have wanted this for months now? You are very beautiful. I denied my feelings until I sensed that you wanted it too, although you didn't know it consciously. Are you sorry?"
"No," Legolas breathed. "I still don't believe this is happening."
"Trust me now," Táro said. "Remember you can control the line between pain and pleasure. Kneel down on the mat, on your hands and knees."
Legolas crouched down, looked over his shoulder, and watched Táro untie the knots on his loincloth and allow it to slither to the floor. His arousal was very evident. Legolas's eyes widened as the weapons master poured more oil on his hand and began stroking himself with a long, twisting motion. He knelt next to Legolas, poured more oil over his rear, and the prince shivered as he felt it trickling down into his crack. A finger worked its way to his opening, pushing into him, then slowly swirling about. It tingled pleasantly. Legolas felt him insert two fingers, which burned him. He ground his teeth together.
"You are tense. Relax completely," Táro said. "There is no better way to do this than all at once."
The weapons master straddled his rear. It seemed as if another finger, larger and blunt, was nudging at his opening. Oh gods, the prince thought and held his breath as Táro's long, slick shaft impaled him in one hard motion. The pain was intense. He cried out and made an effort to squirm away from it, but Táro gripped him about the chest with both arms.
"I know it hurts, now," he said. "Relax into it, embrace it. Move it into pleasure."
"Uh, I can't," Legolas cried. "By Mandos, it burns!"
Táro shifted and pulled out part way and then pushed into him again. "Are you a warrior? Hardened to pain from blows and cold iron? Think away the pain. Here's something to help you."
He thrust into him again and suddenly Legolas felt a jolt of delight. He moaned, in pleasure this time.
"Ah, did that one hit you right?" Táro asked. "Try this." Again the honeyed wave coursed through him and the pain began to shift away.
"Yes, better, Táro."
"Do you want more?"
"Yes," Legolas groaned, "Valar, yes!"
The weapons master began moving in a steady rhythm that built in speed and intensity, each time he sheathed himself completely sent another delicious ripple through the prince. Legolas felt himself harden again as the pleasure spread throughout his hips. Táro reached around and took Legolas's cock in his hand and began stroking him.
"Uhhhhh," the prince cried as shortly afterward he came for the second time in hot spurts of pleasure. Táro rammed into him even harder and then emitted a loud groan, the first sound of enjoyment Legolas had heard him utter. He moved a few more strokes, stopped, held still a while, then pulled out. Legolas collapsed on the mat and Táro lay down next to him, caressing his back.
"Was that so bad, now?" Táro asked, as Legolas stared into his sky blue eyes.
Legolas smiled. He shyly reached around and grasped his teacher by the waist. "I don't think I quite mastered that lesson," he said, then laughed at the quizzical look on Táro's face. "I think I need a lot more practice."
Táro laughed at that and leaned forward to kiss him.
In the month that followed, Legolas and Táro continued the weapons training with a new intensity, often going to a secluded glade to practice. Afterwards the weapons master would lie with the prince, teaching him the way of passion.
One morning after a particularly vigorous coupling, Legolas lay with his head on Táro's naked chest looking at the branches sighing overhead and the movement of the dappled light across their bodies. The weapons master softly stroked Legolas's hair away from his face.
"Táro," Legolas said.
"Yes, my lovely."
"Do you . . . do you *care* for me?"
"Of course I do."
"No, I mean really care." Legolas sat up and looked into his teacher's eyes. "I need to know."
"It is not my place to fall in love with the son of my king," said Táro, looking away.
"Táro, I command you to answer my question!" the prince said harshly.
The weapons master turned back and looked deeply into the eyes of his charge. "I didn't ask for this to happen," he said, "but I do care for you, very much."
"Do you love me?"
"You must be more guarded, Legolas. Such love is not for the likes of you and I. And I wouldn't want you to get hurt," said Táro. He smiled grimly. "I know from experience that wounds to the heart take a longer time to heal than those of the flesh."
"I just know that being with you makes me happy," Legolas said.
They heard a sound far off in the undergrowth. A sharp snap of a twig.
"Who's there?" Táro called, sitting up and straining to listen. Legolas could hear naught but the tearing whistle of a hawk calling high above him.
Two days later, Táro arrived at practice time accompanied by another of Thranduil's guards. The weapons master had a strained look on his face, though he smiled at Legolas when he saw him.
"There's to be no practice today, mellon nîn," he said, "nor the day after."
"Why not?" Legolas said. He glanced coldly at Thrin, who stood with him. "Thrin, you have my leave to go," he said.
"I'm here at your father's orders," the guard said uncomfortably.
"Then you will keep your mouth shut at *my* orders," said Legolas and he moved to embrace Táro. The weapons master stepped back.
"Forgive me, Prince. The king is sending me to Lothlórien to train some of Celeborn's warriors."
"When do you leave?"
"Immediately," said Táro.
"When will you return?" Legolas asked in despair.
"Unknown, at present," said Táro.
"He found out, didn't he!" cried Legolas.
Táro glanced at Thrin. "I have been reminded of my station and duties," Táro said.
"I will go talk to him. I'll tell him my training isn't complete. You have more to teach me."
"Undoubtedly I do," Táro said with a slight smile. "But there is nothing I can change about this."
"No, you can't do this," Legolas cried and punched the weapons master hard in the chest. Táro caught his hands before he could bring another blow.
"I'm sorry, my Prince. I'll see you again. Don't forget what you've learned."
"Never," said Legolas. Táro gave him a quick embrace and moved to pull away but Legolas grasped him hard.
"Remember the line between pain and pleasure," said Táro. "Time to redraw it now." He bent forward and kissed him, then pushed out of Legolas's grasp and held the prince by the forearms. "You've been a superb pupil. One of my best." He smiled and then turned on his heel and left.
Thrin gave Legolas an apologetic glance and followed him.
Legolas watched him go and exploded with rage. Where was his father now? By the gods, he'd tell him what he thought about this. He raced through the twisting corridors of the palace. Outside the study door, he ran into Talagan, his father's seneschal.
"Where is the king?" he demanded.
"Here, in the study. He says not to be disturbed. What do you wish?"
"Did you know that he sent Táro to Lothlórien?"
"Yes," Talagan said carefully.
"Why would he do such a thing? I was getting better at combat than I've ever been," Legolas said.
"Legolas, did you often practice in a dell in the woods?" the seneschal asked.
"Yes, in good weather."
"It is possible that someone observed Táro's training methods, reported them to your father, and he found them not to his liking."
"Who did that? Was it you?" Legolas made a fist.
Talagan stepped back. "No," he said. "But if I were you, I would let it rest."
"I can't," Legolas shouted, opening the study door and closing it behind him with a bang. In short order, Talagan heard raised voices. He sighed.
A messenger approached and bowed. "Seneschal, King Náin II has arrived with a delegation of dwarves."
From the next room the sound of angry voices grew louder and then there was a crash of breaking glass. The messenger turned his head inquisitively.
"Um. I'll tell the king . . . later," Talagan said.
mellon nîn - my friend
This is a work of fan fiction, written because the author has an abiding love for the works of J R R Tolkien. The characters, settings, places, and languages used in this work are the property of the Tolkien Estate, Tolkien Enterprises, and possibly New Line Cinema, except for certain original characters who belong to the author of the said work. The author will not receive any money or other remuneration for presenting the work on this archive site. The work is the intellectual property of the author, is available solely for the enjoyment of Henneth Annûn Story Archive readers, and may not be copied or redistributed by any means without the explicit written consent of the author.