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The bonfire was huge, rising up in a column up into the night sky. Bard felt a little anxious just by looking at it. He was taught never to make big fires in the woods. However, he knew that right now he was safer than ever. This was the realm of the elves and their magic kept the flame in check.
Tonight was a special night. Summer Solstice was the most important celebration for the Mirkwood elves. Bard knew little of it, since the elves did not welcome the outsiders. When the night was young, he was worried he might be intruding. But now, as he was standing at the edge of the glade, surrounded by hundreds of elves, his hand in the hand of the Elven King, he was no longer a stranger. His belly was full with the best food and wine and his heart with music and laughter.
Countless wood elves gathered around the fire – eating, drinking, singing and dancing. Many of them wore wreaths of flowers and leaves. The colourful lights swirled around in a magical dance. It was a sight to behold.
But as always, Bard’s attention was often diverted to the magnificent presence next to him. Thranduil wore his beautiful sparkling robes, fiery orange fabric echoing the rising flames. On his head was the crown of leaves and in his hand a wooden staff. This was where he belonged. A king of the forest in his realm.
Bard had to remind himself to not stare too much. He was here as a guest to the festival and he had to be present. He turned back to the dancing elves intent on enjoying the night to the fullest.
There was a dozen or so smaller fires around the glade. The elves approached them and threw some kind of herbs into them. Soon the clearing was enveloped by sweet-scented smoke.
After some time, Bard noticed that the mood of the night has changed. Some of the elves danced in pairs, in a rather intimate way. Further, he noticed that after some of them joined hands and disappeared into the woods.
“Those herbs, are they…?”
“What?” asked Thranduil.
“My people say they are dangerous. That they cloud the mind.”
“We elves see things differently. We think they reveal things.”
“And what about those… couples?”
“The Solstice is a celebration of nature’s grace but for the Silvan elves it encompasses many traditions. It is believed to be very auspicious for two elves to find their mate on this night.”
“Oh, I see… And… when they meet them, they just know it’s them?”
“This is how it works, yes.”
“And what happens once they decide they found their mate?”
“They mate.”
Bard must have looked shocked but Thranduil was smirking.
“They…”
“Yes.”
Bard’s mind went blank as the elven king continued.
“The spilled seed brings life into the forest, helps it grow,” Thranduil added. “At least, such is their belief.”
The celebration seemed to reach its peak with songs getting louder and dozens of elves dancing around the fire in a circle. Suddenly, Bard felt his hand being tugged.
“Come,” said the king.
Still confused, Bard followed Thranduil, who made his way away from the glade and deeper into the forest. They moved slowly through the dark misty forest, the songs growing more and more distant. Thranduil tread lightly, as if he knew the forest by heart. Even his long regal robes did not seem to impede him. Meanwhile, Bard nearly tripped a few times but the firm grasp on his hand helped to keep him steady.
Bard could see very little but he could hear things. And those things sounded very sensual. They weren’t speech or laughter but heavy breathing and moans. Bard could feel his body starting to respond.
After some time, they walked into a small clearing at the edge of the cliff. There stood a tall mighty oak tree. The moon shone brightly, illuminating Thranduil in all his glory and Bard couldn’t take his eyes off him.
“It was but a sapling when I came here with my people.”
Bard could never really grasp living for thousands of years. But he couldn’t help but think how incredible it was that of all the living things Thranduil encountered, he was the one that captured his heart.
“I like to come here. To speak to the forest,” the elf king continued.
“The forest speaks?” Bard asked.
“If you know how to listen.”
Bard closed his eyes but all he could hear was rustling leaves and the night birds calling out.
“What does it say?” he asked.
“It is calm now. Quiet.”
“You are taking good care of it.”
“That is untrue. When the evil came, I fled North. I left it to the darkness to swallow.”
Bard’s heart fell. He wanted to reassure the king but instead he made him sad.
“You did what you had to do. One day you shall reclaim it. I know it. I might not live to see it but-”
“Don’t.” Thranduil pressed a finger to his mouth. His eyes bore sadness.
Bard cursed himself. He’s done it again. And on such a magical night too. Before he said anything else to hurt the one he loved, Bard took a step closer to press an apology to his lips.
There they kissed, their mouths locked in a gentle dance. Thranduil put his hands in Bard’s hair, a gesture he loved so much. The kiss was a spark that started a fire spreading slowly through his body.
He gently pressed Thranduil against the massive oak tree. His need was great but the king’s clothing and crown made it hard to touch him. Bard kissed his neck and nipped on his ear as his hands fumbled at the front of the king’s robes. He undid some of the latches but was met with more fabric. Thranduil’s outfit had a lot of volume and layers and getting to the skin underneath seemed like an unsurmountable task. Bard groaned in frustration. The elven king seemed amused by his effort.
Bard made a decision then. Today was not about him. He captured the smirk off the king’s lips, his hands focusing on undoing Thranduil’s pants. His hand slipped inside, finding the king’s length and freeing it.
“So persistent…”
Bard propped himself, pressing his hand next to the king’s head. With his other hand he proceeded to stroke him, drinking every moan that fell from Thranduil’s lips.
“You said that seed brings life into the forest,” Bard asked panting.
“Yes…” Thranduil breathed out.
“Then the seed of the king must be that much more valuable.”
Thranduil just moaned in reply clutching his shoulders.
Bard didn’t want to go too fast, not wanting it to end. In the dark, his senses sharpened, hearing every breath, feeling every touch and sensing the king’s enticing scent. The wind blew gently, making the leaves whisper, carrying the sounds of the king’s pleasure into the forest.
Sensing Thranduil was close, Bard shifted, slipping behind his lover, holding him close and proceeding to caress him. Soon the elven king shuddered, his seed spilling. Bard kept still, coaxing him, till every last drop fell into the tree’s roots.
For some time, there was only their labored breathing, melding with the sound of the forest.
“Should we go back?” Bard asked. As much as he loved the festivity, he did not wish to let go of this intimacy.
“I’m sure they can manage without me. I would rather return to my chambers. I think I have some pressing business to take care of,” Thranduil replied and Bard could hear his smirk.
Bard shuddered when the king stepped away from him. But then he felt Thranduil’s warm hand on his as he led the way. Bard was only happy to follow.