The Work of Thy Hands, Heart, and [REDACTED] by gaydhros  

My dearest friend,

I will get straight to the point: Prince Fingon has come to Himring. Again.

Can you believe that! I could hardly believe it myself even as I watched from my bedroom window, my face pressed to the glass. Yet there he was— fair and lovely upon his mighty steed, winding his way through the streets with his company trailing behind. Lord Maedhros awaited him at the fortress gates. Tall and fell and handsome was he, in that strange and terrifying way that is his wont, and from the grimness of his face one might think he had never smiled before, not once in his life. But oh, Taerinn, how I wish you could have seen how he smiled when Prince Fingon drew near (I curse your father each and every day for stealing you away to Thargelion)! It was as though his world had ceased its turning and there existed only Prince Fingon, and their love for one another.

Prince Fingon dismounted his steed (no doubt thinking as he did so that he longed to mount something else) and he embraced Lord Maedhros, right there in the courtyard. He is so much smaller than Lord Maedhros— for a moment he nearly disappeared inside the bulk of his cloak, save that their hair whipped together in the wind in a swirl of red and black. Lord Maedhros rested his hand low upon Prince Fingon’s back (lower than is proper, I deem, nearer to the small of the back than the shoulder blades). Even from a ways away and above I could descry the tension that simmered between them when they pulled back to regard one another, and the desire in Lord Maedhros’ eyes, the way his touch lingered overlong upon the Crown Prince’s shoulder before at last he let him go. No doubt the fell Lord of Himring was having the same thoughts as I— that he longed to take Prince Fingon by the waist and kiss him there for all to see, and to ravage him upon the cobblestones, for he would surely be a much better mount than Prince Fingon’s horse! Alas the last I saw of them they were walking together up fortress steps, a respectful distance apart. Off to do entirely respectable and innocent things to one another, I am sure!

I shall try to wheedle information out of Father when he returns from his post this eve. I dearly wish to know the Prince’s purposes in visiting, or at least what he has proclaimed them to be. It is awfully strange that he should have need to travel east three times in the past decade. What need could be so pressing during peacetime as to require the attentions of the Crown Prince himself— save for the needs of Lord Maedhros, of course!

Oh, how I wish Father was not so dreadfully tight-lipped about his work. Not even to satisfy his only daughter’s curious mind will he deign to stray from professional loyalty. Ridiculous! Still, I will do what I can to get information so that I might share it with you. Certainly a feast will be held ere long in Prince Fingon’s honour, and I hope very much that the courtiers will be given leave to bring their families as they were not last time. I long dearly to see Lord Maedhros and Prince Fingon together from a closer distance. My imagination is strong, but it is nothing compared to what it might be like to see with mine own eyes the two of them, strong and virile and seated side-by-side, their hands nearly brushing on the table, or else quietly disappearing beneath it in a manner they think is subtle…

I must take my leave now, for already I am being called for dinner. I will be sure to send another correspondence to update you the moment there is news to share.

Yours always,

Ceirel

Dearest Ceirel,

How I delighted to receive your letter! I ran straightway to my room and locked the door behind me and nearly squealed aloud for joy. How plainly they are in love! No doubt the Crown Prince shirked his duties to travel east to meet his lover, for without Lord Maedhros he is not whole, he cannot live, how his heart must long for him when they are parted! Oh, to be loved like that. To be desired so!

Please tell you you were able to talk your father into giving details. I am oh so curious what excuse the two have given this time. I wonder if they have even bothered to think of one, or if they have been too busy warming Lord Maedhros’ bed to get their story straight. You must write to me again as soon as may be and share with me all that you know.

Yours,

Taerinn

Dearest Taerinn,

I write to you again with both news and a gift, of sorts.

Firstly, I regret to inform that I have not learned what excuse the Crown Prince has given for his visit. Father will speak nothing of it. The only other person I know who has knowledge of the goings-on within the fortress is Elhenel’s uncle, who will say only that the Prince is here to take counsel with his cousin. A likely story! At first I was disappointed by this (lack of) development, but then something happened that made up for it even in excess: I was given leave to attend the feast! All of the families of Lord Maedhros’ courtiers were in attendance, but since Father is held so highly in Lord Maedhros’ esteem we were seated quite close, and I saw much that you will delight to hear. I have tried to include as much detail as I can recall, though in truth the wine flowed heavily and I indulged a little overmuch, so I may have missed things.

Know first that Crown Prince Fingon is even more beautiful up close. His eyes are dark and yet very warm, and they shine with that strange light from across the sea, and when once he turned his smile on me I felt caught in place and held by him, wholly and utterly. Never have I seen such beauty, never before have I seen such hope and grief and love coexist in the eyes of a single person. It is not hard to see why it was he who melted the ice heart of the Lord of Himring— or perhaps he held the Lord’s heart long ere it was frozen. Lord Maedhros, ever fell and fey and cold, comes alive in the nearness of his Prince. One may not see it if they neglect to look as closely as I, but it is obvious in the small things: he holds less tension in his shoulders, and he smiles oh so easily. Beyond that it is intangible, and I struggle to think how to adequately describe it. It is gravitational. As though something in him is pulled inexorably towards Prince Fingon in every moment.

I wish I could say that they shared meaningful looks all evening, or that their hands delved unsubtly beneath the table when all else were distracted, but I cannot. They are being careful, I think, so as not to be caught. It thrills even me to think it, so I can only imagine how erotic it must be for them! The sneaking around, trying not to look at one another when it is all they long to do, craving touch that is finally within reach after long years sundered and yet unable to avail themselves while there are prying eyes to see. It must make the relief of finally coming together once the evening is done all the sweeter.

And this brings me at last to the gift that I have for you. You see, I was so enamoured of this last thought as it seized me during the feast, and I could think of nothing only the Crown Prince and his Lord coming together at last in an urgent collision of desperate need for one another. Further, I had unquestionably overdone it on the wine, and so alas: a short story has been born. Entirely fictional of course; it came to me and I could not rest until I had written it down. Indeed I could not even sleep! Long was my labour as I bent over my desk until the early hours of the morning putting words to page. I have attached it to this correspondence for your enjoyment. Do let me know what you think.

Yours,

Ceirel

***

Lord Maedhros badly wanted Prince Fingon’s mouth around his prick. Unfortunately, he was at dinner.

He groaned inwardly in impatience. On the surface he was the very picture of Lordly grace and composure, yet inside his head was filled with debauched fantasies of his lover, the Crown Prince, kneeling upon the floor with tears in his eyes and his lips stretched wide around his meaty member.

The second he was able, he made his excuses and grabbed Prince Fingon’s arm and yanked him out of his seat. His fingers dug into the smaller Elf’s arms and left bruises in his skin that made Prince Fingon harden instantly in his clothes.

“My love?” asked the Prince, quietly, as he was dragged away.

“I can wait no longer, Fingon,” said Lord Maedhros. “I must have you.”

“Oh, I must have you too,” moaned the Prince, and he pulled Lord Maedhros into a shadowy alcove outside the Great Hall and began kissing him with abandon.

Lord Maedhros framed his face with his huge hands and kissed him very hard and passionately, as though to devour him, for he had missed him dearly and longed each day for the pleasure of his lover’s flesh. He ran his hands up and down his body and felt the lean slimness of his muscles and the roundness of his ass. Prince Fingon thrust against him.

“Take me, Maedhros,” he moaned, “right here, where any might see.”

Lord Maedhros knew it was a bad idea, but he was so desperate to make love to his cousin that he threw caution to the wind.

“Bend over,” he growled, sounding more like some manner of creature than an Elf. Prince Fingon braced his hands there upon a pillar and bent himself over, allowing the Lord of Himring to disrobe him entirely right there in the corridor.

“Please, my Lord,” whined the Prince. “Fuck my tight little ass!”

“Okay.”

Lord Maedhros thrust into him dry. Prince Fingon screamed in pain and pleasure. He felt as though he was tearing open, in a good way that made him very hard.

“Yes!” cried the prince in ecstasy. “Yes, fuck me harder cousin!”

Lord Maedhros fucked him with every ounce of his fell strength. The slap of their skin rang out in the empty corridor, along with the Prince’s delighted moans and Lord Maedhros’ grunts of pleasure. Prince Fingon’s hard cock bounced with each thrust. His eyes rolled back in his head as he felt his orgasm approaching like the unstoppable rush of river Sirion.

“Spill for me,” growled Lord Maedhros.

Prince Fingon spilled his seed onto the floor with a raw and throaty shout. A moment later Lord Maedhros spent deep inside the warm cocoon of his body.

“Good boy,” Lord Maedhros roared. He kissed all over Prince Fingon’s body, biting and marking him, so that while none could know of their love, the evidence of his ownership was written all over the Prince’s body, hidden beneath his fine clothes.

Prince Fingon stood up on his toes and kissed Lord Maedhros on his scarred mouth. Already they both were beginning to harden once more, for they each were dying of thirst for the other and wished nothing more than to be forever entwined.

Leaving Prince Fingon’s clothing in a pile upon the floor outside the Great Hall, Lord Maedhros picked him up and carried the smaller elf shrieking with laugher to his bedchamber, whereupon he took him again, and again, until Prince Fingon was fucked so raw he could barely move, and they were both happier for it.

End.

Dearest Ceirel,

How I squealed and kicked my feet to read your last correspondence! Oh, how in love they are! I admit I am rather envious of you for having had the chance to witness their love so near, but after the gift that you have given me I cannot fault you overmuch.

I have lost count of how many times I have read your story. It must be dozens now at least! Your skill in wordcraft is unmatched, dear friend— have you returned at last to your childhood dreams of authorship? If not, I beg you consider it. Indeed I know for certain that you will have a loyal audience eager to read whatever you choose to publish, for you see (and please do not be cross with me, I did it for love!) I have shared your work with another dear friend of mine by the name of Arphieph, and she loved it so much she just had to produce copies for distribution! Don’t fret, we have been very careful, but you should be pleased to know that your delightful story has now traversed all of the schoolhalls this side of Thargelion, and indeed has made its way even into Lord Caranthir’s Halls through a servant who swore up and down to be very discreet. Everybody loves it!

Please my friend, write some more won’t you? Think about it? For now I have included in this letter a copy of your story for your own keeping, for I know not whether you thought to keep one yourself. Do consider sharing it more widely— it would be a shame to keep something so beautiful so hidden, and indeed as many as possible should be made to know the love that lies between the Crown Prince of the Noldor and the tall Lord of Himring, for their bond is the stuff of legend!

I could not let your gift go unanswered, and so I have written you something in return to warm your sheets at night. It is not as well-crafted as yours of course, for as you well know my skill has always lain more in the work of metals than in words, but I have given it my best shot (Ha! You will soon see why this makes me laugh!). Nevertheless I do hope you enjoy. While you do not need my permission to share my work considering I have already shared yours without your consent, I grant it nonetheless. We two must make it our shared mission to ensure the love of these great Elf Lords is given the recognition it so deserves.

Yours forever,

Taerinn

(P.S. I have picked up where you left off— I hope you do not mind!)

***

Lord Maedhros rolled over and gave the Crown Prince a tender kiss upon his bare shoulder. Prince Fingon was tangled up in the Lord of Himring’s sheets, covered in his white seed from head to toe, bruised purple from the ardour of the Lord of Himring’s sharp fangs.

“You look stunning like this, my Prince,” said the Lord with a throaty growl. He bit Prince Fingon’s shoulder and licked the taste of blood from his lips.

Prince Fingon moaned and hardened again for the twentieth time that night. He thrust against the mattress.

“Have I not tired you out yet, my love?” asked Lord Maedhros, and climbed atop his lover before kissing him passionately. “I shall have to rectify that.”

“Do your worst, lord,” said Prince Fingon, sultrily. “I will never grow tired of you.”

“We will see about that,” growled Lord Maedhros.

He kissed the Prince for a very long time, because he loved and desired him so fiercely, until both of their lips were bleeding. He rubbed their cocks together until they were both moaning with abandon. The bed creaked and slammed repeatedly against the wall, so that all of Himring could hear the evidence of their ardour and know how much the two Elf Lords meant to one another.

Lord Maedhros held the Prince’s wrists above his head and with the stump of his arm he caressed Prince Fingon’s cock until he spilled his seed onto his arm. Then, with a dangerous gleam in eye, he held open the Prince’s mouth and shoved his stump inside.

Prince Fingon moaned and slobbered all over it, sucking it with his tongue as though it were his lover's huge and thick appendage of love. He dearly wished his cousin would replace the arm with his cock, so that he could taste the loving musk of him.

As though Lord Maedhros had read his mind, he suddenly straddled the Prince’s chest and stuck his cock down his throat.

Prince Fingon choked and gagged on the love weapon, which was even larger than his lord’s forearm had been. He moaned and began bobbing his head while his cousin thrust in and out of his throat. His delicious meat stick throbbed and pulsed dangerously as though it might explode. Prince Fingon redoubled his efforts, desperate to taste the sweet seed of his cousin!

When Lord Maedhros was nearing orgasm, he pulled out and pointed his dick at the Prince’s beautiful face like a sword. Prince Fingon stuck out his tongue, ready to receive his cousin’s load. He closed his eyes just in time for the Lord of Himring’s cumshot to splash across his face and tongue, decorating him like pearls with the ardour of his lover.

“You look beautiful like this, my love,” growled Lord Maedhros.

Prince Fingon purred his thanks and kissed him, full of his love, and the two rolled over and continued to make love long into the night and the morning too.

End.

Elhenel,

Apologies for sliding this under your door— I did knock, but you don’t seem to be home. In this envelope are two short stories authored by myself and Taerinn. Will you bring them with you to the Falas and give them to your sister for me? I was remembering those Bodice Rippers that she so loved, and I think she would get great enjoyment from them. You are of course welcome to read them yourself, but if you do I ask that you please do so in privacy of your room and take care that they do not fall into untrustworthy hands. It would not be well for me (or for my father) if I should incur the wrath of Himring’s Lord for the crime of having eyes that see and a heart that knows love for what it is.

Yours in friendship,

Ceirel

My dearest sister Finidril,

It is with a heavy heart that I write to tell you I will be unable to join you in the Falas this summer as we had planned. Though I miss you dearly and long for your company, Uncle has taken ill since our cousin was lost, and it would not be right for me to leave his care in Ammë’s hands alone. Aside from his sickness all is well here, and you needn’t worry yet. I have things under control. Please know that I think of you each and every day.

I am sending with this correspondence some short stories I was asked to pass along to you. You so love those scandalous novels of yours (though I know not how, I still think of that one with Finwë and Elwë and shudder). These particular stories involve Lord Maedhros of Himring and Crown Prince Fingon— I don’t see it, but perhaps you will. Maybe share them with your book club and see what the other ladies think.

I hope this gift can make up in some measure for my absence. I will journey south as soon as I am able, or else I may write again to request your presence here in Himring, if it seems that Uncle will get no better. Do not fret about Ammë, I promise I am taking care of her.

Yours always,

Elhenel

NOTICE TO ALL MEMBERS OF THE THROBBING HEARTS AND PARTS READERSHIP SOCIETY

This is the last call for submissions to our friendly Gilded Copper short story competition! Should you wish to participate in the read-aloud at our next meeting you must have your final draft submitted to Finidril no later than the day after next. Thus far we have received only one submission from Ascareth— well done you! In the absence of other submissions, she will have no competition in claiming the first place prize of publication alongside our two canon short stories by pioneers Ceirel Tegilronion and Taerinn Giliathonion in the F.A.. 320 edition of The Journal of Erotic Novellas for Sexually Liberated Women. Get to writing ladies! I look forward to seeing what you all come up with!

_{— HSD Internal Memo —}

Bregollam— take a look at these stories when you get a chance. I know it’s been centuries since we dropped the Maedhros and Fingon beat, but it seems people are finally catching on. Thinking with the renewed interest it may be time to revisit? Let me know and I can draft something up.

        — Celebrillam

THE HITHLUM SUN DAILY NEWS BULLETIN

^{17 Hísimë, F.A. 320}

CROWN PRINCE FINGON SPOTTED SHARING AN INTIMATE MOMENT WITH MAEDHROS FËANORIAN, HIS LOVER!

Sorry ladies, it looks like eternal bachelor Crown Prince Fingon is taken at last!

Rumours have swirled about Prince Fingon’s involvement with Maedhros Fëanorian ever since his death-defying feat upon the cliffs of Thangorodrim, where he braved certain death to rescue Maedhros from Morgoth’s evil clutches in a justly-renowned feat that not even Maedhros’ brothers dared attempt.

Himring’s Lord arrived this week in Hithlum for “taxation negotiations” with High King Fingolfin (sure Maedhros, we believe you!), meaning the two are reunited for some quality time only a year after Fingon’s last journey east. We get it, boys, being parted from your lover is never easy! The lovebirds are already making up for lost time, having been spotted together yesterday strolling arm-in-arm upon the ramparts of Barad Eithel, seemingly deep in conversation.

Could it be their future they were discussing? Might a royal wedding be on the horizon? A spokesperson for High King Fingolfin did not respond to a request for comment, but our fingers are crossed! While we wait to learn more, you can tide yourself over with some of the excellent fictional stories included at the back of this bulletin, though be warned: these are not for the eyes of children, nor for the faint of heart! HSD will keep you up to date on the newest developments in this story over the coming weeks.

“I just don’t understand why I’m assumed to be the bottom,” lamented Fingon.

Maedhros, who was leaning against Fingon’s desk and staring disbelievingly down at the collection of papers strewn across it, declined to comment on the fact that Fingon had spent the better part of an hour taking his cock that very morning.

“What I don’t understand,” he said, reaching past Fingon to pull a sheet to the front of the pile, “is how many hours they seem to think there are in a single night. Or how many times it’s feasible for two people to fuck between sundown and sunup.”

“Twenty is a little excessive,” Fingon mused, thumbing absently through the pages. “We could probably do it if you didn’t let yourself spill, so you could stay hard enough to fuck me.”

“We absolutely could not,” said Maedhros, “you would complain about being too sensitive and push me off after the third round. And why do I have to be the one who can’t come? I thought you were upset about being typecast as a bottom.”

“Well it’s for accuracy, isn’t it?”

“You’re a selfish lover, Findekáno.”

“According to these, apparently so,” said Fingon thoughtfully. “Though you don’t seem to mind it.”

“I’m probably too busy giving you my appendage of love.”

Fingon snorted. “Did you see that it was bigger than your forearm?”

“Yet still not as big as your mouth.”

Fingon threw back his head and laughed. “Nothing could be as big as my mouth.” Then, reading, “Covered head to toe in seed. What, did I bathe in it?”

“I’m sure you would if you could.”

“Disgusting, Russandol.”

“I’m disgusting? You’re the one who went swimming in seed.”

“Hush, darling, I think you’re about to kiss me passionately for the dozenth time.”

“Maybe after that I’ll growl again. Eru almighty, do I do anything but growl?”

Fingon hummed contemplatively and flipped through the pages. “You also roar, I think.”

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