Comes the Doom

by Emma Keigh

Rating: NC-17

Pairing: Gandalf/Elrond

Summary: The Wizard and the Elf-lord await the Council.

Warning: This story contains explicit scenes of sex between consenting adult males of different species

Category: PWP

Date: 16 January 2004

Series: ask the muses...


Disclaimer: The characters and melieux from The Lord of the Rings are the property of the estate of J.R.R. Tolkien and New Line Cinema (Time-Warner). I only play with them from time to time for my own amusement and without compensation. No harm; no foul; no profit. Anything or anyone new, however, is mine (left-overs again!). Somewhat inspired by Sir Ian McKellen's comments on slash.

Imladris, 3018 of the Third Age

"Come, Elrond," the wizard said quietly. "You should rest before the council meets tomorrow."

The Elf-lord looked up from the book he held on his lap. He had not turned a page in over an hour, he realized, and darkness had descended on the valley. Though his Elven sight could still make out the ancient writing, he knew Gandalf was right.

Putting the book aside he rose form his chair by the fire. Night fell earlier and earlier as autumn progressed, and a night's rest would do him good before the strain of leading the Council in the morning. Elrond's bedchamber was quiet, situated as it was in a private wing of the sanctuary's main building. Heavy draperies muffled the melodious sound of the Bruinen's falls, and only the sounds of the fire's popping and hissing in the hearth came to his ears.

By midnight he knew he would not sleep that night. A restlessness he could not fathom plagued him, and he found even the simplest rest evaded him. He drew a robe on over his nightshirt and returned to the library, hoping that reading would at least ease his mind.

The library was dark, only the smoldering fire in the hearth lighting his way. His eyes caught sight after a moment of the glowing bowl of a long stemmed pipe. "So you are still here, Mithrandir," he commented, startling the wizard from his reverie. "I'd recognize the smell of your pipeweed


The glow brightened as the wizard drew on the pipe, holding the smoke in his lungs for a moment before releasing it in a slow stream. "Yes," he answered. "I find it helps me fit the pieces of this vast puzzle together in my mind."

Elrond stood behind the wizard, and placed his hands on the Istar's shoulders. "What do you see?" he asked quietly.

"Bits and pieces, only," Gandalf explained, tapping the ashes out of his pipe into he fireplace. "The past," he went on, "the present, of course. And even, I think, the future." He stood up from the stool and turned to face his host. "There is too much to sort though."

"Once some decisions are made," Elrond offered, "the possibilities may become clearer." He extended his arms invitingly. "Come, old friend. Let us share what remains of the night. It has been too long since we lay with each other.

A smile crossed the wizard's wizened face. Though he looked much older than Elrond, he had lived in Middle-earth for barely a third the length of the Elf-lord's lifetime. "Yes," he answered. "It has been a long time." He stepped closer to Elrond and let himself be embraced, raising his face to

the taller Elf. Their lips met briefly before they drew apart and made their way back to Elrond's bedchamber.

Elrond's nightshirt and robe were quickly dispensed with, but it took several minutes of concerted effort to disrobe the wizard. When Elrond finally pulled the last garment from the wizard's body he smiled at the sight before him.

Gandalf's hair and beard were long and grey, giving him the look of an old man, but beneath the shapeless robes he wore his body was strong and well-made. His shoulders were broad and muscled, and his chest was smooth and unmarked except for the dark circles of nipples, their buds already crinkled with anticipation. His hips were narrow and between his long legs hung organs of a size to please any lover. He was fair skinned form his neck down, his face alone browned by centuries of sun and wind.

Elrond stood close and ran his hands down the lean flanks, smiling as the wizard's member twitched and swelled with arousal. His own organ was already throbbing, and he dropped to his knees, bringing his hungry mouth on a level with Gandalf's groin. Teasingly he licked at the stiffening shaft, then took the rosy crown into his mouth, sucking it to the back of his throat in a long, slow glide.

Gnarled fingers threaded into his hair, grasping his head lightly. The wizard shuddered and moaned as the Elf-lord brought him to full hardness, and Elrond heard a long sigh when he released the erection.

"Not too fast, my friend," Elrond cautioned. "We are both far too old to act like rutting youngsters."

Gandalf pulled Elrond into another embrace, their bodies meeting skin to skin as they shared a deep, passionate kiss. They found their way to the edge of Elrond's large bed, the coverlet thrown aside from the Elf-lord's earlier attempts at sleep. Plump pillows were piled against the carved

headboard, and the Elrond reclined among them, lying in the center of the bed. Gandalf joined him, snuggling close to the alabaster skinned Elf. Their hands stroked and caressed each other, their mouths tasted and nipped at every inch of skin.

Mithrandir did not ask why a phial of fragrant oil was conveniently at the bedside, and Elrond did not feel obligated to explain. They were old friends, each of them knowing the other's virtues and vices. They had shared this bed before, and well knew each other's bodies and preferences. Drawing his knees to his chest, the wizard offered himself to the Elf-lord.

"I shall be yours tonight, ellon-nîn.

Elrond's fingers skillfully prepared the wizard, teasing at this entrance, then stretching and oiling the tight passage. He generously oiled his own member, then slid himself slowly into Gandalf's body.

Once joined they moved together in an ancient rhythm that brought both of them to the edge of release. The wizard spilled his seed first, the pearly fluid flooding between their bodies, his spasms triggering Elrond's climax. With one final thrust the Elf-lord sent his essence deep into Gandalf's body before collapsing into the wizard's embrace.

They toyed with each other's long hair, sharing soft caresses and lingering kisses as their bodies recovered.

The day dawned all too soon, bringing with it the certain doom of the council's decision. Elrond knew only that the Ring could not stay in Imladris; Gandalf suspected they would have to destroy it in order to defeat Sauron. No longer could the powerful talisman stay hidden, no more could their own parts in the coming events be avoided.

The Elf-lord and the wizard arose and bathed together, then, refreshed and restored, joined the others to decide the fate of the world.

The End

© 2004 Emma Keigh

1,067 words

Author's note:

Tolkien wrote that though the Istari (wizards) appeared as old men, they were hale of body, which I interpret to mean that under those robes, Gandalf is a hunk.

ellon-nîn = my elf

I hereby witness that J.R.R. Tolkien is God and Peter Jackson is his prophet.

"I would draw some of the great tales in fullness, and leave man only placed in the scheme, and sketched. The cycles should be linked to a majestic whole, and yet leave scope for other minds and hands, wielding paint and music and drama." J.R.R.Tolkien.