The Thurber Hypothesis
Or
A Funny Thing Happened
on the Way to Imladris
By Capella
Nine
“This
seems like a nice neighbourhood,” said Miranda approvingly as Giles turned the
car into his street. “You’ve done well
for yourself.”
“You
could have stayed here, you know.
There’s plenty of room.” He
pulled the car to a halt outside the house and turned to look at his visitor.
She
smiled. “Well, thank you, dear. But you know Raymond and the children would
never forgive me if I didn’t look them up while I’m in town. Sheila’s cooking something special
tonight. You’ll be wanting your last
night alone with your guest, anyhow.”
She leaned across and tapped him on the arm to emphasise the latter
point, adding a wink for good measure.
It
suddenly seemed extremely warm in the car.
“Have you been reading me?” Giles asked suspiciously.
“Now,
Rupert, you know I wouldn’t dream of using the Powers on you. Besides, I don’t need to. Any woman with half an ounce of intelligence
would have worked it out within a mile of the airport. You should hear yourself!”
He
groaned and shook his head, hanging on to the steering wheel with both
hands. “Am I so bad? Really?” He’d known Miranda far too long to beat about
the bush or attempt denials.
“Well,
you wouldn’t win any prizes for keeping secrets, but it isn’t necessarily a bad
thing. If this elf is half of what you
say he is, it’s quite understandable that you should
want him to stay.” She lowered her voice
and spoke gently. “You do know that it’s right for him to go, don’t you?”
“Of
course I do. I’ll just have to get over
it.”
“That’s
it, the famous British stiff upper lip.”
She smiled again and placed a hand over his. “Now, let’s get going. I’m just dying to meet him.”
By some
accident of timing, Xander and
Xander,
meanwhile, was polite enough. The
sceptical expression on his face made it clear he was having difficulty
reconciling the physical presence of Miranda with her awesome reputation. Giles had seen many a demon fall into the
same trap, fooled by the pink velour leisure suits and the carefully waved grey
hair with the faintest tinge of blue. For
many of them, their disbelieving scorn had been the last thought they would
ever have in this world.
Xander
hoisted the bag and Giles got out his key, but the door was opened before he could
get there.
He’d
been away from the house for less than two hours, but the sight of Legolas
standing in the doorway still came as a shock.
The elf, dressed in simple modern clothes but with his hair pulled back
in the tiny plaits he favoured, was quite uncannily beautiful. Giles felt something inside him lurch
painfully.
Miranda
was clearly impressed. Her eyes had
grown huge. “Oh my,” she said in her
rich southern tones. “Aren’t you just… adorable!”
It
struck Giles as deeply unfair that women of a certain age could get away with
saying such things. Legolas certainly
didn’t seem to be offended, nor was he distracted by Miranda’s appearance. He had bowed his head humbly and placed a
hand over his heart.
“My
Lady,” he said, “I am most honoured.”
“Oh my
dear, you must call me Miranda. And the
honour is mine, believe me.”
Elf and
sorcerer regarded each other for a moment, both faces slowly developing
enormous smiles. They seemed to be indulging
in some sort of communication that didn’t require spoken words. Legolas extended his arm and Miranda moved
forward to take hold of it, then they stepped in through the door still gazing
at each other.
Xander
made a poor attempt to suppress an incredulous snort and Giles glared at him,
although he could have admitted to feeling somewhat disgruntled himself.
“Well,
come on then,” he said irritably. “We
can’t stand out here all day.”
They trooped into the house and Giles pulled the door shut.
By the
time he brought the tea tray through into the lounge, Miranda and Legolas had
finished their silent conversation. The
elf was sitting back in his chair and watching intently as Miranda quizzed
Xander and
“I do
hope Buffy will be calling by later, dear,” she said as Giles handed her a
mug. “I can’t remember how many years it
is since I met a Slayer.”
“Oh she’ll
be here,”
“It
amazes me that she manages to find time for friends, boyfriend and college on top of all the slaying,”
Miranda commented as she stirred sugar into her tea. “She must be quite unlike the others.”
“She
certainly is,” Giles responded with pride.
“As a Slayer, well, as an individual really, she’s in a league of her
own.”
They
chatted on for a while over the tea and biscuits. Legolas spoke only when addressed directly,
and his eyes rarely strayed from Miranda.
She seemed perfectly at ease being the centre of everyone’s attention
and kept the conversation rolling along at a merry pace. Giles wondered if
When
the pot was empty and a natural lull in the proceedings reached, Miranda pushed
back her chair.
“Well
now,” she said. “Y’all will forgive me
if I whisk your lovely elf away for a while?
We have a lot of talking to do, and I figure it might be pleasant to do
it outdoors on a day like this. What do
you think, Honey?”
“I
think it is an excellent idea,” replied Legolas gravely.
A few
minutes later Giles watched them set off down the street together. Miranda had her arm linked through Legolas’s,
for all the world like a doting grandmother taking a
stroll with her favourite grandson. The
image made him grin, but he still felt a faint whisper of jealousy in his head. He’d give anything to be party to that
conversation. Miranda would have no
scruples about wading straight in and uncovering a few of the elf’s mysteries,
of that he was quite sure. He sighed and
shut the door.
Xander
and
“We’ll
come by later this afternoon,” said Xander, “and bring Buffy. Anya, too, if she’s back by
then.”
“But Giles, what about tonight?”
What
about tonight, indeed? Giles had been
trying desperately not to think of it for days.
Before he could formulate an appropriate response, Xander unexpectedly
stepped in and rescued him.
“No,
Will, I think one night at the Bronze was probably enough for our elf. I bet Giles has something suitably
intellectual cooked up for tonight, anyway. We should go to the dorm party and leave them
to it. There’ll be time in the morning for
the final farewells.”
Later
in the day the whole Scooby gang arrived at the house to find Giles still
waiting on his own. It hadn’t been an
easy afternoon for him and he’d resorted to housework in an attempt to calm
himself down, so at least the place was gleaming. Nobody noticed, of course; they were too busy
settling in the lounge, attacking the biscuit tin and trading light-hearted
banter. Mercifully it wasn’t long before
the elf and the sorceress returned.
Giles
knew better than to ask where they’d been, although he was itching to
know. All Miranda would volunteer was
that it had been a most pleasant time, and quite illuminating. Legolas, however, seemed changed, almost
glowing. He wasn’t exactly voluble, but
the cautious reticence that Giles had noticed over the last couple of days was
gone. For some reason which he really
didn’t want to explore, the elf’s happy serenity made Giles feel distinctly
miserable.
He
busied himself in and out of the kitchen while the others joked and told
tales. Miranda was clearly delighted
with Buffy, and even Anya seemed relaxed in her presence. Giles
knew he was being churlish, but he found the general atmosphere of jollity
almost unbearable. It was quite a relief
when Miranda’s nephew turned up to drive her off across town and the rest of
them took it as their cue to leave.
Of
course, that still left the problem of getting through the evening without
making too great a fool of himself.
“We
could go out for dinner,” he suggested, almost afraid to look Legolas in the
eye. The elf was gazing at him calmly
with that odd listening expression that always made Giles wonder if he was
mind-reading. “There are one or two fairly
good restaurants in town. I could phone
and see about a table.”
“Have
we not had enough company for today?” Legolas responded gently. “Unless it is important to you that we
venture out, I think I would prefer to spend the evening here with you.”
Oh
Lord, if he only knew. “Fine, that -
that’s fine,” Giles stammered. “In that
case, I’d better nip out for some food, and a couple of bottles of decent
wine.”
“An excellent idea.” Legolas smiled, the strange light in his eyes unfathomable. “And I should like to come with you.”
*************
“Rupert,
is it your intention to slay me with delight?”
The elf spoke breathily. “If such
is the case, you are close to achieving your aim.”
Giles
stared at the elf’s ecstatic expression, the closed eyes and moistly parted
lips. If he had ever before wanted anything as badly as he wanted Legolas
right now, he couldn’t recall it. He
didn’t trust himself to speak.
“I
thought I had known pleasure, my friend, but this?” The blue eyes opened and gazed back at him
dreamily, as the elf slowly ran his tongue across his lips.
Aware
of the flush threatening to burn up his face, Giles cleared his throat and
struggled to find his voice. “You
haven’t yet tried the maple and pecan,” he said.
“Ah,
there is more?” Legolas sighed
dramatically. “First
the salmon, and now… this.” He
pushed his bowl across the table with a heart-stopping smile and watched
eagerly as Giles scooped more ice cream into it. “If you succeed in killing me with it, I
shall die the happiest of elves.”
Giles
sipped his wine as he drank in the sight of Legolas savouring every mouthful of
the dessert, licking it slowly from the spoon and pausing before each morsel as
if to memorise the taste of the previous one.
Could it be that the elf genuinely didn’t realise what a picture he made
as he gave himself over to such sensual enjoyment? Perhaps he had no idea that Giles was finding
the entire performance devastatingly erotic.
He could hardly believe that his six hundred and something year old
companion could be so naïve, and yet if he did
know what he was doing, why should he choose to tease so unfairly? His rich sense of humour had revealed no streak
of cruelty until now.
Once
dinner was over and the last pots placed in the dishwasher, Giles ran a cloth
over the kitchen surfaces before going through to the lounge. He’d rehearsed what he wanted to say a dozen
times.
“I’m
glad you enjoyed the meal,” he said, feeling inexplicably nervous. “I wanted to do something rather special for
you on, er, your last night.” Good God, was that the best he could do? He sounded like a moonstruck teenager.
“You
have already done more than enough for me,” said Legolas softly. He rose smoothly from his chair and crossed
the room towards Giles, coming close enough for the man to notice his scent,
the sweet green freshness of him.
“No,
really,” Giles stuttered, fumbling in his pocket for a handkerchief as he
pulled his glasses off for polishing.
Legolas’s
hand suddenly reached forward and stilled his before he could apply cloth to
lens. As the elf gently took his glasses
from him and placed them on top of the bookshelf, Giles stood rigid, listening
to the frantic pulse in his ears.
“I
could never thank you enough for your generosity,” said Legolas, “and yet there
is one more thing I would ask of you.”
“Which
is…?” he managed to croak.
“Only this.”
Long
fingers closed around his wrist and pushed his arm to the side, allowing
Legolas to move closer. Before Giles had
the chance to react, the elf was kissing him, not chastely as a friend might do,
but with a lover’s passion.
Giles
was so astounded that a while passed before he thought to part his lips in
response to the elf’s insistent pressure.
Immediately, Legolas slipped his tongue between them and Giles tasted him,
the sweetness of the wine and the ice cream, but behind it that same strange
green flavour. He realised that the elf
still held his wrist, while the other hand cradled his head, keeping him firmly
in place as his mouth was slowly, thoroughly explored, although why the elf
imagined that he would want to pull away was a mystery. His knees were literally weak with the
pleasure of it all and his heart was skittering painfully. By the time the elf released him, he felt that
he was mere moments away from orgasm.
Legolas
stepped back a little, although he kept a hold of Giles’s arm. There was an intense, questioning look on his
face.
“Only that?” Giles gasped, once he’d regained the ability to
breathe.
“That
is all I would ask of you, my friend,” replied Legolas. “Any more must be at your behest, not mine.”
“Do you
have any idea what you do to me?” The words were out suddenly, before he could
stop and think.
“Actually,
yes, I do.” The elf spoke quietly,
carefully. “I have tried to respect your
privacy, but sometimes when an emotion is so powerful, I cannot shut it
out. It has not left me… unaffected.”
That
would explain it. His mind was a
seething mass of half-baked thoughts, but uppermost was the question: why should an astonishing creature like
Legolas want to kiss him, a nondescript
and bookish man, long past his best? If
the elf was being drawn to him simply because of his own longings… it was an intolerable
thought.
“I’m
sorry, Legolas. Really
very sorry.” Giles shook his
head, looking at the floor.
“Why sorry, Rupert? You have
done nothing wrong. Why should your
feelings shame you?”
“I
should be able to control myself. I
didn’t realise I was dragging you into it.”
“Oh! Forgive me, I have expressed myself
badly.” The elf’s eyes
widened in comprehension. “You
think that I am merely responding to your desires, not acting on my own.”
“Well, you
could hardly be expected to… ”
“To feel desire for you, my friend?” Giles felt something strange happen in his
belly as the elf moved closer again and raised a hand to stroke his cheek, very
lightly. “You think too little of
yourself.”
“I’m a
realist,” he managed, closing his eyes.
“Ah,
but perhaps you misjudge me. How should
I not be attracted to your maturity and wisdom, your experience, your generous
soul? And it must be said,” the elf
brushed a finger teasingly across Giles’s mouth as he spoke, “that as a man, you
are finely made.”
The
touch of laughter in the elf’s voice was enough to overcome Giles’s doubts, or
at least to make them irrelevant. Without
pausing to question it, he brought his hand up to the elf’s neck, burrowing
beneath his hair – every bit as soft as it looked – to pull Legolas towards
him.
This
time Giles was the one doing the kissing, although the elf was not slow to respond. Their
tongues pushed against each other playfully for a while before Legolas pulled
back, as if inviting the man to enter his mouth. It was not a kiss he could have grown tired
of; only the need for oxygen brought it to a halt.
They
stood staring at each other while Giles tried to calm down a little. The way his heart was racing couldn’t
possibly be healthy, not at his age.
“So, do you wish for more?” Legolas finally asked,
smiling. “Under the circumstances, it
would be understandable if you felt that restraint was advisable.”
“What do you want me to say? I think
you’re well aware of my feelings on the issue, but I still find it incredible
that you should want the same, that you aren’t just being kind… Oh, God…”
Words
failed him completely as the elf, his smile now more
of a wicked grin, slid a hand down his back and guided him forward into rather
closer contact than before. There were
some things a man couldn’t fake, and unless elves were built very differently
from humans it was perfectly obvious that Legolas was not merely playing
along. His physique, it would seem, was splendid
in every respect.
“Now do
you realise that my desire is genuine?” The elf spoke close to his ear, whilst shifting
his hips from side to side in a rhythm that threatened to push Giles over the edge
in a matter of seconds.
“Yes,
yes indeed, but please, you need to stop doing that.”
“Mmm, a shame, as it is most… pleasurable,” Legolas murmured, but he drew back as
requested, and his face grew serious.
“My friend, forgive me if I have been excessively forward. I knew that you would never ask for what you
wanted, and feared that you would reject any offer made solely in words. I have no wish to cause
you discomfort, believe me.”
“It’s
not a matter of discomfort, just astonishment,” replied Giles dryly.
They gazed at each other for a moment, during which Giles mentally shook
himself and managed to get some clarity into his thoughts. This was literally a once in a lifetime occurrence. To hell with the
repercussions.
“Shall we go upstairs?” he suggested.
Legolas
smiled and crossed the room to the table.
“I shall bring the wine.”
I might
need it yet, thought Giles, but he kept the notion to himself.
He
glanced around the bedroom as Legolas set the bottle and glasses down on the
small cupboard. How many lonely nights
had he spent in this bed? He’d bought a
new one, of course, after
He sat
down on the bed, next to Legolas.
“Why do
you laugh?” the elf asked.
“I was
thinking of a friend. The
last friend to visit me… here.”
“Ah, a special friend. I had not
thought that there was anyone…”
“No, it
isn’t like that. I’m a free agent, I
assure you.” The elf had raised the
subject, so he felt able to ask the question.
“But what about you? Do you not have, er,
prior commitments?”
Legolas
sighed and reached for the wine bottle.
He poured a glass and handed it to Giles before refilling his own. “Yes, there is someone. He waits for me.”
“Then
are you sure that we should be considering…”
The elf
stared into his wine before turning back to Giles. “Rupert, this time in your world has changed
me, has made me aware of aspects of myself that I had never thought to
see. These revelations disturbed me
greatly, until I spoke with Miranda today and she allayed some of my fears. She is uncommonly wise, and not only in
matters of sorcery.”
“She is
indeed,” Giles agreed, taking a swig of the wine. What was it that had unsettled Legolas so
badly? What could Miranda have said to
him? He’d probably never know.
“Perhaps
I should feel guilty for wanting to share some pleasure with you, my friend,
but try as I might I cannot. Tomorrow I
shall be gone, either back to my own world, or perhaps to some other place and
time that cannot be predicted. Miranda
has made that risk quite clear to me. In
either case, what is certain is that
all knowledge of this time will be obliterated from my mind. Can you imagine what that means to me,
Rupert? For once in my infinity of days
I would follow my instincts, without giving thought to an eternity of
consequence.”
Giles
blinked the moisture from his eyes. “I
wish I could make you happy,” he said unthinkingly, “if only for an instant.”
Legolas
smiled at him, a smile to melt the soul.
“Then let us not discuss it overmuch,” he said. “This is no time for melancholy.”
“No,
you are quite right.” Giles reached down
to put his glass on the floor before turning back to the elf’s waiting lips.
It was
only when the long fingers moved to the front of his shirt that he suffered a
flash of panic. What on earth must
Legolas, with his centuries of experience, be
expecting?
“I
don’t, I mean I haven’t really...” he began.
“This
is not an area in which expertise is necessary,” said the elf reassuringly,
swirling his fingertips in the hair exposed by the opened buttons. “You would make me happy if you were to lie
back and simply take what I have to give.”
“Oh
God,” he gasped, yet again, as Legolas conquered the final fastening and pulled
the shirt open, dipping his head to attend to Giles’s chest with his lips and
tongue. “Oh…”
By the
time the elf pulled off the last of his clothing, Giles was beyond caring
whether what he was doing was right, appropriate, or good enough. He was reduced to moaning like a mindless idiot,
and occasionally reaching out to touch some part of Legolas, a handful of soft
hair, a strongly muscled forearm, a smooth cheek…
“Are
you going to get undressed? I would very
much like to look at you,” he managed to get out in a more lucid moment.
“As you wish.” Legolas
bent to kiss him briefly before sliding off the bed. The T shirt came off in one swift movement,
revealing the elf’s perfectly smooth, pale chest. Then the jeans, and…
“Oh dear
God,” Giles groaned. “You are… you are
magnificent.”
“And
you are quite irresistible,” Legolas replied, straddling Giles on the bed and
lowering himself slowly down, bringing their bodies into agonisingly
stimulating contact.
Giles
ran both hands down the elf’s back and grasped his firm, rounded buttocks. Legolas was moving against him, one hot, hard
penis against the other, and it felt so incredibly good he thought he might
pass out.
“I
won’t last if you keep doing… oh!”
“No
matter,” the elf chuckled, so close that it felt like a growl in his ear, a shiveringly seductive sound. “Why worry if the first time is over
quickly? The second will be less hasty,
and the third,” he flexed his hips hard, making Giles gasp, “will be positively
languorous.”
It was
just too much. He dug his fingers into
the elf’s flesh and let out an incoherent scream. He felt the hot breath on his ear and heard
the low whisper, “Yes, Rupert, yes!” as he came, pulse after pulse and nothing
but white behind his eyelids.
He’d
thought it couldn’t get any better, until Legolas rolled off him and got to his
knees so he could lean down and lick the sticky fluid off Giles’s chest. Even his groin managed a last spasm of
pleasure at the sight.
“What
about you?” he gasped, writhing under the elf’s tongue. “You’re encouraging me to be selfish and you
haven’t…”
Legolas
grinned at him as he slid down the bed to lie at Giles’s side. He reached for the man’s hand and guided it
down over his hard, flat belly towards the spectacular equipment at its
base.
“I do
not perceive it to be a problem.” Legolas paused to sigh and blink as Giles
massaged his balls – strangely smooth and hairless, like all the rest of
him. “The night is yet young.”
Giles
wrapped his hand around the elf’s penis and began to stroke, gently at first,
but with gradually increasing pressure and speed. He watched every twitch, every flutter of the
elf’s response and heard with growing satisfaction the unsteady breathing, the gasps
and the moans.
He felt
his own face breaking into an evil smile as he slowed down the pace and drew a
cry from the elf by moving his thumb in leisurely, dragging circles. Legolas was right. The night was yet young, and he’d be damned
if he was going to waste any of it on sleep.
To be
continued…
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