Pairing: Aragorn/Legolas

Author: Charlotte (bratprincelestat@hotmail.com)

Rating: *NC-17*

Disclaimer: The characters and setting used in this story belong to the Tolkien estate, not to me.

Summary:  Typical slash fare. Legolas is depressed and finds consolation in Aragorn’s arms. Takes place as the fellowship takes a break at Lothlorien.

Author’s Note: This is my first attempt at LotR slash, so sorry about the cheesiness. Any comments (harsh or otherwise) would be greatly appreciated. Drop me a line. Oh, and if Canis is reading this, HA…bet you didn’t think I was capable of this!
 

**********************
The company settled down for their first relatively comfortable night since leaving Rivendell, in a small pavilion graciously appointed to them by the kind elves of Lorien. In the shelter of the forest there was no need for a nightly watch, so all lay down together. The terror of the past days hung over the group, but they were nevertheless glad of a safe place to rest. Boromir and Aragorn chose territory as far as possible from each other, positioning themselves on either side of the clearing. Gimli sat propped against a tree, snoring and dreaming long before any of the others. The hobbits formed a small clump in the center of camp, close together for warmth. Legolas snugly positioned himself in a tree a few feet away from the edge of their clearing. One by one they drifted off. The quiet whispers of the hobbits to one another mixed with the smooth murmur of the breeze, and they too soon fell off into sleep.

**********************
Legolas was awakened hours later by a small noise that invaded his sensitive ears even as he slept. He opened his eyes to find a world awash with the light of a full moon, and looked about with trepidation for what had pulled him out of sleep. What met his eyes was a tiny, bowed form close to the edge of the trees. He cocked his head slightly in confusion, and watched as a sob wracked the small body. One of the hobbits, he thought.

He dropped from his tree soundlessly. As he neared, he saw that the tiny figure in question was indeed Pippin. His knees were drawn up to his chest, his head buried in his tiny hands.

“Pippin…”he whispered. The hobbit started and  raised his tear-mottled face.

“Halfling, what is it that pains you so?”. The elf kept his voice low, and searched the eyes of his friend for an answer.

“I’ve had a bad dream, that is all. I came over here in order to not wake the others”. He scrubbed the tears on his face with his  hands, embarrassed to be found by Legolas, who he admired greatly for his skill and bravery, in such a condition.

The elf saw the blush rise in his face, and kneeled quickly in front of Pippin, dwarfing the child-small body of the hobbit with his own long and limber one. He placed one delicate hand atop Pippin’s curly-locked head, and the other on his narrow shoulder.

“Don’t be ashamed, little one. You are still a brave mite in my eyes. We are safe here, more than anywhere else we have been since leaving Rivendell, so you have nothing to fear this night. I…”

“Pippin?!…”. A tiny whisper came from the center of camp. One of the three remaining hobbits sat up from the bunch and hissed again, louder, “Pippin?! Oh…”.

“Merry, do be quiet. I am just over here.” Pippin offered a wry smile to Legolas, who still knelt in front of him. It was returned with a wink.

Merry bounced up and fairly flew over to the pair. He wrapped his arms around Pippin’s shoulders in a great bear-hug, and a grin appeared on his lips. “Oh, I had such a scare when I awoke and you were gone from beside me. I thought for sure you’d…”

“Quiet, Merry, you’ll wake the whole group. Legolas and I were having a talk. You needn’t get so worried over me”.

Legolas watched the tiny pair, so sweet even in their sleepy bickering. Without warning he gathered them both into his arms, and placed a kiss on each smooth forehead. “Go to bed, this may be our last quiet night for a long while”. They yawned in unison, and nodded to him, tiny faces turned to the moonlight, looking up into his sparkling blue eyes. He raised himself to standing as they trundled back to the sleeping forms of Sam and Frodo, arm in arm.

Long after the two had slipped off into sleep, he stood watching the quiet of the clearing and his sleeping comrades. The sorrow of tiny Pippin weighed on his heart heavily. He cursed fate for bringing such innocents into such a huge, angry battle. He turned his face to the sky, and a look of pain creased it’s  fair elven features. He turned and slipped without sound into the forest.

Unknown to him, Aragorn, who had indeed been awakened by Merry, watched him through squinted eyes. He saw, in profile, the look of despair that had crossed Legolas’ face. After a moment’s consideration, Aragorn, too, rose and followed his friend into the Lorien woods, his cloak trailing behind him in the night air.

**********************
The trees sang softly to him as Legolas slipped through their shadows, light as always. He walked slowly, drawn randomly  where his feet took him, and some time later he emerged at the edge of a mossy clearing. A pool of water shone at it’s centre, deep and clean,  illuminated by the moon.

Aragorn watched from a distance away, unknown to the elf.

Legolas sat on the soft ground, and drew his knees up. Cupping his chin in his hands, elbows propped on knees, he turned his face up to the sky. Two trails of silver traced their way down his smooth cheeks. Despair lined his forehead as great globular tears dropped into his lap. His eyes squeezed tightly shut against the beauty of nature around him.

This silent weeping was more than Aragorn could bear. He stepped from the cover of the trees, not concealing his footfalls from the elf’s sensitive ears. Legolas turned his head with a start, and caught sight of the man looking at him. Tendrils of anger rose in him for having been discovered, but they disappeared as he saw the unabashed concern in the eyes of his friend.

“What pains you so, my fair elf?”. Aragorn moved to crouch in front of Legolas’ sitting form as he said this, eyes searching his face with distress at the tears which flowed so freely.

“I was awoken from my sleep and found Pippin crying over a bad dream. The pain of the small ones make my heart ache. They are not warriors like us. They have no business being away from their homes and warm beds. We should have left them at Rivendell and carried the ring ourselves through these treacherous lands.”

“Ah, but you forget, they volunteered to accompany us. It was fate that brought them here. Not you or I. Their anguish is not your fault, no more than it is mine or theirs.”

“But they are innocent in all of this. I want…”. He hesitated, biting his lip and shutting his eyes against another onslaught of tears.

“What? Your tears disarm me. Anything to heal your heart is yours, if I have it in my power to grant it to you.”

Opening his eyes, Legolas perceived  the earnestness upon the ranger’s face. In one liquid motion he caught the man’s jaw in his hands and pressed their lips together tightly. He felt Aragorn stiffen in his hold, obviously taken aback.

Legolas pulled away, and turned his head, pink blush rising high in his cheeks. He avoided the man’s eyes and looked instead at the ground. “I am sorry. I have misjudged your offer, I think. Please, I will not speak of this to the others…”

“No, no”. Aragorn placed a hand on the elf’s knee. “I am just surprised that a being of your elegance, your beauty, desires comfort in *my* arms.”

“But you too are beautiful”. As Legolas said this, Aragorn cocked his head to the side, raising his eyebrows, obviously amused by the elf’s remark.

The elf clasped their hands together, and drew himself up to his full height standing, pulling Aragorn with him.

“You *are* beautiful. You lead as if it is second nature. I would follow you to the end of Middle Earth and back, if you took it as a whim. You give us hope and you instill in us courage.”  He pressed their lips together for the second time. This kiss was much better received. The elf’s tongue brushed the smooth surfacel of teeth, and with a sigh they were opened to allow him to probe further. Their tongues met, slickness upon slickness.

Tiny sparks flew down Legolas’ spine, and he felt a hardening deep down within himself. He slid his fingers into Aragorn hair, aware of the delicious roughness of the man’s beard against his sensitive skin. His hands found warmth in the smooth hollow of Aragorn’s lower back, the skin deliciously warm and supple, as the man’s hands settled onto his hips.

Aragorn too felt a tightening as he was caressed by the almost staggeringly knowing touch of the elf. They pulled apart finally and drew in deep breaths of the cool, humid night air.

Legolas kept his sapphire eyes on his lover’s grey ones as he  moved his deft fingers down to undo the cloak which still enveloped Aragorn. It was quickly untied and fell to the ground, pooling about their feet. Under it was only a thin tunic, which he removed also in haste, pulling the fabric over Aragorn’s head. The man submitted to this, and raised his arms to help.

Legolas looked at the bare chest with absolute lust undisguised on his angelic face. He raised both hands, flat-palmed towards the exposed flesh, and slowly made contact, sending tremors through both of their bodies. He slid his palms up and down chest and stomach, curling his fingers ever so slightly to leave  trails of pink behind his fingernails in the tanned flesh. Aragorn drew in a rough, quick breath at the sensual pain.

Legolas bent slightly at the waist and wrapped his arms around Aragorn’s chest, his palms resting flat against the skin of his back. He could feel the steely strength of muscle just below the surface of the skin, developed in battle, now taut and vibrating with excitement. The elf skated his tongue slowly up the vertical hollow where the man’s ribcage fused together, and slid to one side to a nipple, curling his tongue around it. It drew up and hardened.

Baring his teeth and catching the small nub between his them, Aragorn’s hands, which had until then remained at his sides, caught the elf tightly by the shoulders. A tiny moan escaped the man’s mouth as his chin drew upwards and the cords in his neck tightened. His hips thrust forward inadvertantly and Legolas felt the steely hardness of his erection pressed against his body.

He knelt, and looked up at Aragorn, his eyes surreally bright pools. Aragorn gazed back at him, eyes half lidded in ecstasy. He carefully untied the leggings which covered the remainder of the man’s body, and pulled them down to his knees in one quick motion. Now unfettered, Aragorn’s shaft jutted straight out from his body.

Legolas experimentally touched his tongue to the end, which sent a tremor through the man’s body and emitted a sigh from his open lips. He curled his fingers through the elf’s frosty blonde hair, relishing the satiny texture.

After a few swipes of his tongue around the head of the cock, Legolas stopped. He slowly stood up. Pressing his fingertips against Aragorn’s chest, he pushed himself away to arm’s length. Aragorn watched him questioningly. The elf’s hands slipped his tunic over his head and dropped it to the ground. His shoes and leggings quickly followed. He stood fully naked, his lithe body gleaming luminescently.

He ran his tongue over the smooth enamel of his teeth. “I want you. Inside.”

Aragorn kicked off his boots, and stepped out of his leggings in a matter of seconds. He took one step and crushed his body full-length against the elf’s. He lowered Legolas to the soft ground without a word, his strong arms wrapped around his shoulders, hands cupping shoulder blades.

He knelt between the elf’s open thighs, fingers searching for a tiny, tight hole. Legolas squirmed as he pressed inside the tense ring of flesh. First one, then two fingers, widening for what was yet to come.

He slipped his thumb into his mouth, and then flicked it across the end of his cock to lubricate, sending fire through his veins each time he did.

He looked into the elf’s face. Legolas stared back expectantly, never taking his eyes off of Aragorn’s face.

Bracing himself with one hand on the ground, the man guided himself to the entrance of the hole with his other. He pushed his hips forward slightly, but Legolas thrashed away in pain, a moan escaping his lips.

Aragorn withdrew hurriedly, and bent down over the elf’s prone body, bringing their eyes within inches.

“Did I hurt you?” His face was furrowed with worry.

“Yes.” A  lone tear slipped down the elf’s cheek. “But…I want this. The pain is…good”.

Aragorn kissed away the tear. “Are you sure, my princeling?”.

Legolas nodded, eyes wide and full of nothing but trust. His hair made a golden halo spread around his head on the mossy ground.

Aragorn guided himself again to the tight hole. As he pushed forward gently, Legolas bucked his hips upward, filling himself fully with Aragorn’s shaft. The man was not expecting this. The opening was so tight, so rough. He lost his grip on the last strings of his composure and was blinded by a white light as he exploded. The arms which propped him up buckled, and he fell against Legolas’ chest. The elf’s arms enveloped him until the last tendrils of his ecstasy slipped away.

He withdrew and rolled onto his side, bracing himself on his elbow. Legolas lay prone beside him, his erection still hard against the flat plane of his stomach.

“Ahh, so I have been satisfied but still *you* wait” the man said, smile flirting with the edges of his mouth. He encircled the elf’s delicate wrist and pulled his arm flat and straight. His fingertips glided over the delicate skin of the inner arm. His tongue appeared in the corner of his mouth.

He walked his fingers up the elf’s arm to his shoulder, and glided his finger over the ivory hardness of his collarbone. Down he went, tracing the washboard of ribs with his callused fingers, while Legolas writhed inadvertantly under the delicious friction on his sensitive skin.  Aragorn’s  hand stopped at the stomach, splayed on it’s flat tautness  for a moment.

He ran his hand back up over the elf’s ribs, and stopped a nipple, which he traced languidly . Legolas stiffened, and as Aragorn pinched down, he had to bite down on a cry. The elf’s hand strayed to his shaft, which ached with desire.

Aragorn gently but firmly pressed that hand back down to the ground at the elf’s side. “I am here to pleasure you so that you need not pleasure yourself. Let me.”

Legolas groaned, but relaxed his hand at his side.

Aragorn continued tweaking the twin nubs of the elf’s nipples until he was fairly screaming . He lifted his hand and moved it down, but shifted aside when Legolas pressed his hips forward in anticipation, and instead traced one prominent pelvic bone with a light touch of his thumb. The elf’s breathing quickened, and the heat rose off his body in waves.

The man began stroking the silken interior of Legolas’ thighs, massaging deeply with his weathered fingertips.

“Annngh!” Legolas raised one hand off the ground, clenched it into a fist and slammed it back into the soft ground. “I shall split completely in two if you do not make haste!” He pleaded. “Please!”

Aragorn chuckled, and finally wrapped his fingers around the root of the elf’s passion. He pumped twice and the Legolas finally slipped over the brink, spilling gleaming white pearl onto his own stomach. His back arched and he cried out, digging his hands into the soft ground.

As he lay back against the ground, Aragorn placed his hand on the elf’s chest, gradually feeling his heart slow  to a normal pace.  They lay like this for some moments. The forest breathed and sighed around them. Aragorn began to doze off into sluggish half-sleep.

Suddenly, Legolas pulled himself away from the embrace, startling Aragorn out of his drowsiness.
He pushed his tired body up to standing. Aragorn craned his neck upwards, the signs of sleepiness obvious on his face.

“I think I should like to bathe.” Legolas said with a downward glance, and he stepped lightly to the pool of water at the centre of the clearing. His ethereal-white body slipped seamlessly into the water, which was oily black in the moonlit darkness. He waded in so that the water  reached just above his hips, cutting off the lower part of his body from view. He cupped water with his delicate hands, smoothing it in waves over his fervent skin.

Aragorn watched from his vantage point on the mossy ground. After a moment, he too pushed himself into the ground, tired joints groaning. He stepped into the water.

Legolas heard the slash his feet made as he entered, and the elf turned to face his lover. They  locked eyes. A grin passed over Aragorn’s normally staid face, and he dived headfirst into the dark water, disappearing from view. The ripples that he left gradually spread out and the water became glassy-smooth once more.

Legolas waited for what seemed to him quite some time in silence of the night, and finally he heard Aragorn surface behind him. He made to turn around, but a strong pair of hands on his shoulders hindered him. He felt as his was hair gathered up, and slung over his shoulder, exposing his back and shoulder blades. He tensed. He could see nothing, but his sensitive ears picked up a splash in the water.

Aragorn, behind him,  cupped a palmful of water over the elf’s back, and slowly let a stream of the cool liquid skim down his backbone. At the first lick of the cool water, Legolas arched his back and yelped at the sensation, but then he smiled and allowed his body to be subjected to the ticklish game. His head lolled back as his chin was upraised, and he sighed.

As he turned to face his lover, Legolas caught a glimpse of an expression of childlike awe on the man’s face.  Aragorn caught himself and looked away as Legolas smiled, blush rising in his cheeks.

Legolas reached out his hand and ran his dripping fingers delicately along the man’s straight jawline, and into the dampness of his dark hair. He caught a shank of it in his limber fingers, and neatly plaited it into a slender braid that fell just behind the man’s ear. Aragorn complacently allowed him to do this, and as Legolas tied the end around itself, he smiled deeply. They left the pool hand in hand.

As they dried and reclothed, Legolas caught Aragorn from behind in a tight hug around his waist. He rested his chin on the man’s shoulder, and whispered into his ear: “Thank you”. Aragorn smiled.

Releasing him from the embrace, Legolas said “We should return to the camp. The others will worry if they awake to find both of us missing.”

“No.” Aragorn spread his cloak, so weathered and practical, over the soft moss of their conjugal bed. “None shall wake until morning, and they will think nothing of our absence. If they inquire we shall tell them we awoke early and decided to explore the woods. They will believe us.”

He extended his hand to Legolas, and with a contented smile the elf took it. They lay, the man’s chest to the elf’s back. With Aragorn’s arm curled possesively around his chest, the peace of the forest settled on Legolas’ heart like a mantle. Both drifted off into serene sleep.

The End