Fandom: LotR

Disclaimer: I am only borrowing them to have a little fun. Is that such a crime? Yes? Dammit. Don't sue me, please, I need to pay for school.

Pairing: Pippin/Aragorn/Legolas

Warnings: SLASH threesome (the more the merrier!)

Author: Murron (kohl_boys_rule_all@yahoo.ca)

Rating: R

Summary: Pip sees something he shouldn’t in the house of Elrond, and is intrigued *wink*

Author's Notes: This was going to be a serious, uberkinky story, but it turned into a sarcastic,  Pippin-worshipping bit of fluff. Couldn't be helped. He's so absolutely adorable. I am merely the vessel through which slash flows, don't blame me. Oh, btw, the dialogue decided to take on a little bit of a modern tone because, well, who needs proper grammer anyway?

***

The great hall in the house of Elrond, which had of late been teeming with men and elves and various others was now empty of all but the chosen eight,  the members of the notorious fellowship, which would, the next day, begin their dangerous and foolhardy quest into the depths of Mordor. The ends of the great, long  table were stacked absurdly high with plates, dishes, cups and silverware, the aftermath of the huge feast thrown by Elrond in honour of the expedition.

The rest of the guests had drifted away, leaving but two men, an elf, a dwarf, four small hobbit creatures, all of them reluctant to shatter the last of the evening, dreading the thought of the next morning's departure. None wanted to be the first to surrender and go off to bed.

If one were a fly on the wall, a casual observer, the scene would appear almost contented. The dwarf Gimli, had turned his chair to the wide fireplace, propped his feet up and promptly drifted off to sleep, treating those around him to a sonata of snores and sighs. One man, Aragorn, beside him, was brooding, ensconced in his own world. The other man, Boromir, had a hobbit, being Merry Brandybuck, perched on his lap, and was whispering stories of glory and riches into his tiny audience's thrilled ear. Two other hobbits sat at the table. One, Frodo, was angsting, and the other, Sam, was still eating the remnants of dinner. And Legolas, the golden elf-prince, sat across from them, face pinched in concentration as he feathered arrows,  building up his arsenal for the days and weeks to come.

But the tiniest member of the fellowship was doing nothing at all. Perched on a chair much too big for his short legs, Pippin Took simply sat and stared into space, wishing there was room on Boromir's lap for him as well, but knowing that Merry, wriggly as he was, was not one to share a seat with easily. To amuse himself, he tried counting the plates in one stack, but kept losing himself around fifty and having to start over again. Time inched along.

"Well,  I think I'll be getting some sleep." Aragorn was the first to give in to the ever-progressing night. With a grunt and a few sore-sounding joint-pops, he abandoned his chair and moved towards the door with a melodramatic flutter of cape. Halfway there, he turned. "I'd advise the rest of you to do the same. We've a long way to go tomorrow."

As he turned back, he winked in the direction of the elf at the table. Other than Legolas, who smiled shyly and winked back, young Pippin was the only person in the room who caught the small gesture. What was this now?

As the door shut behind Aragorn, Pippin glanced inquisitively in the direction of Legolas, who glared back at the tiny hobbit, daring him to acknowledge that he had been spying on…on what? Pippin had no idea. Suddenly a piece of lint on his tunic caught his eye and quite honestly demanded every scrap of his attention. What wink? Nobody saw anyone wink at anyone. Don’t be so paranoid, elfie!

When Pippin finally dared to glance up again after many minutes, Legolas was packing away his arrows. He got up . "I think I'll take the Lord Aragorn's advice and get some rest." He nodded to the rest of the group and strutted out of the hall, not without one last wary glance in Pippin's direction. The Took examined the floor with enthusiasm, blushing madly.

Now, those of the reasonable sort would just forget such an event, a tiny, probably innocuous little wink between two friends. But we are dealing with Pippin here. Pippin is not reasonable. In fact, he is a most unreasonable creature, and curious to boot. Naturally intrigued by what he had seen, he decided to investigate, slipping out of the dining-hall into the dimly-lit hallways of the house of Elrond.

***
"I thought you had decided not to come after all." Aragorn was already under the covers of the huge, luxurious bed, his clothes a jumbled mass on the floor, as Legolas entered the lavish room.

"One of those hobbits saw you wink at me. The little one, Pippin." He was already undressing, kicking off his boots. "Really, you need to learn to be more subtle."

"Don't worry so much. You're probably imagining it, anyway."

"I am not!" Legolas glared at him, simultaneously working the ties of his breeches. A swish as they fell to the ground. "You men, always…" His words were muffled as he fought his tunic up over his head, which made Aragorn suppress a laugh. "…tree!", he finished emphatically. Aragorn nodded in agreeance, mind racing, trying desperately to make some sense of the elf's last sentence. Nothing.

"Just come to bed."

Legolas stood for a moment, gloriously exposed,  his tall, lithe body fairly glowing in the moonlight which spilled into the room through a large window overlooking a terraced balcony.  He desperately tried to hang onto his irritated resolve, but conceded and smiled despite himself, padding over to the far side of the bed and slipping in between the satin sheets.

***
Pippin prowled the hallways, trying to find his bearings in the opulent house, and more importantly trying to remember which chamber had been allocated to Aragorn.

"I know it was around here…" he muttered to himself, examining every door he came to. He stopped to closer inspect the carefully inlaid wood of one in particular, and nodded to himself, reaching his small hand up for the latch.

***
"So, you really think young Pip is on to us?" Aragorn raised his eyebrows amusedly,  reveling in the elf's exaggerated glowering.

"Do you want me to leave. Because don't think I won't." Legolas propped himself up on one elbow, wagging a finger in front of Aragorn's eyes.

"You wouldn't." Aragorn shook his head cockily, tongue playing in the corner of his mouth. Legolas rolled his eyes.

"No, I wouldn't." The elf moved to straddle the man, elven hands pressing his shoulders back into the mattress as he leaned down to kiss him, a screen of blonde hair flowing down, masking both their faces from view.

A sudden creak made them both tense and turn to see the soft light from the hallway outlining a small figure in the doorway. Legolas untangled himself very quickly and made a mad dive under the covers beside Aragorn, only his eyes peeking out. The man sat up quickly, turning to face the door, his legs slung over the edge of the bed and the corner of the sheet bunched into his lap to hide some licentious parts.

"Ah, young Mr. Took." Aragorn prayed in his head that Legolas had concealed himself fast enough to escape the hobbit's prying eyes.

"Hello Strider." Pippin craned his neck to one side. "And Master Legolas if I'm not mistaken." He beamed an overtly friendly smile as Legolas extricated himself from his hiding-place, once again propping up on an elbow. He peered around Aragorn's upper body, grinning uncomfortably, feeling desperately awkward and more than a little irked by the hobbit's untimely presence. He turned onto his back, staring at the ceiling, mentally stabbing Pippin for being such a nuisance.

"We were just…" Aragorn began to stammer, trying to draw inspiration from a close inspection of the floor. "It's cold and we thought…uh…"

"How old do you think I am?" Pippin snorted,  backing up against the door to make the latch catch. "I may look innocent, but I do know a thing or two. I have known my share of the lassies of the shire. Probably more than my share. And I've even tumbled Merry on more than one occasion. Or been tumbled by Merry. It's really hard to tell, I mean, who is the tumbler and who is the tumble-ee, it's all just so…"

"P-Pippin!" Aragorn searched for the right words to end the incoherent ramblings. "What do you want?"

"I dunno…adventure?" Pippin stepped closer to the bed.

"Well you may find what you are looking for tomorrow. Now…"

"You know the proper thing to do would be to just invite me."
"Invite you wher…" It dawned on Aragorn as Pippin wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. The man's mouth dropped open as he realized what was actually being suggested. He stared in mute amazement at the absolute forwardness of the tiny creature before him. Something in Pippin's steady gaze forced him to actually consider the ludicrous proposal.

Legolas hissed something incoherent (that could have been a whispered "no!!") and poked him in the ribs, making him start. And in a flash the decision was made.

"Alright, young Peregrin, if you insist." A sharp elven elbow jabbed painfully into the man's back. He pulled his legs back up onto the bed and glanced fleetingly sideways at Legolas, poking his tongue out with a waggle of his head.

Pippin tore out of his breeches like a flash of lightning, pouncing up onto the bed covered only by his shirt, which admittedly hung to his knees. He stood on the foot of the bed, wide-eyed, looking from man to elf, heart-wrenchingly sweet (at least from the man's perspective).

Aragorn opened his arms towards the little hobbit, who gratefully bounded up for a cuddle, kneeling and wrapping regrettably short arms as far around the man's chest as he could, the smells of woodsmoke and leather entering his nostrils from the exposed skin. The elf watched them with a cool expression.

"Legolas. Please." With his chin propped on top of Pippin's soft curls, Aragorn tried to appeal to the elf who looked as if he might start shooting razor-sharp daggers out of his eyes at any moment.

"Maybe I should just go." As Pippin turned to face Legolas, still on his knees, Aragorn instinctively wrapped an arm around him from behind, keeping the little form close to his chest. "If it's that much trouble,  really."

"No, no. He's just a spoilt, golden elf-prince who doesn't like to share." Only Legolas' learned elf-dignity prevented him from having a tantrum right then. Instead he fixed them both with a unbroken stare, eyes smouldering in the near-dark.

Pippin determinedly broke out of Aragorn's cocoon of protection, stealing across the middle-of-the-bed divide until he was but inches from Legolas. He reached out carefully with both hands to entwine his fingers into his long mass of gold locks, not pulling, just feeling. Legolas was tensed now, every ounce of his concentration focused on not shattering his self-control, lip almost (but not quite) curling up in distaste.

But as Pippin leaned forward to bury his face in the softness and inhale deeply, Legolas melted a little and emitted an amused snort, rather unbecoming an elf I might add.

"So..?" Aragorn pursed his lips in mock anticipation.

"Well,  he is cute." Legolas conceded. Pippin saw his golden opportunity and he seized it, twining his arms around the elf's neck before it could be prevented. He giggled, the sound of a silver flute played on a misty morning. With the speed of a cat, Pippin had the elf snared in a kiss, small hobbit-tongue delicately exploring over polished teeth.

Aragorn watched Legolas' eyes grow wide and then slowly close as he allowed himself to be explored so invasively. He began to chuckle.

"I have ne'er seen a hobbit move so fast" Aragorn said as Pippin finally pulled away. Another giggle.

"Nor have I." Legolas looked a mite flustered, as if the world had suddenly taken on an unreal quality and thrown him off his balance. "Nor…have…I."

Pippin began a meticulous examination of the exposed parts of Legolas (who was still hidden from the waist-down by the sheets), fascinated by the long, tapered fingers, the prominent ribcage, the firm, flat stomach. Legolas managed to stay stock-still, maintaining his regal posture, Pippin's warm little hands slid all over him. Or at least he did until the hobbit, on all fours, pressed his velvety lips to the elf's navel, and pressed his exploratory tongue into the hollow. This sensation, combined with the feathering of the hobbit's eyelashes against his taught skin, tore Legolas' tenuous grip on his composure for good. He arched his back, ragged sigh passing his lips.

"All right, little one." Aragorn, who had been watching patiently,  was abruptly seized by something akin to jealousy. He wrapped his strong hands around Pippin's hips, hauling him up to a standing position. "That's enough (although a glance at Legolas would show us that it was clearly not enough. No,  in fact it had just been getting good…). You invaded our bed, very rudely I might add. So we get to have our fun with you,  not the other way around." He looked slyly at Legolas, who was beginning to get his breath back, inviting him to delicious conspiracy.

"Yes." The elf took the bait. "But first this shirt really must go." Pippin writhed against Aragorn's firm grip, still giggling (what a surprise!),  as Legolas languidly undid buttons. An evil conspiracy was afoot. Aragorn pulled the shirt off the slender shoulders, tossing it blindly off the side of the bed. The cherubic laughter was abruptly silenced by a shiver, the young hobbit not really used to standing buck naked in less-than-warm night air.

"Don't worry love, we won't let you stay cold." Aragorn prodded Pippin down into a lying position on top of the covers. The hobbit's curls spread into a halo around his head as he stared up, angelically and expectantly,  at the two much larger creatures peering down at him.

And the race was on, between man and elf, for who could own the most flawless skin with his hands, who could claim the largest part of this squirming, squealing treasure for his own.  Both traced ribs, pinched nipples and stroked the insides of thighs tormenting and teasing. Pippin radiated heat now, brow breaking with clean sweat as he gasped and writhed, begging for mercy, release, anything.

It was Legolas that finally relented, moving his head down, wrapping his silky lips around Pippin's straining erection. He marveled at it's hardness and the liquid that spilled forth almost immediately, salty, with a hint of something like sweet, summer apples.

Both Legolas and Aragorn began to laugh at the delirious look of wide-eyed surprise that spread across Pippin's face. He sighed, and his blinking became very pronounced, keeping his lids up a fight. He sighed drowsily as his two tormenters snuggled him under the covers and kissed his still-blazing cheeks, already drifting off.

The two stared at each other above their sleeping seraph's head, knowing that as soon as he was well and deeply asleep they would, in all likelihood, sneak off onto the balcony to have their own fun.

All of a sudden Aragorn's brow furrowed as a slight hitch occurred to him. "Those other hobbits will come looking for this one sooner or later."

"Hobbits are small." Legolas shrugged, brushing a stray tress out of his eyes.

Aragorn looked perplexed, not following the curious elven logic.

 Legolas gestured to the ample space around them. "It's a big bed." A not-so -subtle wink.

Fin

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