Title: Retribution
Author: the_mad_Elf_banger@yahoo.com.au
Pairing: Aragorn / Boromir / Legolas
Rating: NC-17
Summary: After the council of Elrond, Aragorn and Boromir 
are rather pissed off at Legolas. They both individually 
want to teach him a lesson but things turn out quite different 
from how they’d imagined.
Disclaimer: All dear Mr. Tolkien’s, not mine.
Warning: Only if you dislike homosexual pairings, but if 
you do, you’re most definitely 
at the wrong address, so get 
lost. Please. Thank you.
Authors Note: I know, not at all what the original 
characters would get up to, but 
so what? Feedback is very 
welcome... 
Special thanks to my beta, Caz. 
I never knew that I wrote such 
a heap of bull... Thank you 
thank you thank you. 





***********************************************************

“This is no mere ranger. He is Aragorn, son of Arathorn. 
You owe him your allegiance.”

Had he known what those three sentences would provoke, the 
prince of Mirkwood may have reconsidered voicing them. Or 
then again, he may not have, either.

***********************************************************





Chapter 1
The Chambers



Aragorn sat in his room, silently sharpening his sword. He 
had hoped to find some distraction in the maintenance of 
his weapon, but his thoughts would not cease returning to 
the council he had attended near on an hour ago.

The Ring of Power was a very pressing matter, demanding 
that it be destroyed as soon as possible, and needless to 
say their company was not ideally manned. Moreover, one of 
the members, Boromir son of Denethor, had shown his longing 
for the Ring right from the beginning, and Aragorn feared 
that it were possible he may present the nearest danger for 
the outcome of their mission.

But notwithstanding those possible threats, neither were 
the cause of his restlessness – that was alone Legolas' 
doing. That the prince of Mirkwood was equally indignant, 
as Aragorn himself, at the Gondorian warrior's freely shown 
want for Sauron's Ring, and his sudden outburst towards 
Aragorn's advice against giving in to the lure of it, did 
not greatly surprise him. Legolas was an Elf and, as all of 
his kin, proud and strong-minded, and the ranger knew that 
had he not raised and spoken no doubt another Elf from his 
company would have interrupted Boromir in his attempts of 
persuading them to use it against the Dark Lord.

But it was his choice of words which now haunted the 
ranger, his pointing out who he really were – the future 
king of Gondor. Legolas could have easily found another way 
of holding back Boromir, without explicitly telling the 
entire assembled council of Aragorn's heirdom, and the 
knowledge that the Elf blurted out his status, which to 
that time had been officially secret, was most unnerving.

Furthermore, the Elven archer did not act as if he believed 
an error occurred on his side, while Aragorn feared that a 
great damage was done concerning Denethor's son. He did not 
trust Boromir, and had not from the start, where he saw him 
before the shrine containing the shards of Narsil, and the 
Gondorian's animosity towards himself, now undoubtedly, was 
even greater than at their first meeting.

Suppressed anger let Aragorn draw the whetstone vigorously 
over the already generously sharpened blade, and he felt 
his intentions of calming down not working as he had hoped. 
With every stroke he grew angrier at the Elf, and at 
himself for his fruitless attempts of ridding his mind of 
the continuously echoing words spoken at the council.

Not only had Legolas spoken where he should have let 
Aragorn himself settle the matter, he had made it sound 
like an announcement, using the title he did not want, and 
letting him look like a celebrity. Words spoken to his 
defence, while he needed nobody to do so for him, and 
Legolas should have known that he felt that way, or he 
would have told them himself.

Where at first he had understood the Mirkwood prince's 
interaction, agreed with his interruption in the two men's 
argument, he could not help but feel displeased at his 
insolence for speaking in his stead, as the situation was 
laden anyhow. Although he could not have known then that 
they would go on the mission together, he had nevertheless 
managed to make it even more difficult with his voicing 
facts that were not his to reveal, as if their quest did 
not already hardly stand a chance to succeed.

Aragorn sighed, and stopped his ministrations. He leaned 
back in his chair and closed his eyes, desperately trying 
to regain his composure. He was totally unfamiliar with so 
little control over himself, and that made it all just a 
little more unbearable.

He was facing a long journey with a warrior who disliked 
him, and longed for the Ring's power. On the pro side, the 
ranger shared a long friendship with Legolas, which should 
help handle the situation, not worsen it. 

Knowing it best to rid himself of any bothersome thoughts 
and feelings before starting on the mission, and that he 
would only succeed when talking to the Elf, Aragorn laid 
aside his sword. Feeling somewhat at ease with the decision 
he still could not keep himself from wondering which steps 
might be necessary to persuade Legolas from any more such 
actions, as he stepped out into the corridor.

***********************************************************

Meanwhile the son of Denethor paced wildly up and down in 
his chambers. He could not find the peace of mind to sit 
and ponder the situation and the way things had developed 
during the council.

He had sensed a superior air about Aragorn when they met 
the previous evening, and had felt his staring at him as he 
regarded both the painting of Isildur and the shards of his 
mighty sword in the shrine. Now that he knew that the 
grubby ranger was Isildur's heir, and would claim what 
rightfully should be his, he disliked him even more. There 
had been a long line of stewards in Gondor for several 
generations without the need of a king, and he felt that 
had not changed. Apart from that, the other man acted so 
much like an Elf he had no right to become king of men, if 
he did not consider himself amongst mankind. 

Furthermore, he had neither the courage nor the decency of 
informing them of his true heritage himself, but had his 
pet Elf do it for him. Boromir could still vividly see the 
slender form of Legolas before him, as he stood so 
suddenly, so full of himself as he spoke of Aragorn, as if 
the ranger were the most important person in Middle-Earth. 
The proud look on his face showed nothing less than disgust 
for Boromir, and the sublimity of the Elven race compared 
to him, while addressing him as if he were a child.

It had been long years since anybody had treated him 
thusly, and he felt outraged that an Elf would have the 
nerve to do so in front of an assembly. Especially when 
said Elf was so quick to obey the order of the ranger. 
Although Boromir did not understand the words spoken in 
Elvish, Legolas had retorted nothing and returned to his 
seat immediately.

Boromir swung his fist wildly through the air while 
continuing his pacing. He was so furious at Legolas for his 
rude snapping at him, and the longer he thought about it, 
the more he became certain that the relationship between 
the ranger and the wood-Elf exceeded mere friendship. He 
had heard rumours about the perverse way Elves were openly 
prepared to share their bed with either sex, and judging by 
the facts that Aragorn had been raised by Elves and was 
permanently in their company, the Gondorian felt he stood 
good chances to be right with his assumptions.

If possible, he was even more disgruntled after making up 
his mind about that matter, and although his anger should 
have also been projected towards the man as he was the 
releaser for all the trouble, he found himself fuming 
mainly because of the Elf. After the little presentation of 
his readiness to do as the ranger told him, he had sunk 
even lower in Boromir's esteem. Furthermore, he had dared 
to correct him in front of all the members of the council, 
in a manner that was highly unbecoming for a respectable 
warrior like himself. 

"That Elf needs a lesson in manners," Boromir muttered to 
himself, while pacing ceaselessly in front of the window, 
"and I should much like to be the one to teach him."

Just then he noticed a figure leave the house and head 
towards the forest, and looking closer, Boromir found it to 
be just the archer causing his bothersome thoughts. His 
gaze followed him, curious whom he would meet, but the Elf 
continued alone, not stopping to wait for or joining anyone 
along the path.

Sensing that now was maybe his last chance to find the Elf 
without company, in his mind putting an emphasis especially 
on company of the ranger, Boromir quickly left his room and 
rushed to follow the archer. He was eager to let him know 
how wrong his judgement of him was, if he believed he could 
treat an important warrior like him in such a manner and go 
unpunished.

***********************************************************

At the same time, in another room of the Last Homely House, 
Legolas lay peacefully on his bed, hands neatly folded on 
his stomach. Oblivious to the feelings his words at the 
council of Elrond had provoked in the two men, he had spent 
the last hour regenerating himself in the Elven form of 
sleep, with his eyes open and his mind wandering freely, 
completely at ease with himself and his surroundings.

After the meeting he had returned to his chamber with no 
bigger plans in mind, and as their quest was to begin in 
only a few short days time, the Elven prince decided he 
would treat himself to a quiet time-out before. The end of 
their mission, considered they should manage to do what 
they set out to do, was unforeseeable, and the prospects on 
the way where he would be able to tend to himself were 
rather poor, to say the least, also because their success 
was more important than their personal well-being.

Taking all those facts together, Legolas decided to go down 
to the hidden lake in the forest behind the house of Lord 
Elrond for a refreshing soak, but only after a little nap.

Waking up from his sleep, the blond archer sat up and 
stretched leisurely. He swung his legs over the edge of the 
bed and went over to the table where he sat down gracefully 
on a chair. Taking up a brush he began stroking the tangles 
out of his shiny hair and re-plaited his braids. Talented 
fingers needed no longer than a few minutes to fulfil that 
task, and getting up he reached for his jerkin, having 
placed it over the back of the chair when he had first 
entered the room.

Legolas swiftly got into the close-fitting green garment, 
and headed towards the door. His mind was running before 
him as he placed one foot quietly before the other, seeing 
in his mind the still surface of the water which would soon 
open up for his body and become the source of peacefulness 
for this afternoon, away from disturbances and allowing him 
to forget the matter of the Ring for a few hours.




<OK, I agree, not much happening yet, but that’s the thing 
about prologues, isn’t it. Be patient cos there’s better to 
come ...>


Chapter 2
Setting out



Legolas had only made a few steps into the forest when he 
heard two Elves coming towards him, talking softly, and he 
recognised the voices of Elladan and Elrohir, Lord Elrond's 
twin sons. He smiled to himself, wondering what indecency 
they had been busy with to bring them to such high spirits, 
as the clear ringing of their laughter reached his ears.

“Legolas,” he heard one of them call, “where are you 
heading to, all alone? 'Tis a shame not to share your 
charming company with others.”

A moment later the two brothers emerged from between the 
trees and stood before the Elf prince, their dark hair 
still damp and wetting the necks and shoulders of their 
tunics.

“I am seeking the lake,” Legolas answered, “and I consider 
myself lucky as you have seemingly finished your bathing 
and I will find it no longer occupied.”

“That, my dear Prince, I do not call luck,” Elrohir said. 
“You have just missed out on a exquisite massage from 
Elladan, who has the most talented hands in Imladris.”

“I thought your father held that title,” the archer replied 
slyly.

The ebony-haired Elves laughed, and Elladan said, turning 
serious again, and with a meaningful look on his face, “I 
would greatly appreciate you finding out for yourself.”

“Aye, we both would,” Elrohir added, laying his arm around 
his brother's shoulder, and closing in on the fair Elf.

Legolas raised an eyebrow at hearing that, but did not back 
away. “Are you trying to seduce me?”

“As if we would have the nerve to do something in the likes 
of that!” Elrohir said, forcing a shocked expression onto 
his face. “It was merely an offer, and one for you to 
decide your reactions as you see fit.”

“But I do not really have a choice,” Legolas continued, 
more to himself than to the other Elves. “And I would feel 
rather imprudent casting such an opportunity aside.”

Elladan smiled, and leaned back against the chest of his 
brother while eyeing Legolas admiringly. “You most surely 
live up to your reputation of a not only stunningly 
beautiful but also very wise Elf. I am very much looking 
forward to our next meeting, hopefully in a less ... 
dressed manner.”

“I would rather not put it off for too long, though, as you 
will be leaving soon,” Elrohir thought aloud. “How would 
tomorrow suit you, at this time at the lake?”

“Very well,” Legolas answered, “I will be there.”

“Undressed,” Elladan added smiling.

“With as much or as little clothing as you,” he retorted, 
“lest there be any unwanted disadvantages meddling our 
plans.”

Having decided the next day's program, Legolas continued 
his way into the forest, leaving the brothers to take the 
path back to the house, with the clear voices of the ebony-
haired couple lingering in the air, as well as in the 
prince's mind.

***********************************************************

“Just you wait,” Boromir muttered to himself. “I will teach 
you the correct manners to show towards the next Stewart of 
Gondor.”

With long strides he crossed the entrance hall and stepped 
out into the bright afternoon sun. The Elf was nowhere to 
be seen, but he remembered the path he had seen him take 
from his room, and followed it into the slightly gloomy 
forest.

The warrior had just left the clear open behind him when he 
nearly ran into two Elves, exactly identical and not making 
a sound even on the uneven forest floor. Boromir looked up 
angrily and shoved past them, not granting them a single 
word of either apology or greeting. He did not have the 
time for courtesies and had just glimpsed a fleeting look 
of the green tunic his pray was wearing before vanishing 
between the trees.

“Damn those Elves”, he continued his mumbling. “Decent folk 
do not sneak around like that.”

Quickening his pace, he hurried after him, not even trying 
to keep his step quiet, as he knew he would be heard even 
if he did his best to tread softly. Apart from that he was 
much too upset to worry about that as well, and simply 
barged through the trees without loosing eye contact with 
the slender form ahead of him.

***********************************************************

When Aragorn entered the main entrance hall, he saw Boromir 
ahead of him, hastily leaving the room. By the looks of it, 
he was talking to himself, wildly gesticulating with his 
arms in the air.

He wondered where the son of Gondor was going to, as he 
hadn’t been to Rivendell before and knew nothing of the 
mostly hidden places his foster father’s realm had to 
offer. But his mind was otherwise occupied as to ponder the 
riddle of Boromir’s intentions, and followed the man into 
the open. Aragorn was sure he would find the Elf somewhere 
in the garden, for the connection between nature and the 
fair kindred held the most solace and peace Legolas was 
bound to look for before setting out on their mission.

Aragorn had only just turned to make for the direction of 
the gardens when he saw two familiar looking Elves coming 
out of the forest towards him, one leaning on the shoulders 
of the other. Going by their laughter they were in 
especially good mood, and feeling he could do with some 
brotherly encouragement, he stopped and waited for them to 
meet with him.

“What mischief, pray tell, would you be up to?” the man 
asked, raising an eyebrow, seeing the broad smiles over the 
Elves’ fair faces.

“You always adopt the most dramatic thoughts towards our 
pass-times,” Elladan said, still smiling. “I know not 
whether to think that a compliment to our ingenuity or an 
insult to our modesty.”

“Modesty, I believe, is a word utterly unemployable when 
referring to you,” Aragorn replied, a smile breaking over 
his features, also.

Elrohir snorted a laugh. “Aye, you may be right. But what 
are your plans for this beautiful afternoon? And, more 
importantly, what caused you to wear such a bitter frown 
just a moment ago?”

Aragorn paused before answering too quickly. He had not 
been aware of showing his distress so clearly, and was not 
sure whether he wanted to inform his brothers of the whole 
affair, as they would most likely misinterpret the 
situation, and turn it into something much more amusing in 
their eyes.

Instead of revealing his thoughts, he asked, “You have not 
per chance met Legolas of late?”

Astonished the man witnessed a short smile shared among the 
dark Elves before Elrohir answered, “Aye, we did. ‘Twas 
mere minutes ago when we talked to him.”

“You do not happen to know where he is now?” Aragorn 
inquired further.

Now it was the Elves’ turn to raise eyebrows. “As a matter 
of fact, we do,” Elladan answered. “But just what would be 
your reasons for looking for him?”

“I am aware of the direction your thoughts must be taking 
at hearing this, but I assure you it has nothing to do with 
matters you usually engage in,” the mortal replied, growing 
slightly annoyed at where the conversation was headed as he 
had feared something like it before he confessed his 
search. “I merely want to talk to him.”

“I have always thought you talked too much, dear brother,” 
Elladan smiled, but was interrupted by Elrohir, a fake 
touch of indignation tinting his voice. “What do you mean 
with *matters we usually engage in*? I am sorry, but I do 
not understand the meaning of your insinuations.”

Aragorn sighed and looked at the two identical Elves with 
growing sureness that they were successfully wasting his 
time and not helping him at all.

Reassured by their previous flirt with the Mirkwood Elf, 
Elladan decided to tempt his mortal brother with some of 
their so-called unbecoming activities. He stepped close to 
him, and said in a low conspiring manner, “We met him on 
his way to the lake. To have a bath, and soak his sore 
limbs. Completely nude, only with nature to accompany him.”

The other Elf soon understood what his minutely elder 
sibling had in mind, and added, his voice no more than a 
whisper, “And as far as I could see he did not even bother 
to bring a towel and will have to sun-dry. A cruel display 
of irresponsibility, do you not think?” 

Aragorn felt himself blush and could not help but feel his 
stomach stir at the picture manifesting in his mind of a 
wet Legolas letting the sun lick the drops off his skin. He 
shook his head determinedly to chase away that vision, and 
was angrier at himself for reacting thusly as at his 
brothers who were just behaving like they always did. 
Seemingly everything they ever did or spoke about was 
related to sexual topics, and he should be used to it by 
now.

Trying desperately to keep a calm appearance, he managed to 
growl only softly, “I thank you ever so much for your 
cooperation.”

Elladan laughed at his grim facial expression, and replied 
lightly, “I believe we now have earned ourselves a favor 
for helping, but of course not exceeding its worth.”

“No need to fret,” his brother put in, “it will only be a 
small favor.”

Aragorn sighed, and prepared himself mentally awaiting 
their no doubt unsuitable conditions.

“Do tell us about your meeting with the fair prince,” 
Elladan continued. “You would make ever the gorgeous 
couple.”

“What? I cannot believe what are you suggesting!” the man 
burst out rather taken aback. “I do not ... and Legolas 
would neither ... you two are really ...” he stammered 
incoherently. His brothers fooling around was one thing, 
but getting him involved in the same indecent relationships 
was mere effrontery.

Elrohir smiled sidewise at his twin, then addressed 
Aragorn, winking meaningfully, “You may be quite mistaken 
concerning Legolas’ preferences, dear brother.”

He paused and let the ranger absorb his last words before 
continuing in a more earnest manner, “Do not let prejudices 
smite what has not yet had the chance to develop.”

Aragorn frowned, and opened his mouth to reply, but found 
Elladan’s forefinger coming to his lips, silencing him. 
“Have fun, brother,” the ebony-haired Elf said, “and do not 
forget to let us in on some detail.”

With that, the Elves turned and took up their walking 
towards the house with their arms linked, and leaving the 
ranger in a rather confused state of mind. Aragorn felt 
certain that Elladan and Elrohir could not have spoken true 
with their last statement, but as much as he wanted to 
believe that, his brothers were no liars, even though he 
could not imagine the prince of Mirkwood finding enjoyment 
in activities they had tried to assure him of just now.

He nevertheless felt that highly inappropriate stir in his 
stomach again when images of the fair Elf flashed up in his 
head, and had to force himself not to think of him in such 
a way – Legolas was his friend, and moreover, he had never 
before had such strange feelings towards a male, and did 
not particularly think it appropriate, heedless of his 
brothers' view to that subject.

With his feelings in an even greater uproar than before he 
guided his steps towards the forest, completely unsure of 
how he was to handle the problem at hand. Not only had he 
to find appropriate words to convince Legolas of his erring 
at the council, whereas he did not even know where to begin 
the conversation, now he had simultaneously to keep his 
minds from wandering in the direction of the sight the 
naked Elf would offer.

***********************************************************

Legolas parted from the two Rivendell-Elves in good humour, 
and let his thoughts drift now not only to the peaceful 
solitude of the hidden lake, but also to the pleasures he 
would find in the hands of the twins. In all his years he 
had bedded many Elves, who were a naturally good looking 
folk, but the fact that Elrond’s sons were so much alike 
provided him with even greater joy when dreaming of their 
planned get-together.

But his thoughts were soon disturbed by a loud crashing 
through the undergrowth behind him, and the prince of 
Mirkwood glanced over his shoulder wonderingly. What 
creature could possibly cause so much noise, barging ahead 
with no consideration for the destruction of nature’s 
beauty?

Of course. A man.

Boromir son of Denethor was storming in his direction, and 
visibly furious. His hands were clenched to fists and the 
Elf’s ears could clearly perceive grumbled mutterings, 
although his words seemed not to make much sense, but were 
generally insults towards the Elven race.

Legolas characteristically raised an eyebrow in 
astonishment, but chose not to fathom what had caused the 
Gondorian to take on such a fowl temper. Instead, he 
started into a light run, the impact his soft boots made 
with the ground still completely soundless, and soon the 
human’s grumbling behind him faded into nothing.

***********************************************************

Boromir stopped short in his tracks, and looked around. The 
Elf had vanished from his vision, and of course without any 
audible signs of to where he should look for him.

“You blasted rotten damn Elf!” he shouted, and kicked 
furiously against the next tree in his reach. The sudden 
pain in his foot made him draw in his breath, and he 
grumbled through gritted teeth, “Just you wait till I get 
my hands on you, and you will be sorry. Oh, you will be so 
sorry ...”

He trudged on, unable to find the way Legolas had taken – 
there were no broken branches nor imprints on the ground, 
due to the fashion of the fair kindred to pass by 
unnoticed. The only sounds to be heard were made by 
himself.

***********************************************************

His footfall nearly as light as that of an Elf, the ranger 
made his way through the forest. He knew it was useless to 
look out for Legolas, for he would not only be far ahead, 
but also too quiet for even his, compared to other human’s, 
sharpened senses, and furthermore, he knew where he would 
finally catch up with him.

Having grown up in Rivendell, he knew the way to the quite 
hidden lake, but this time he had to concentrate hard on 
finding the path he had used so often over the years. 
Nothing he tried would stop the disturbing pictures of the 
blond Elf popping up in his mind, and despite all his 
efforts he found his thoughts returning to him lying 
stretched out in the sun, or floating peacefully in the 
water, with lazy waves lapping up around his slender body, 
caressing him softly with nature’s slow movements ...

Cursing himself and wondering whether sick minds could be 
hereditary without the need of being directly related by 
blood, or maybe even contagious, and he had picked up 
something weird from Elladan and Elrohir a few minutes 
earlier, he suddenly heard a noise to his left.

He could clearly hear somebody, or something, trampling 
along not far away. Whatever it was, it was making a 
tremendous din, and Aragorn was about to reach for his 
sword in defence, when he realised he had left it in his 
chamber.

***********************************************************

The tall trees slowly grew less dense before opening into a 
clearing. With its surface glimmering in the afternoon sun 
the lake lay before him, completely still, and Legolas was 
so eager to let its calmness engulf his body that he 
momentarily forgot even the prospects the following day 
held for him and the appalling twins, as well as the 
peculiar acting man he had seen on his way - although in 
his opinion all men had a natural tendency to acting weird.

He quickly discarded his clothing and placed them in a neat 
pile at the edge of the lake. He folded them carefully, for 
even though he longed to get into the water he saw no 
reason in having to walk back to the house crinkled. 

The only sound breaking the quietness were the birds 
whistling in the trees, and as the blond archer stepped 
into the water, he believed himself in the utmost possible 
state of well-being. Swimming slowly towards the centre of 
the lake where a big rock stood a good three feet above the 
surface Legolas relished the feeling the cold water 
combined with the warmth of the sun had on his skin.

He circled around the rock once, and then settled himself 
against it, facing the sun. Holding his body up with his 
arms stretched out sidewise on the stone he closed his eyes 
and tread water, permitting his thoughts to return to the 
more active matters he would be engaging in this time 
tomorrow.

***********************************************************


Just as Aragorn began arguing with himself as to whether to 
proceed towards the unknown source of disturbance without a 
weapon, and rely on the advantage the element of surprise 
his sudden appearance would grant him, or stay back to 
watch whence the stranger would go, he heard said stranger 
grumble something about “damn androgynous Elves”.

Boromir.

‘What in the name of the Valar is he doing alone in the 
forest?’ Aragorn thought to himself. ‘By the looks of it, 
getting lost.’

With the situation having suddenly relaxed, he chuckled 
softly to himself, and decided to offer the warrior his 
help to get back to the house. Walking towards him, he 
called out, “Boromir, are you looking for something?”

The Gondorian raised his head in surprise and glanced at 
the man addressing him, but his astonishment was soon 
replaced by comprehension once looking into Aragorn's face. 
He had not heard anyone coming near, and this ranger had 
adopted the same habit of sneaking around from his weird 
Elven foster family.

“What is that to you?” he growled. His anger at the Elf had 
been ever increasing since he had lost both track of his 
prey and of the path, and now he had very much reached the 
highest possible degree of agitation and felt it would not 
take much more to cause an emotional outburst. And Boromir 
thought that if this awful Elf-man would cop it, it was 
absolutely acceptable.

Aragorn was somewhat unsettled at being talked to so 
aggressively, and answered in a what he hoped was a 
diplomatic manner, “I just thought you might accept a guide 
in a forest foreign to you.”

The other man grunted his disapproval, annoyed at how the 
ranger had managed not to let it sound like he was in need 
for aid. “What are you doing here anyway? Most likely 
getting lost yourself,” he grumbled.

“Nay, that I am not”, the ranger replied, and, to ease the 
tension between them, added, “Should you really care to 
know, I am on my way to meet Legolas.” All right, Legolas 
did not yet know of his luck, but there was no need to be 
too honest, was there?

That only sent another disparaging sound over the warrior's 
lips. “Going to bang your compliant little pet Elf, eh?” he 
asked, a dangerously soft tinge to his voice. He had known 
it all along anyway, three cheers for Gondorian 
predictions.

“What?” Aragorn choked out. That was the second accusation 
of that kind on the same day, and he could really not think 
of a reason for everybody to think that of him. Apart from 
that, he could live with it coming from his brothers, but 
it was absolutely none of Boromir's business! 

He forced his voice to stay calm when retorting, “Whence 
you get such ideas I honestly do not know and I would 
rather you keep them to yourself should you have more of 
the kind to offer. I have nothing of the sort in mind.”

“Of course not.” Boromir's voice was by now dripping with 
sarcasm. “It was only by sheer coincidence that he set out 
for a walk on his own, into the most remote place of the 
entire wood.”

The words were spoken before Boromir realised what he had 
said. He desperately hoped the other man would not notice 
his mistake, and rather rant along and, as before, disclaim 
any such intentions.

But unfortunately, he did not.

“So that is the reason you ended up lost, is it? You 
followed him and he did not appreciate your company and 
decided to get rid of his bothersome appendage?” Aragorn 
said, growing rather amused at the thought.

Boromir on the other hand did not in the least like the 
idea of being laughed at by a crazy Elf-lover, who 
furthermore did not even admit such a most obvious fact. 
But Aragorn showed no signs as to intending to stop his 
questions.

“Why did you run after him in the first place? To have 
yourself a poke with our fair companion before departing? 
Did the prospects of our mission remind you of all the 
beautiful maidens you would not be able to get your hands 
on during that length of time? Did you just want to let off 
some pent up desires, and assumed the Elf prince’s beauty 
would aid yourself into easily imagining yourself in the 
arms of a woman?” his voice grew steadily louder as he 
worked himself up to the idea which had manifested in his 
mind, and he was more offended by the thought than he at 
first would have admitted to himself. 

The other man knew for a fact that he really was full of 
pent up feelings, but surely not in the likes of those the 
ranger accused him of having. Gritting his teeth he stepped 
up to Aragorn, shaking with suppressed anger, and spat, “Do 
not dare project your sick tendencies onto me, ranger. You 
would screw that Elf before I had the chance to turn away 
to spare myself the sight.”

“Watch your tongue, you know not what you are talking,” 
Aragorn answered, moving closer to the Gondorian until 
their chests nearly touched and they were growling directly 
into each other’s faces. 

“Excuse me very much, but would you mind stop talking of me 
in the third person, as if I were not present?” a melodious 
voice remarked calmly from behind them.




Chapter 3
Unforeseen Changes in Plans



Both men froze on the spot, and Aragorn rolled his eyes at 
himself for not noticing how close they had come to the 
lake. The Elf must have heard every word that had passed 
between them, and the Valar only knew why he had kept 
silent until now. ‘Most possibly out of sheer curiosity at 
the display of human stupidity we offered him’, he thought, 
kicking himself mentally.

“I did come here to find some peace, you know,” Legolas 
called out, “and your shouting has completely destroyed the 
calm atmosphere. So either come and get it over with, or 
please leave.”

Aragorn sighed, and lead the way between the trees towards 
the clearing. The Gondorian followed him, silently cursing 
himself for coming so close to his goal without knowing and 
running into this very annoying ranger.

He nearly bumped into the man in front of him and, raising 
his eyes, he understood what had caused the other to stop 
short in his tracks. Before his eyes lay a lake, with 
hardly any ripples disturbing its still surface, and in the 
very centre was the Elf, resting against a large rock. His 
arms on the stone shone with wetness, as did the visible 
upper part of his chest, and his golden hair showed the 
natural wildness after being dried in the sun, tangled and 
with the braids partly undone, so seldom seen on Elves.

“Well now, what is bothering you?” Legolas asked.

Aragorn found himself at a total loss for words, as he 
stared at the gorgeous being before him. Without even the 
slightest attempt to try not to, his eyes wandered all over 
the Elf's exposed body, inevitably coming to rest on his 
hidden sex, as if he could make the water vanish by sheer 
willpower.

Seeing as the ranger obviously was too busy drooling, 
Boromir seized the opportunity and began to speak. “I was 
seeking your attention to discuss the subject of keeping up 
our acquaintance in future,” he started rather formally.

The prince of Mirkwood could not leave his eyebrows to 
rest. “What would you like to discuss in that matter?”

“What would I-?” the warrior began, growing annoyed at the 
way the Elf pretended not to understand. “I am not used to 
being treated as an inferior, and I have no intentions to 
accept your doing so. I demand you to leave your usual 
disparaging attitude behind when dealing with me.”

Legolas shrugged his shoulders, and answered calmly, “If 
you feel you have been treated in an unjust manner, I am 
sorry. I hope my previous actions have done nothing to 
endanger our future relationship.” Mortals were so easily 
offended, he thought it no great wonderment that Elves 
tended to stay amongst themselves whenever they had the 
chance.

Boromir opened his mouth to return a sharp remark, but 
finding the Elf so obliging, remained quiet. As did the man 
next to him, who had seemingly forgotten why he had come, 
and was content with staring at the bathing archer.

The latter finally broke the silence, and having noticed 
right from the start the way the ranger was looking at him, 
proposed softly, “You as well might continue your keeping 
quiet in here - the water is just fabulous.”

“Aye, that would certainly be just to the ranger's liking,” 
Boromir muttered with a sidelong glance at the man.

Hearing the Gondorian speak of him, although as usual 
rather impolitely, Aragorn snapped out of his reverie. 
Uselessly he hoped that he had not been too obviously 
staring, and said, “I did never indicate anything of that 
kind, 'twas mere delusions on your part -”

“Do not act as if I were a fool,” Boromir snapped. “I 
believe what I see. And you,” at that, he pointed a finger 
meaningfully at the other man, “are nearly causing the lake 
to overflow with your drooling.”

“Who do you think you are, accusing me of-” Aragorn began, 
but was quickly interrupted.

“Those are no accusations! You have the hots for him, it is 
most sickeningly obvious! I at least am not so damn 
secretive about my intentions! I planned to set things 
right with him, and-”

For the second time that day, he noticed he had let the 
proverbial cat out of the bag, and he groaned in 
desperation at his bad temper.

“So you wanted to teach me a lesson?” Legolas asked, 
shifting his position into a more comfortable one, his 
voice tingling with interest. “Because of my intolerable 
superiority towards you?” He giggled suddenly, as he proved 
himself right yet again about the prissy humans.

“And what were your reasons, Aragorn?” he asked, turning 
his attention towards the other man, who could not manage 
to get himself under control, no matter how determinedly he 
claimed the opposite. “What did I do to you to enrage you 
so much to come here and burst in on me during my bath?”

The ranger rather atypically began to stammer something 
about having forgotten, not finding any appropriate words 
and feeling an utter fool for having overreacted so 
childishly.

The blond Elf looked from one to the other, and could not 
help but laugh at the sight of two grown men behaving so 
immature. “You had better start your teaching, because up 
until now I have learned absolutely nothing. Unless you 
care to count a rather pathetic exhibition of stubbornness 
and raging anger. Oh, and badly concealed desire,” he 
added, with a smirk towards Aragorn, who blushed madly and 
began to study the ground at his feet.

“Could you stop that!” Boromir burst out. “I am no child, 
so do not talk to me as if it were so!”

“I am awfully sorry,” Legolas said, while very obviously 
not meaning it at all. “Your behaviour did not greatly 
provide me with proof of your maturity.”

“And your arrogant behaviour will one day cause you more 
problems than any human wrath could do, even to those 
particularly in danger of throwing fits of rage!” the 
warrior shouted.

“Pray tell, of what kind would those problems be?” the Elf 
inquired, a queer smile spreading over his fair features. 
“How would you keep me from acting so unfairly superior 
towards you?”

“I did not in particular speak of myself as the bearer of 
your personal sticky end,” Boromir answered uneasily, 
trying to talk himself out of the mess he had inflicted 
upon himself.

“Aye, but please go on. What would you do to me to make me 
succumb to your wishes?” the Elf continued, greatly 
enjoying himself in the role of the inflictor of situations 
upon the two men where they felt helpless.

Aragorn and Boromir exchanged a quick glance as they both 
wondered what the archer had in mind, his questions 
apparently heading nowhere. Looking back at Legolas, they 
saw that he had left the centre, and was swimming 
gracefully towards them.

The ranger could not take his eyes off the slender shape of 
the Elf slowly coming out of the water. Once he came near 
enough to the shore to stand, he walked up to them, and the 
sight of his body being released by the water nearly caused 
Aragorn forgetting to breathe.

He was smooth, perfect, immaculate. And completely naked. 
The picture which had haunted him from the moment his 
brothers had spoken of him, did not reach the true beauty 
he was offered now by far.

“If you were to be the bearer, what would your message be?” 
Legolas asked softly while coming close enough to the 
gondorian warrior to look him eye to eye.

Boromir shifted uneasily under the Elf's scrutinizing gaze, 
not to mention the unfamiliar proximity with his naked 
body.

“You would surely use these large hands to fortify your 
tidings, would you not?” he asked further, taking one into 
both his own. “Mere talking does just not sound like you.”

“What in all of Middle-Earth are you going on about?” 
Boromir gasped, snatching back his hand, completely 
confused.

Slowly, the archer pulled up his eyebrow again. “Do not 
pretend you are not attracted towards me, I know you are. 
As is our ranger,” he said, glancing over to Aragorn, who 
had taken to staring all over again, “even if he tends to 
show it in a more clear way than you do.”

Aghast, Boromir stepped back. “How dare you compare me with 
him,” he barked. “I am no Elf-lover as he, take my word on 
it. And you can be as starkers as you like, nothing will 
change my opinion in that matter!”

“Is that so? Well, then our ranger definitely proves a more 
delicate taste than you,” Legolas smiled sweetly. “And, 
besides, your words belie you, son of Gondor. I can see you 
growing hard even through your trousers.”

A sharp intake of breath let them know that the ranger was 
still there, and most vigilantly paying attention, while 
Boromir did not at all enjoy being the centre of 
attraction. “Choose carefully whom you throw yourself at, 
you just might come across someone who will not fall for 
you,” he growled, trying a dangerous touch, but in the 
present situation it sounded more like a lustful moan.

“And if I were to check, would I have to learn that you 
were lying to me?” Legolas answered, his voice no more than 
a husky whisper as he closed the distance between himself 
and the man.

Boromir felt his breath quicken, as he held the Elf's gaze. 
His next words were no more than a whisper. “You would not 
dare.”

He knew that the blond archer had won as he felt a hand 
reach between his legs, where his private parts had 
miraculously developed a life of their own and were doing 
just what the Elf had predicted. But quite astonishingly, 
he did not mind being lectured this time, and as the Elf 
gently increased the pressure with his fingers, he closed 
his eyes and let out a soft moan.

Legolas smiled slyly as the expression on the man's face 
changed from worry and strain to delight, and he moved his 
fingers along the hardening shaft hidden under the thick 
cloth of the trousers.

Aragorn watched awestruck as the Elf touched the other man 
so intimately. At first he honestly believed such feelings 
inadequate, but right now he could not think of anything 
more natural. And, what more, he was jealous and frustrated 
that the stirring in his own loins should pass by unnoticed 
and uncared for.

He felt even more left out as Boromir let his hands trail 
over the Elf's body, beginning rather gingerly at the hips, 
and moving higher over tight stomach and smooth chest 
towards strangely broad shoulders, slowly venturing into a 
firmer touch.

Enjoying the gentle way the man's hands stroked over his 
body, he looked over to the third member of their group. He 
reached out a hand towards him and asked, “Would you not 
care to join us here, handsome?”

The ranger blushed lightly at the name he had been given, 
but did not wait to be asked a second time. He took hold of 
the offered hand, and moved up to the two closely entwined 
bodies. He let his free hand rest shortly on the small of 
the archer's back before gently sliding down to the 
enticing curve of his behind.

“You are quite the beauty,” he said, looking deeply into 
the Elf's eyes.

Legolas smiled most alluringly. “Aye, that I have heard 
once or twice before. Rumours say that may be the reason 
why I always get what my heart desires.”

He leaned close and kissed the man on the lips. Softly at 
first, but steadily growing more passionately, while 
removing his hand from Boromir's groin, to fill the gap 
between them with his body. Leaning fully against one man, 
and kissing another, the prince of Mirkwood believed he had 
finally uncovered the mystery about what mortals were 
really good at.

Boromir looked up as he saw them engage in a heated kiss, 
and decided it was high time for himself to taste the Elf. 
Very rudely he interrupted them, and turned Legolas' face 
around to claim his lips himself. They were impossibly soft 
and his tongue never once stopped its exploring of his 
mouth, and he had the feeling the Elf could go on forever, 
had he not himself needed some air before continuing.

Meanwhile, the ranger did not take any offence that Boromir 
had taken over, but moved behind the fair being instead. He 
ground his hips in slow deliberate movements against 
Legolas' backside, letting him feel his growing arousal.

Legolas himself was delighted to be in the middle of a 
sandwich, and let out a low sigh at the feeling of two 
equally aroused manhoods pressing against him. Though, it 
was rather bothersome that they were both still very 
clothed.

He thought he would best begin to change that, and stopped 
his hands from roaming over the warrior's body. Instead he 
reached under the tunic to the openings of the constrictive 
trousers.

Boromir involuntarily broke their kiss, but the knowledge 
of where the Elf's nimble fingers were headed urged him to 
even harsher breathing. Besides, he was too acquainted with 
the many hindering hooks and eyes, clasps and belts the 
dressmaker had found necessary when tailoring his outfit to 
believe they could be opened with only half one's attention 
– even if the one happened to be an Elf.

Sighing, he stepped back to tackle the problem himself, and 
did his best to shed the lot swiftly, without tearing it in 
the process.

Aragorn had overseen the beginning procedure of clothes-
shedding and was grateful that the only opening on his 
tunic was a lacing at its front. He quickly loosened it, 
and tore the piece of clothing over his head, kicking his 
boots off his feet at the same time.

Thusly, when the Elf turned around, as the other man would 
visibly be busy for quite some time, he met with an 
impressively half naked ranger.

“Why, you are a very appealing sight yourself,” he said, a 
light smile on his lips. “For a man, very much so.”

Aragorn returned his smile, though felt rather awkward as 
the archer studied his body. When the Elf then sank to his 
knees in front of him, he simultaneously longed for 
discarding his trousers, and dreaded the moment of 
revelation, all of a sudden, and for the first time in his 
life, self-conscious.

But Legolas was audibly content with what he found when 
pulling the ranger's leggings down over his well-muscled 
legs. He sighed his approval while aiding the man out of 
the garment, and placed a soft kiss on Aragorn's stomach, 
just below his navel.

He had wilfully not yet touched the straining arousal which 
was already crying somewhat for attention, but teased the 
man further with easily brushing against it with the hollow 
of his throat whilst moving higher.

Aragorn moaned heavily at the pleasures the Elf inflicted 
upon him, and once he had finished his journey of kisses 
over his torso, he found his moans swallowed in the fair 
beauty's tender mouth. The ranger closed his arms around 
his shoulders, and suddenly felt his hands come in contact 
with the hairy chest of Boromir.

The Gondorian had finally finished getting out of his 
clothing and had joined them again, finding their positions 
had changed so that he was now confronted with the Elf's 
appealing behind. Then he suddenly felt his future king's 
mouth upon his own, kissing him over the Elf's shoulder, 
and urging them even closer together.

At feeling the man on the other side of the Elven archer, 
Aragorn had decided it high time to officially pronounce it 
a three-way meeting. And although he had rather not parted 
with Legolas, the warrior proved a good substitute, and not 
at all prepared to lose a battle, not even if its only 
participants were their tongues.

The centre of the Elf sandwich however, was feeling the 
need for a bit more action, regardless of how enhancing his 
present position was, and also that the men had momentarily 
laid aside their previous disparity of views. Aragorn's 
hands had paused their skimming over his body, and were now 
busy in tweaking his nipples, and the Gondorian was 
embracing him tightly while exploring the hairiness of the 
ranger's chest accompanied by his own fingers. Reaching 
behind, he took hold of Boromir's throbbing member, 
gripping it harder than necessary to get his attention.

The man quickly stopped his attack on Aragorn's mouth, even 
if he thusly admitted losing the contest, and rested his 
forehead on the Elf's shoulder, breathing heavily.

“Would you not share yourself with another?” Legolas 
breathed seductively, “if he asked you nicely?”

Aragorn caught a glance from the Elf, and grinned. Winking 
at the archer, he took hold of Boromir's hand and slowly 
slipped one finger into his mouth. While he sucked it to 
wetness, the moans from the warrior increased, and he 
started pumping into Legolas' hand, but he was rewarded by 
a very unimpressed squeeze to his cock, hard enough to 
hurt.

“Do not hurry things,” he said sweetly, “we have nearly 
finished the preparations.”

Legolas then nodded to Aragorn, the man released the finger 
from his mouth. Quickly, the man behind him used the digit 
to probe into the ring of muscle between the archer's 
cheeks. As if revenging the tight grip to his sensitive 
organ, he pushed into him harder than he would have needed, 
which led Legolas to a sharp intake of breath.

The ranger did not want the ethereal beauty to feel more 
pain than necessary, and tried to distract him by ways of 
his own. He began kissing him passionately, catching every 
sound emanating from Legolas' soft mouth whilst Boromir 
added another finger and scissored the opening apart for 
the real action.

He had a very hard time concentrating on not coming then 
and there, as his fingers plodded around in the delicious 
tightness of the Elf. At last he found the spot he was 
looking for, and moved his hand to hit it with every 
stroke, feeling Legolas push himself back onto his fingers 
in pleasure.

Meanwhile, to the front of the Elf, Aragorn was busy with 
kissing and holding him in place, feeling Legolas' free 
hand grip him harder with every move the man made inside 
him. He tried hard to restrain his own want while rubbing 
his member against the Elf's, and silently awaited the 
signal for him to readjust his position.

Finally, Boromir pulled back his hand, and gently pried the 
Elf's fingers away from around his penis. Legolas sighed in 
a rather disappointed manner as he felt the man back away, 
if only to make way for matters of even greater pleasure, 
but that was just what Aragorn had been waiting for.

He knelt down and took the weeping Elfhood deep into his 
throat, just as the other man gripped the archer's hips 
firmly and sheathed himself inside the luxurious body 
before him.

The heat and tightness which welcomed him there were nearly 
enough to undo him, and Boromir bit into the Elf's shoulder 
to keep from screaming out. Legolas however, after finally 
not having anybody restraining his voicing his feelings, 
decided to rather let them know of his pleasure.

“Ai, quicker!” he cried, as every move Boromir made into 
him pushed him forwards into the hospitality of the 
ranger's mouth.

Hearing Legolas cry out, knowing that it was by his doing 
the Elf was in such excitement, Boromir collected all his 
wits to concentrate on a few final, deep thrusts before 
finding his release.

Only shortly after, Legolas in his turn reached his orgasm, 
and shot his hot seed down Aragorn's throat. He swallowed 
quickly, and licked the long shaft clean from the sweet 
stickiness.

Boromir felt his legs could hold him up no longer, and 
slumped to the ground. He laid down on his back breathing 
heavily, the comprehension of what sick activities he had 
taken part in seemingly just settling in. But as hard as he 
tried, he could not regret it. Quite in the contrary, he 
felt quite smug about his accomplishment.

Noticing movement behind him, the Elf prince lowered 
himself also. He rested himself between the man's legs as 
in an exquisite armchair, and looked over at the ranger, 
who was still kneeling. A smile spreading over his fair 
features, he began to stroke over his body, pausing shortly 
at his flaccid member, and spread his legs to let his hands 
trace along the insides of his thighs. Watching Aragorn 
closely, he whispered seductively, “You have a very 
talented mouth, my dear ranger. You might want me to return 
your kindness.”

Under the amazed eyes of both men, Legolas gripped his 
Elfhood and leisurely began rubbing himself erect again. 
The man he was leaning against looked on spellbound, unable 
to avert his gaze from the flawless body sprawled out in 
front of him, nor of the quick readiness he performed for 
their enhancement, leaving no doubts about rumours of Elven 
abilities.

The ranger caught the lascivious look of the other man, 
lowered himself to his hands and knees, and breathed, 
“Albeit your ethereal beauty, I am getting the impression 
that you are the embodiment of insatiability.”

“I prefer to call it perseverance,” the Elf smiled 
wickedly, “and is it not a mark of good breeding to please 
others as thoroughly as oneself has been treated?”

Boromir took that as a compliment to his previous settling 
of the situation and gave a grunt of approval. To Aragorn’s 
ears, it sounded like pure lust, and he decided to agree 
with him – surprisingly, he found he did that quite 
regularly of late.

Legolas, in the meantime, was holding his cock tightly in 
one hand, getting close to the verge of ejaculation, while 
letting the other brush ceaselessly along the insides of 
his thighs. His face showed no signs of effort, barring the 
glint in his eyes, and the smile on his lips, which he 
showed so seldom, seemingly having them reserved for sexual 
moments such as these.

The archer followed Aragorn’s moves intently, or rather his 
not moving at all, and leaned further back against the 
other man’s stomach. “I thought you would have chosen to 
take part in your reparation,” the archer said in a mocking 
tone, “but if you prefer to watch –“

He closed his eyes and rested his head on Boromir’s 
shoulder. His lips parted slightly, and the ranger could 
see the tip of his tongue between two rows of perfect 
teeth. Quickly, he moved closer to the tempting Elf, and 
laid his hand on the one around the straining prick to 
pause him in his administrations.

Legolas opened his eyes half way, and regarded him from 
below his dark lashes. “‘So you want to have yourself a 
poke with our fair companion before departing?’” he smiled 
innocently, quoting Aragorn’s earlier conversation with 
Boromir, letting them know that he heard every word of it.

Both men groaned in unison, as the Elf shattered what 
little hopes there were of him not overhearing their entire 
talk, which only brought a light chuckle over the Elf’s 
lips. “Come then, poke away. Give your ‘fair companion’ 
something to dream about during the journey, for he does 
not give an Orc’s fowl smell to all the maidens in entire 
Gondor.”

Aragorn wondered how Legolas managed to think straight 
under these circumstances, for he most certainly could not. 
Thus, he said nothing, and kissed him instead, whilst 
lowering his body between the Elf’s spread legs.

Legolas eagerly returned the kiss, and began sucking hard 
on the man’s tongue, imitating his actions on his cock of a 
few minutes before. He felt hands trail to his hips and 
hold him in a rather tight grip, probably done so rather 
unconsciously as he felt the throbbing length grind against 
his own.

The ranger’s arousal had grown nearly painfully hard, and 
he was glad that the other man had already stretched the 
archer’s hole enough to skip the ordeal of holding on any 
longer to prepare him. The tip of his hard member touched 
against Legolas’ backside, and the moisture of the 
Gondorian’s seed there, together with his own pre-cum, 
provided enough lubrication for him to enter easily.

The Elf moaned hoarsely at the slow sensation of the 
ranger’s thick shaft filling him, and leaned even further 
back against Boromir. The man propped himself up on his 
elbows to stay in a half-sitting position, and to steady 
the movements the couple made occupied in their love 
making. Watching them, he could not decide which one he 
wanted to swap places with more – Aragorn, who was 
sheathing himself in the tender body of the Elf, while he 
voiced his pleasure and arched his back for deeper 
penetration; or Legolas, as the tanned body of the ranger 
lay upon and pushed steadily inside him. The member of the 
Fellowship he had formerly despised most was slowly growing 
on him, and he would only too gladly take orders of 
whatever the other man wished, and accept him as his king 
and leader.

Pushing into the archer’s tightness, Aragorn quickly neared 
his peak, and as he tried to hit the sweet spot inside his 
lover with every thrust, he rejoiced in the change in the 
Elf. His previously shown air of loftiness was gone, 
replaced by the most sexual look of wanton which urged his 
own body to quicken its pace, and never wanting to stop to 
keep that look for ever.

With the ranger pumping madly inside him, Legolas cried out 
and clung to his shoulders in a desperate attempt of 
keeping the angle unchanged so that not one single move 
would miss its target. Then he felt a hand close around his 
hard member, stroking him in pace with their movements, and 
he screamed out in delight.

While keeping a close watch on the happenings, Boromir had 
not realized how tired his arms had become. Slowly, as not 
to disturb the others who visibly could not be taking much 
longer, going by the quickened grunting (on the ranger’s 
side) and increasing yelling of “Ai!” and “Faster!” (from 
the frantic Elf) he laid down flat on his back.

With the next thrust of the ranger, they both pushed down 
on the other man, who suddenly found himself in a much 
better position as before, even though he shortly felt the 
air pushed out of his lungs. He guided his hands, though 
tingling from the lack of blood circulation to his limbs, 
underneath the archer’s arms towards his chest and began 
roaming around there, ever so often tickled lightly by 
Aragorn’s bodily hairs stroking against the backs of his 
hands when thrusting into the Elf.

Only a short time afterwards, Legolas arched his back, 
while holding the ranger’s shoulders in a nearly painful 
grip, and through his quickened breathing still managed to 
cry out loud as his orgasm shook his entire body. That is, 
it would have, had he not been so tightly pressed between 
the two men – one, with a final thrust, coming also and 
spilling his release into the slender Elf below him, and 
the other watching the spectacle magnetized, but 
nevertheless somewhat relieved at the prospects of not 
being squashed in the foreseeable future, furthermore, not 
underneath a wildly humping couple.

After they had collapsed onto one heap, neither of them 
moved for a short while, and as Aragorn was the one on top, 
he was the first to untangle himself. His legs however did 
not yet find it necessary to obey him, and he slumped 
rather clumsily to one side of Boromir, and felt he would 
never get up again.

The Elf followed in a much more graceful manner, and rolled 
smoothly off the Gondorian. Laying himself on one side, he 
rested his head lazily on one hand, and looked at the two 
men, sprawled out on their backs, too exhausted to move.

Legolas smiled at them, a naughty glint in his blue eyes. 
“Of all dangers we may encounter on our way, I believe our 
mission is at least in no risk of becoming dull.”





<And they shagged happily ever after! Aaah, that was fun 
writing, I guess I’ll let them get busy again ... and again 
... and again ...>
	page 1