Title: Mirkwood Cannabis
Author: The Mad Elf Banger
the_mad_elf_banger@yahoo.com.au
Pairing: Aragorn / Legolas
Rating:	NC-17
Summary: Set in Rivendell. 
Leggsie is a pothead, Aragorn finds out.
Disclaimer: Nope, not mine *sniff* 






Night had fallen, and Aragorn led his horse through the 
quiet forest surrounding Rivendell. He was heading towards 
the Last Homely House, dwelling of Lord Elrond Halfelven, 
his Father, where he intended to spend some days after 
patrolling in the west with some fellow rangers, and was 
looking forward to a nice hot bath to begin his short 
period off guard with something special.

After bringing his horse to the stable, he strode swiftly 
towards his home, and surprisingly for the late hour of his 
arrival, he met Elrond, who was pacing up and down the main 
entrance hall.

“Good evening, Father,” the man said, approaching him.

“A good evening to you also, Estel,” Elrond answered, 
smiling slightly, though not very convincing.

“What is it, Father? Is there something amiss?”

“Nay, ‘tis not. I merely do not know of Legolas’ 
whereabouts, and am somewhat concerned.”

Aragorn raised an eyebrow inquisitively. He had met the Elf 
prince on various occasions in the past, but only for short 
periods, and never had he been to Rivendell before, as far 
as he could remember.

“What brings him here?” he asked.

Elrond looked at his son, shaking his head at himself. “I 
am sorry. He arrived earlier this day in search of some 
peace from the King of Mirkwood, his Father’s, 
disquietness. He has given Legolas a rather strenuous time 
lately, and now I am worried as he has not been seen the 
whole day, and I believe he sought distraction, not 
solitude.”

“Why then do you not search for him?” Aragorn asked, 
beginning to find this matter more interesting than his 
former plans of something to eat and a bath.

The Lord of Rivendell shook his head. “I do not want him to 
feel monitored, lest he feels as uncomfortable here as at 
home.”

“Then let me look for him. I will tell you when I have 
found him, and see to it that he is alright.”

“Thank you, son,” Elrond said, visibly relieved. “You will 
doubtless find him in the gardens.”

The man nodded shortly, and headed towards the gardens. He 
did not know where to start his search, and walking quickly 
along the paths, he hoped the Elf had not taken refuge in a 
tree, as seemed suitable owing of his woodland origin.

Time passed, and regardless of the man’s talent at tracking 
he found no sign of Legolas. But then he noticed something, 
nothing visible, but a faint smell he had never sensed 
before. Looking around, he found he was completely alone, 
and facing a densely wooded part of the gardens, leading 
into the adjoining forest.

Suddenly childhood memories swept over him, bringing the 
entrance to a secret hiding spot back to his mind, mere 
steps from the point he was standing. He stepped forward, 
and to his amazement, noticed the smell intensifying.

Aragorn stooped low under the branches, suddenly fully 
aware of fitting underneath much easier when he was 
younger, and after crawling for several feet, he came into 
a small clearing, between a group of tall trees, and 
totally out of view from the outside.

With every move he came further towards the source of the 
queer smell, and as the man entered the clearing, he found 
himself in a cloud of sweet-scented smoke. Aragorn got up 
from his knees to look around the place where he had spent 
so much time in his childhood, but he had hardly arisen 
when he felt himself being tackled and pulled to the ground 
by two strong hands, pinning him face-down to the floor, 
unable to see his opponent nor hear any sound emanating 
from him.

Suddenly the pressure on his back weakened, and Aragorn 
pushed himself up on his arms, glaring back over his 
shoulder, surprised to find just the Elf he had been 
looking for kneeling beside him.

“I am sorry, I did not realize it was you,” Legolas said, 
holding a long hand out for Aragorn to help him up.

“Is that your usual manner of greeting unexpected 
visitors?” the man asked, dusting some earth off his tunic, 
and embarrassed that due to his deep thoughts he had been 
such easy prey for the Elf.

Picking a leaf off the man’s shoulder, Legolas merely 
smiled and eyed him over. At the first sounds he heard of 
the intruder he had been annoyed, but seeing the handsome 
human before him, he slowly began to change his mind.

Aragorn paused his movements and looked at Legolas, who 
stood before him unmoving, with a sly smile on his lips, 
although he could not be sure whether his vision was not 
just clouded by the vapors around them. He fanned his hand 
to get rid of the smoke, and asked, “Whence come all these 
fumes, Legolas?”

At that, he was certain the Elf smiled even wider, but said 
nothing and stepped close to him, until their faces were 
mere inches apart. “Cast your eyes yonder,” he said softly, 
cocking his head to the side.

Aragorn looked to his right, and beside him, at the foot of 
one of the surrounding trees, lay a soft leather bag, open 
and spilling gray-green leaves over the ground. Next to it 
he saw a small silver obstacle, shaped like a miniature 
trumpet, with delicate flower-shaped ornaments running all 
around it, which faintly glimmered in the smoke emanating 
from a hole at one end.

“What is this?” he asked, and turned his head back to face 
the Elf.

Legolas looked deep into the gray eyes locked to his, and 
stepped even closer to the man. He longed to touch him - 
his hands, brushing absent-mindedly at his tunic; his face, 
caught in an irresistible look of incomprehension he found 
exquisitely alluring; and the rest of his muscular body, 
hidden underneath the clothing.

“Hineth,” he whispered into the man’s ear, and pulled back 
slowly, searching again for his eyes, and finding the look 
on the ranger’s face change from not understanding to 
bewilderment. “You have not heard of it?”

Aragorn shook his head dismissively, “Aye, I have. ‘Tis a 
stimulant. But what are you doing with it here?” Searching 
in his memory, he remembered that some Elven warriors used 
it to heighten their abilities of perception, but it needed 
an exact measuring to eliminate the correct dose to achieve 
the requested outcome.

Legolas raised one shapely eyebrow. “Why, smoking it of 
course.” He moved over to his stuff, and picked up the 
silver instrument, which at second look turned out to be an 
exquisite pipe.

“You would not,” the man said slowly, feeling outraged at 
the Elf’s insolence of bringing drugs into his home, and 
yet, at the same time, admiring him for his doing so, 
proving quite the contrary of the usual proper behavior.

To change the subject to a momentarily more pressing 
matter, he asked, trying not to let his voice sound too 
inquisitive, “Why are you here?”

“Actually I came here to escape my father’s unbearable 
restlessness,” the Elf began, but seeing the ranger frown, 
he added, “Do not misunderstand me. I did not run away, I 
merely needed to get away from him for a while.”

Smiling, he continued, “If you insist, I did run away,” 
looking not at all guilty or ashamed of his open 
confession.

Aragorn regarded him unflinching. “Yet again, I ask you 
why, Legolas.”

Legolas sighed dramatically, and passed the pipe from one 
hand to the other. “After I was introduced to the pleasure 
of Hineth during a riding out, I wanted to smoke some at 
home. I believed myself in the position of taking out of 
the royal warehouses what I please, so I relieved it of a 
fair amount of the weed. It has not been used for 
centuries, as I knew from various occasions when my Father 
told me about the horrendous effects of it, and that it was 
prohibited to indulge in its consumption.”

The man remained silent, watching the Elf prince tell his 
story. “However, my Father believed it stolen, and soon the 
entire Mirkwood was searched for the thief. Unfortunately, 
he will not let the matter rest, and that has been nearly a 
year ago, and still there is not the faintest sign that he 
will cease his attempts of retrieval, if anything, he has 
become more determined.”

“Why then do you not give it back to ease your conscience?” 
Aragorn put in, not in the least understanding why someone 
would run, stand there a chance of repairing the damage and 
the possibility of returning life to known standards.

“’Tis not my conscience which bothers me,” the Elf 
answered. “I am fully aware that the issue I am indirectly 
accused of is more than grave, but I am no thief, I only do 
not share my Father’s opinion on Hineth. ‘Tis neither 
dangerous, nor should it be illegal, and I do not see a 
reason for myself to take the blame for something he has 
ignorantly assumed faulty.”

The Elf held the pipe lightly in his long fingers, and 
looking squarely at the ranger, raised it towards his lips. 
Never breaking their eye contact, he drew a deep breath, 
clearly enjoying both the taste of the weed and the 
astonished look on the man’s face during the process.

Aragorn watched entranced as the Elven archer slowly blew 
shimmering bluish smoke out the side of his mouth, and 
offered him the pipe on his palm.

“I dare you to try it,” he said quietly, and after the man 
took the pipe, lowered himself to the ground, folding his 
legs underneath him. He leaned against a tree and looked up 
at the human before him, who was eyeing the obstacle in his 
hands.

In fact, Aragorn was quite surprised with himself at 
accepting the challenge, and at the queer shiver which had 
run up his spine when he touched Legolas’ fingers. Absent-
mindedly, he inhaled, and the taste of the Hineth was 
sweet, with a touch of some flavor unknown to him, like in 
a warm red wine. Tasty, but not predominant over the 
sweetness, and furthermore, he felt his senses sharpened to 
an almost impossible extent.

The world suddenly blackened around him, like he had stood 
up too quickly, as if his senses had received an overdose 
on information, and he dropped to his knees, then turned to 
sit beside Legolas, resting his back against a tree for 
support.

Legolas smiled as he witnessed the man experience for the 
first time the pleasure of the Elven weed, enabling him an 
incomparable extent of perception, yet at first too strong 
to fully control. And, in sitting down beside him, Aragorn 
had offered him a splendid view of his backside, which had 
the Elf muster his entire restraint as to not reach out for 
it, feeling a hardly suppressible itch in his fingers to do 
so.

Instead, he leaned over towards Aragorn for the pipe, and 
noticed him shiver as their fingers came in contact again, 
as if for the first time truly feeling the texture of skin.

Aragorn learned that lesson at the same time, for whereas 
the Elf’s fingers first had felt merely unexplainably soft 
compared to his own callused hands, now that touch had 
turned into the most intense feeling he had ever perceived, 
and he longed to know whether his other senses were 
strengthened likewise.

Inhaling the sweet scent of the Hineth, the fair Elf rested 
his head on the tree, and passed the pipe back to the man 
beside him, who was already breathing heavier, as the 
stimulant apparently acting quicker upon him.

Tasting the weed a second time, Aragorn thought he would 
implode with the strong abilities he felt laid upon him, if 
he could not find a way to explore just how heightened his 
senses were. He tried to rise to his feet, but with an 
unforeseen wave of immense sensual impressions rushing at 
him, he fell back, landing heavily on the ground.

Legolas laughed softly at the hastiness the man displayed, 
and leaned forward to where he had impacted with the ground 
before his feet. “Are you all right?” he asked, placing a 
hand on Aragorn’s shoulder.

Aragorn thought that he had just sampled the most sensual 
feeling with his distinct ability of perceiving his 
surroundings, but as the Elf laid his hand on his shoulder, 
he felt an even stronger wave engulf him, not only 
affecting his senses, but his entire body.

Sitting up, he moved closer towards the Elf, and turning to 
face him, was suddenly aware of a strange odor, which had 
previously passed unnoticed to him. Believing he was slowly 
regaining the control over his senses, he realized that he 
was scenting the unique smell of the Elf prince, and he 
leaned forward to prove himself correct.

Quite surprised at the man coming so close to him, 
obviously sniffing at the neck of his tunic, Legolas 
nevertheless remained motionless. He kept himself from 
touching him yet again, and decided to wait and see what 
would come next, and wondered how long Aragorn would need 
to test his newly found super-senses to his satisfaction.

Marveling at himself and what he was doing, Aragorn raised 
his hand and let it trace along the shapely face of the Elf 
in front of him. Now that the swirling of the surroundings 
had passed, he found himself in full control over his 
senses, and savored the simultaneous delight of touch and 
scent.

Legolas closed his eyes as the hand moved along his face, 
feeling his longing for the man increase with every passing 
second. Thusly, he did not shy away as Aragorn closed the 
distance between them, and brought their faces together for 
a soft kiss, but parted his lips to let the man enter with 
his tongue.

Aragorn could not comprehend why he was acting in such a 
way, but that question seemed totally unimportant to him, 
and instead took the Elf’s offer and plunged his tongue 
into his mouth, tasting an incredible sweetness, combining 
the scent of the weed and Legolas’ own flavor.

Legolas sighed, both relieved and elated as the man 
responded in a way he had never thought possible. He 
reached for Aragorn’s upper arms, and felt himself steadily 
harden as he pulled him closer.

As their tongues engaged in sweet battle, Aragorn felt his 
sensual perception evermore increase, inversely 
proportional to his diminishing restraint, leading him to 
push the immortal back onto the ground, breaking their kiss 
and hungrily nibbling along the Elf’s jaw.

Moaning at the tender wetness administered upon him, the 
Elf ran his hands to the front of the ranger’s tunic, 
opening it swiftly, and laying bare the hairy chest 
underneath.

Aragorn looked down at his open tunic, amazed at just how 
quickly the procedure was settled under the archer’s able 
fingers. He raised his eyes to gaze into Legolas’, and 
regarding him from below his dark lashes, the Elf moved, 
rubbing his growing arousal against the ranger’s thigh.

Passion flashed in the man’s face, and feeling his own 
member respond to the hardness he had witnessed, he sat up 
and straddled the Elf’s hips, deftly casting away his 
opened garment, and reaching for the lacings on the Elven 
tunic. Not intending to just lay there, Legolas nimbly 
opened the man’s trousers, so quickly he arrived at his 
goal before the ranger had managed his way through the 
first layer of clothing.

Reaching inside, he took hold of Aragorn’s cock, releasing 
it from its material prison, and causing the man to breathe 
in sharply. He gently felt up and down the length, the 
member growing ever harder, and the human completely ceased 
his attempts of ridding the archer of his clothing, 
throwing his head back, and bucking his hips forward into 
the hand holding him.

The man shut his eyes, relishing the touch of the Elf 
beneath him, and though desperately wanting to please him 
likewise, he could not summon the will nor the strength to 
guide even a small part of his attention away from this 
pleasure. All his thought and sensual attention seemed to 
be focusing on just that one part of his body, and his 
entire world seemed to consist of the incredible 
combination of soft fingers and tight rhythmic movement.

But then Legolas paused, letting go of his straining 
erection, and Aragorn let out a frustrated moan. “Legolas!” 
he cried, and looked down at him dismayed. “You cannot 
leave me like this!”

“Nor do I intend to do so,” the Elf replied, sitting up. 
“Be patient.”

“Aargh,” the man groaned, despairingly, and let himself 
drop back until he lay flat on his back. “You must be 
joking.”

Legolas briskly cast away his half-opened tunic, 
undershirt, boots, and constricting leggings, yet again 
nearly too fast as for even the man in his desperate 
longing state to notice. When he kneeled down next to him, 
he received an astonished look, not lacking a fair amount 
of awe as hungry eyes flitted over his naked body.

Regarding the blond Elf, Aragorn nearly forgot about his 
own miserable condition. His skin was of an even creamy 
color, and immaculate, with no signs of scars or even hair, 
save in his lower regions, where the hair had the same 
golden shading as his daintily braided mane, which was 
cascading down his back and over his shoulders.

Legolas moved closer beside him, taking hold one of 
Aragorn’s legs just below the knee, and carefully pulled 
off his boot. He repeated the procedure on the other foot, 
and then guided his hands towards the waistband of the 
man’s trousers, having merely opened them before far enough 
as to release the throbbing manhood. He slowly pulled the 
garment down over Aragorn’s hips, and threw them aside 
towards the rest of their clothing.

Aragorn watched as the Elf worked his body to nakedness, 
and then reached for his hands, slowly kissing first the 
one, and then the other. Placing them on the man’s chest, 
Legolas leaned over, and kissed his stomach, slowly moving 
further downwards, gently trailing his tongue around his 
navel, nearing Aragorn’s cock, fully erect and straining 
for release.

Aragorn lay stretched out, arching his back under the 
archer’s treatment, and felt himself harden even more at 
the mere thought of where his soft lips were headed. As 
Legolas licked over the shaft, and finally took him deep 
into his mouth, the man shuddered, and bucked his hips 
upwards.

Crying out the name of his benefactor, “Legolas!”, Aragorn 
wreathed around helplessly underneath him, nearing the most 
sensual orgasm he had ever felt.

The Elf alternatively pulled him in and out of his mouth, 
until only a few movements later, ecstasy took hold of the 
man, and brought him to his peak, filling Legolas with his 
seed, which he swallowed eagerly.

Collapsing backwards, Aragorn stayed motionless for a short 
moment, breathing heavily, while Legolas stretched himself 
out next to him, and rested his head on the man’s stomach. 
He let his hand stroke soothingly over the ranger’s chest, 
and looked sideways up at him.

Aragorn held his gaze, and gently ran his fingers through 
the Elf’s hair. “Would you I do the same for you?” he 
whispered.

The Elf prince smiled wickedly, not answering for a moment, 
and pushed himself up on one arm. He felt between Aragorn’s 
legs with the other, and guided his fingers along the 
inside of the man’s thigh slowly upwards. When he reached 
the entrance he paused shortly, and then sheathed one 
finger in him with a single, quick move.

Aragorn breathed in sharply at the sudden intrusion, and 
though he felt himself in an unfamiliar defenseless 
situation, a strange finger penetrating him in a most 
intimate fashion, he was equally aroused at the new 
experience.

“Have you lain with another male before, Aragorn?” Legolas 
asked quietly, probing with his finger for the special spot 
he knew would guarantee the man to relax to his touch.

The ranger shook his head slightly, but before he could 
utter a single word, Legolas found what he was looking for 
inside him, causing him to let out a guttural moan. Arching 
his back, he pushed down further on the Elf’s finger, and 
as Legolas watched his reaction, inserted another digit, 
stretching the opening apart for his later intentions.

Witnessing Aragorn’s dick swell before his eyes, the man 
nearing his second orgasm under the Elf’s administrations, 
Legolas believed he could easily undo him with his fingers. 
Yet that was the last thing he planned to do, and his own 
cock had grown so hard, he decided the preparations 
sufficient.

As he removed his fingers, Aragorn grunted, and lifted 
himself up on his forearms to look disapprovingly at the 
Elf. “Why did you stop?” he burst out, which only caused 
Legolas to smile.

“I did not stop,” he answered, and moved on hands and knees 
between the man’s legs, “merely pause shortly.”

Aragorn sat up and reached for the shoulders of the Elf, 
drawing him towards himself. They kissed, both feeling pure 
ecstasy as the passion even increased the effect of the 
stimulant to an extraordinary experience.

Deepening their kiss, Legolas stroked over Aragorn’s chest 
with his hands, nimble fingers caressing the nipples until 
they were as rigid as their arousals, grinding together in 
hungry movements of their hips.

Sensing neither of them could contain himself much longer, 
the man reached between their bodies and took hold of their 
cocks in one hand, rubbing them gently together before 
spreading both their pre-cum onto Legolas’ hot shaft.

Legolas broke the kiss, and lowered himself atop the 
ranger, who laid back and raised his hips from the ground 
to grant him easier access. Resting one hand on the ground, 
and closing the other in a tight grip around Aragorn’s 
prick, he inserted his throbbing member into the formerly 
prepared opening.

The man groaned at the pain in his backside as his lover 
entered him, though distracted somewhat through the 
pressure on his penis, gripped hard in the Elf’s hand. As 
Legolas moved slowly inside him, stroking against the spot 
he had previously caressed with his fingers, Aragorn sighed 
with pleasure, and longed for deeper penetration of the 
prince’s Elfhood.

Legolas continued his slow movements, relishing the 
impossible tightness of the ranger, and simulating the same 
feeling for his lover, stroking rhythmically up and down 
his prick.

The slowness of the Elf’s administrations was nearly 
driving Aragorn insane, and he began pushing himself down 
onto Legolas at a quicker pace, his swollen balls and the 
pressure on his dick competing earnestly with the pleasure 
he was receiving with Legolas’ thick member filling him 
from below.

Thrusting into the man, Legolas quickened the rubbing with 
his hand, and shortly after felt Aragorn’s semen spurt onto 
his stomach. Feeling the man shudder beneath him, he closed 
his eyes before also reaching his orgasm, letting waves of 
his sperm gush into his lover.

Sinking down, he rested his weight on the body underneath 
him, remaining fully sheathed inside Aragorn, not wanting 
to part with him so soon. The man closed his arms around 
him, and raised his legs to cross them behind the archer’s 
back, equally not wanting them to separate.

“I should honestly think, were the effect of this weed 
always likewise, it should not have such a bad reputation,” 
the man finally broke the silence.

Legolas smiled, “Aye, ‘tis rather a blessing, my love,” and 
he moved his hands to the ranger’s face, gently stroking 
across his stubble and towards his tangled, sweaty hair.

Aragorn smiled back at him, then lifted his head and kissed 
the fair archer. “What a beauty,” he thought, “*my* Elf.”


The End.