Title: But Part A Fool  
 
Author: Guess (bassez_love@hotmail.com)  
 
Pairing(s): Legolas/Aragorn, slight Aragorn/Arwen  
 
Rating: NC-17  
 
Summary: Written for 'The Alliance' challenge. Legolas is 
but part a fool.  
 
Disclaimer: I don't own them, yada, yada, yada. I wish I 
owned Arwen, though, so I could break her neck. Yes, she 
annoys me, getting in the way of true love like that.  
 
Author's Note:  Doesn't touch on stuff about the ring or 
the Ringbearer. Mainly focuses on Legolas, Aragorn and 
Arwen. Doesn't touch on the call of the sea, either. Set 
just before Aragorn is crowned King.  
 
Stuff in '//' are thoughts, and the song snippets used are 
taken from 'Ghost Of Me And You' by BBMak. Snippets are 
indicated with '~' '~'.  
 
---------------------------------------------  
 
"I know of what your heart seeks, Legolas. 'Tis not 
surprising, for few can resist temptation where it offers 
itself so willingly."  
 
Legolas halted suddenly in his tracks, and did not answer 
that who spoke, yet the aversion of his eyes from hers was 
all the answer she needed.  
 
"What ails you, my prince?" Arwen's voice was mocking, 
chiding him for thoughts that had come unbidden to his mind 
in his darkest hours. "Daren't you speak with me? Or have 
you guilt that must not be known by any other than 
yourself, that bids you refuse to look at me so?"  
 
Legolas looked up at her biting words, and it was only 
sheer determination that kept his eyes on hers. "Accuse me 
not of what I have not done, milady."  
 
Arwen simply smiled clandestinely. "There is no need for 
lies, Legolas. I can read your every thought as clear as 
day." There was no answer he could give to that. "What say 
you if we struck a bargain?" At Legolas' pointed look, she 
laughed, "There is, I know, no man holy enough to resist 
the devil."  
 
Legolas forced himself to look away, then, even as the 
offer resounded beguilingly in his head, angry with himself 
for such weakness.  
 
"It would be but one night; no one would ever know."  
 
The offer taunted him no end, yet with forced calmness, 
Legolas replied, "I do not understand your words, Lady."  
 
Arwen raised an eyebrow, knowing perfectly well that he 
understood. "You would give him up, Mirkwood prince? All 
for the sake of your foolish pride? Have you not learnt 
that to want what you cannot have is folly? For elves would 
die of a broken heart, and yet when I offer you your 
heart's secret, you turn him down? What hinders your sight 
so, Legolas?"  
 
"I would rather die standing, than live on my knees." His 
voice was now but a whisper, as his emotions raced wildly 
through his mind, for Legolas knew she offered him naught 
but deceit; his very freedom, in exchange for what his 
heart so dearly sought.  
 
Yet even as sense demanded that he fall not into 
enticement, his heart sang another song entirely. One of 
love, and hope, and dreams. One of a man with bravery, and 
gallantness, and courage; of wit, and passion, and might.  
 
"Would you that eternity is spent alone? Forever is a long 
time, Legolas, to be without companion… without *him*." 
Arwen's poisonous voice pierced his thoughts, forcing 
forbidden images into his mind.  
 
"I… I dare not accept your," Legolas paused, swallowing 
deeply as he choked out the words, "Gracious offer, Lady 
Arwen. Nay, for we must speaketh not of the King of Gondor 
as a prize to be claimed. He-"  
 
The Evenstar's lips curled in disgust as she realized that 
her efforts had gone to waste. "Say naught more! You are 
foolish, Legolas! A *fool* indeed."  
 
She walked away, then, without once looking back at the 
broken Elf.  
 
"Mayhap I am a fool. For how can a common elf seek to 
replace a Queen?" And as the dispirited figure disappeared 
into the distance, the shimmer of tears unshed were clear 
in his eyes.  
 
--------------------------------------------------------  
 
It had been many moons since that fated night, yet her 
words had many a time echoed in his head. How they tortured 
him! Clearing his head quickly of his wretched thoughts 
lest he be caught unawares, Legolas looked around, taking 
in the splendor of Gondor, and wondered how everything had 
passed so quickly – How the months of archery practice in 
Rivendell had led, instead, to years of hunting Orc.  
 
But then, he pondered, to Elves, even a century was a mere 
blink of the eye.  
 
T'was no wonder, then, that his heartbeat still quickened 
when he saw Aragorn again - it was as though naught had 
changed.  
 
"Legolas!" The two hugged, before Aragorn stepped back to 
hold Legolas at arms length, and looked him up and down. 
"My friend, it has been a long time. How fare you?"  
 
"I am well, mellon (friend). Thank you." A smile appeared 
on the Elf's face, "And how fares the King of Gondor?"  
 
Aragorn laughed, "I am not yet King, my prince."  
 
"But come morn you shall be," Legolas' smile widened. "You 
have achieved great things, Estel, as I knew you would."  
 
Aragorn's warm, genuine smile almost undid him, then, and 
his smile disappeared as quickly as it had come.  
 
------------------------------------------  
 
/Sometimes to look at him is torture. To see him smile is a 
dagger through my heart, and his laughter only twists it 
deeper./  
 
'Twas a joyful night. Aragorn's last as a ranger, as 
Strider, as an outcast. Come dawn, he would rightfully take 
his place as Lord of Gondor, with Arwen by his side. And 
Legolas could only hope that at the wedding, his heart 
would survive, and that, seeing as he had held his peace 
for so long and endured, another day of silence would not 
take his life.  
 
/I shall cast these thoughts aside, and smile, and pretend, 
as I have done for so long, that my heart is not aching and 
full of woe. For such is my love of him./  
 
Tonight would be the last night Legolas would be seeing his 
beloved for many moons, for Aragorn's duty would henceforth 
be in Gondor, as Legolas' beckoned in Mirkwood by his 
father's side.  
 
Ruefully, Legolas picked up his goblet of wine, draining 
it, enjoying the burning feeling as the sweet, red liquid 
slid down his throat.  
 
It was indeed an exultant night, and many had traveled from 
distant lands to witness the event. Aragorn's crowning was 
not a small matter, and many allies, near and far, were 
there that very night to celebrate the merry occasion.  
 
Lord Elrond himself had prearranged a night of festivities 
to entertain the guests. Yet, even as the loud cheering of 
the guests echoed in the forest, where the revelry was 
being held, Legolas sat apart, distant from the joy and the 
laughter, as he drowned himself in his sorrows. How could 
he find the heart to join in the merrymaking, when his love 
was to be married to Arwen come sunrise?  
 
Legolas poured himself more wine, and as he was about to 
down it, a hand rested itself lightly on his shoulder. 
"Calm thyself, Legolas!" the voice laughed as the Elf spun 
around, dagger already poised in his hand. "'Tis only I, 
Aragorn."  
 
Legolas sheathed his dagger at once, face burning. He had 
been caught off-guard, a rare sight among elves, and was 
ashamed that his normally tuned senses had not picked up 
the arrival of his old friend. "Does something ail you, my 
friend?"  
 
The gentle words, spoken in his native tongue, made Legolas 
yearn for days long past as he answered, "Nay, Aragorn. 
'Tis but my joy of your crowning that distracts me so."  
 
Aragorn's laughter twisted Legolas' lips into a bitter 
smile. "'Tis naught but a title, Legolas. You know I care 
not for such things."  
 
Legolas smiled, and merely nodded, offering Aragorn a 
chalice of wine as he did so. "Yet titles are of such 
importance. And thus I raise a toast to you, m'lord. That 
Gondor is restored to glory at your hands."  
 
"Hear, hear!" Their cups met with a tinkle, and both 
swallowed their drinks. And to Legolas, the moment was 
bittersweet, for his mind conjured pictures of nuptial wine 
and ties, and the acts of the night that would surely 
follow after, if only he had Aragorn's heart.  
 
"Come, my friend," Aragorn settled his goblet back on the 
table, rousing Legolas from his daydreams, and rested his 
hand on the Elf's arm. "And join the festivities!"  
 
"Nay," Legolas denied the request, "Such merrymaking does 
not become me, Estel. For soon the men should mistake me 
for a damsel in their inebriation. Would that I put myself 
not in such humiliation!"  
 
Aragorn laughed, long and loud, his head thrown back as the 
wind flirted with his hair. And Legolas could not help but 
gaze longingly at such a sight. "Aye, Legolas. Indeed, such 
times you are fairer than the fairest of your maidens."  
 
Legolas shook his head, and smiled, as the tips of his ears 
turned red at the compliment. "'Tis not any fault of mine 
that I take no pleasure in rolling in the mud as you are 
such inclined to do."  
 
Aragorn smiled again. "Ah, Legolas, I may be swift and 
sharp in swordplay and scouting, but surely, you have 
mastered the sharpest of all – wit."  
 
Legolas deigned to smile once more, though it was a faint, 
and did not reach his eyes. "Elves have the wit of a 
hundred men, Estel. It would do you good to remember such."  
 
Bowing slightly, with a smile still on his lips, Aragorn 
nodded, bade Legolas goodnight, and retreated to rejoin the 
festivities, where he was wanted. Legolas sighed as the 
future King walked away, wanting to call out to him, to beg 
him to stay, to leave Arwen and forever caress only this 
Elf's lips with his own; but once more, his courage failed 
him, and he simply picked up his chalice, holding it to his 
lips to silence his thoughts. "Wit, indeed. Such wit that I 
should fall for a Man whom all the women in this land 
desire, and who holds the heart of our Lady Undomiel. Aye, 
such is my wit."  
 
He laughed rancorously, then, remembering Arwen's words 
once more. 'few can resist temptation where it offers 
itself so willingly.' Indeed, her words had been spoken 
truly.  
 
Legolas raised his cup bitterly to the sky, where the stars 
twinkled brightly; and what should have been beautiful then 
seemed mocking, as the Elf sang in bitter tones to the 
night.  
 
~"Raising my glass,  
I sing a toast to the midnight sky.  
I wonder why  
The stars don't seem to guide me."~  
 
And if the birds could speak, dare they say 'twas not the 
most heartrending lament they had heard, their words would 
be treachery.  
 
--------------------------------------------------------  
 
Hours later, Legolas was beginning to get tipsy. He shook 
his head, ready to return to his chambers, when a warm hand 
again stopped him.  
 
This time, however, the wine caused haze in his mind, and 
the tender touch, of which he already knew the owner, sent 
blood rushing through his veins. His cheeks flushed as he 
turned to meet the brunette's eyes. His voice was unsteady 
when he spoke, and he could hardly tear his gaze from the 
Man's half-parted lips. "Aragorn?"  
 
The Man smiled, and Legolas realized quickly that he was 
intoxicated. The smell of wine hung in the still air, thick 
and heavy, and the scent clouded his mind further.  
 
"Melethron-ne (my love)…" Aragorn's whispered words tore 
Legolas' heart in two. And even if his half-sober state, 
Legolas could summon no strength to deny Aragorn his 
wordless request as the Man's arms snaked around his waist, 
and their bodies molded together, perfectly, seamlessly, 
two halves as one.  
 
~"When will it set me free  
I hear the voices call  
Following footsteps down the hall  
Trying to save what's left of my heart and soul."~  
 
Legolas heard, suddenly, a song from the souls of the many 
who had died before him, flow softly in his mind. He was 
driving himself to his own doom.  
 
"Have you not dreamt of this, lirimaer (lovely one)? Have 
you not wanted this, as I have, for so long?"  
 
Aragorn's words were mere brushes of wind against his ear, 
and Legolas shuddered at the sensation as they broke his 
thoughts, though he could not answer; he knew not how. His 
eyes were drawn towards Aragorn's lips, as always. He 
released a breath shakily, the warm air caressing Aragorn's 
cheek, and tried to move away, his heart heavy as he did 
so.  
 
Finding his voice at last, he whispered, "Nay, my friend, 
you are mistaken. Arwen is waiting in your bedchamber, I am 
certain. Come, insult me not, for I am no maiden."  
 
Yet even as he spoke, Legolas' body trembled, and he cursed 
himself a hundred times for the way he was reacting to 
Aragorn's ministrations. "I sought not a maiden, Legolas."  
 
The Elf's heart raced. /He spoke my name! He is aware, 
then, of who I am! But... but this is madness!/  
 
Nonetheless, he could not believe what he was forcing 
himself to think. "Aragorn… why? Why did you seek me?"  
 
Aragorn did not reply. Instead, his lips sought the Elf's, 
and at last, they crushed together, painfully, 
breathlessly, a fiery explosion of want and lust and need. 
When they finally broke apart to breathe, both Man and Elf 
alike collapsed on the ground, Aragorn's arms pulling 
Legolas flush beneath him.  
 
"Aniron. (I desire)" Aragorn's lips then tackled Legolas' 
neck, nibbling, licking, kissing.  
 
The simple word caused Legolas to stifle a moan, his 
arousal now pressing almost painfully against Aragorn's 
breeches.  
 
And it was madness, but Legolas finally responded. He could 
not fight, *would* not fight, for it was useless, and he 
knew this. Although in his heart, he bled from pain, 
knowing that in the morning Aragorn would not confess his 
undying love, and he wouldn not receive the fairytale 
ending he so desired. Yet, who could resist such 
temptation?  
 
/How ironic, that I should spend years avoiding him, 
rejecting Arwen's offer, and yet on the night before his 
marriage, have no power to resist./  
 
Still, he moved his hands lithely, dancing over the Man's 
body, removing Aragorn's clothing, a bittersweet smile on 
his face when he realized that he was not the only one 
aroused by the activities.  
 
Spurred by the reactions, Aragorn grew bolder. Almost 
roughly, he tore off the cruel breeches that separated bare 
skin from skin, his mouth devouring Legolas' neck as he did 
so.  
 
"Aragorn!" Legolas gasped, as the cool night air fanned his 
heated flesh, robbing him of all coherent thought, 
"Aragorn!"  
 
"I have done nothing yet, a'maelamin, (beloved)" Aragorn's 
words, full of promise, sent sensual chills down Legolas' 
spine, and the Elf arched up into the Man's touch, needing, 
wanting more, impatience blatant in his movements.  
 
Aragorn held his lover down, pressing the milky white 
shoulders into the ground, as he took Legolas into his 
mouth. Legolas let out a sharp exhalation, whimpering as 
Aragorn licked the top of his shaft and pulled back. The 
Elf was painfully hard; to the point where the sharp ache 
of want collided with the sensuality of the real act, and 
fused both pleasure and pain till they were blurs of 
nothing and everything in Legolas' head.  
 
Aragorn's tongue was driving Legolas to the brink of 
insanity. It swirled lightly around his tip, both torturing 
and satisfying at once, before the Man licked the underside 
of the Elf's length and blew on it gently, the cold drop of 
temperature sending tingles of pleasure down Legolas' 
spine.  
 
Then, without warning, the brunette took Legolas into his 
mouth, and began sliding his tongue up and down the other's 
shaft in a fast, furious rhythm. "Elbereth! Estel, saes! 
(Please!) Saes!"  
 
Aragorn began sucking him, then, hard and greedy and 
passionately, bringing Legolas to the brink of climax, 
before stopping, abruptly, and turning his attention to the 
fair skin on Legolas' stomach. He trailed gentle kisses 
there, to his chest, ignoring the Elf's pleas for more.  
 
Stars danced before Legolas' closed lids, inarticulate 
words escaping his fevered lips. "More, please, Estel. Sii 
(Now.) More. Saes." Still, Aragorn ignored him, continuing 
to kiss Legolas' chest, before licking a taut nipple, 
eliciting a low purr of pleasure.  
 
He continued his assault, feeling Legolas twitch and his 
breath catch oftentimes, till the Elf began thrusting and 
twisting wildly, Aragorn's name almost leaving his lips but 
silenced at the realization someone might hear them; and 
his hands curled themselves into the younger Man's longish 
curls.  
 
At last, Aragorn acquitted. Again, he took Legolas into his 
mouth, suddenly, unexpectedly, raking his teeth lightly 
down the Elf's length and sucking harder, though his lips 
had already started to bruise and swell from the pressure 
he was applying. His movements moved in time with the 
blond's thrusts and the blue-eyed Elf had to bite back a 
moan when he felt himself yet again on the edge of climax.  
 
"Estel! Im-boe le-sii! (I need you now)" Legolas choked out 
the name hoarsely. Aragorn continued licking intricate 
patterns, swirling in comforting motions around the Elf, 
whose hips rocked violently at the sensation.  
 
Legolas moaned, praying there was no one else in the 
vicinity, thrusting vehemently into the brunette's mouth 
again and again. Finally he climaxed, fast and furious, his 
hands sliding down from Aragorn's hair to the Man's 
shoulders, fingers digging painfully into the tender skin 
there.  
 
When at last he was spent, Legolas relaxed onto the earth, 
breathless. "Aragorn…" he smiled at the other man's 
erection, which had not yet been taken care of. "I believe 
'tis my turn to repay the favor."  
 
"Nay, for I would like to claim you. To feel you around me. 
My Prince, grant me my request."  
 
"Aye, 'tis granted!" Legolas' words were rushed, too 
quickly was his promise given, and now there was no chance 
of return.  
 
And, watching the smile on Aragorn's face, the moment 
seemed to still, and Legolas could hear a song from his 
childhood, quietly playing in his head.  
 
~Watching the candle flicker out in the evening glow  
I can't let go  
When will this night be over?~  
 
/Alas, I am truly foolish! That I should love a man who 
shalt never be mine. Nay, I am but part fool. Mayhap a true 
fool would not feel as much pain as I, for he would know 
not that this night should last but one night, he would 
know not that Estel shall return to Arwen come first light. 
Ai! Would that I was a true fool! That I should be spared 
such anguish!/ Yet, even as Legolas despaired, he knew this 
was his last moment with Aragorn, the Man he could deny 
naught. And even as he despised himself for his weakness, 
he knew, also, that he would treasure this last moment.  
 
Treasure it though he could only plead and beg and want... 
for when the night was over, he would receive one last kiss 
– sweet and warm, the flavor of pinewood, with a tang of 
spices, and the distinct trace of lemon – which, even as he 
savored, would leave a bitter aftertaste; and that, no 
matter how sweet the kiss, would serve only as a reminder 
of what was not… and could never be.  
 
 
End.