Title: Demon Author: Jadesaber E-mail: jade.saber@verizon.net Dedication: Myougo Pairing: L/A Rating: NC-17 Beta: Un-betad, please let me know if you notice any errors. All mistakes are mine. Warnings: This is SLASH. Extremely AU, Aragorn is not heir to the throne of Gondor, there is no threat of Sauron and no ring; wingfic. Disclaimer: I do not own Aragorn, Legolas, or anything relating to LotR. Wish I did, but my last name is not Tolkien nor is it ever likely to be. Feedback: Always much appreciated even if it’s just good job or hated it. I accept all constructive criticism. Archive: Wherever submitted, otherwise ask first. Author’s notes: This story was written for the August Ficathon at Legolas_Aragorn_Slash yahoo group. This is my first attempt at a true sex scene so be easy on me but let me know what you liked and didn’t like in a review. It’s also my first attempt at a shorter story that is broken up into several parts. There will be sequels to this. I envision a short series, maybe four or five parts. They can be read alone but all follow the same general story. Summary: When Legolas finds a strange, injured being in his forest he takes him in and takes care of him. But stranger and stranger things seem to surround this being and Legolas finds himself oddly attracted to him. Will he act on these feelings? He dodged another sword thrust, catching it on his blade and following up with a thrust of his own. Another man went down. He spun towards his next victim, his wings flaring out behind him to help him balance. He turned glowing red eyes on the older man before him, the leader of the group of rebels. The man shrank back in fear but swung at him anyway. Pushing aside the pain from attacks that had gotten past his defenses the demon moved towards the man. He easily caught the clumsy swing on his sword, turning it aside; these men were farmers, not trained soldiers, though they had obviously had someone train them a bit, for they were at least familiar with a blade, if not completely comfortable and competent with one. As the demon prepared to deliver the death blow a slight movement to his right caused him to turn to see what it was. A moment later a sharp pain spread from his side causing him to jerk backwards and cry out in surprise. Looking down he saw an arrow sticking out of his abdomen. Reacting quickly despite the pain he grabbed the knife from his belt and threw it with deadly accuracy at the archer he had spotted in the tree line. The man went down with a soft cry, the knife lodged in his throat. The demon turned quickly back to his remaining victim and gave another cry of pain as the man took advantage of his momentary distraction to kick out at him, catching the shaft of the arrow sticking out of his body and simultaneously forcing the arrowhead deeper and snapping the shaft off half-way down it’s length. As he stumbled back under this new onslaught of pain to his already weakened body the man lashed out again, catching the demon with his sword and cutting deeply into his flesh, cutting a ragged line from his right shoulder to his left side. Desperate now, feeling his body starting to fail under these new hurts, the demon swung with all his might, surprising the man with his sudden move, and severing the man’s head from his shoulders. Stumbling backwards and letting his sword arm hang loose, sword point dragging a furrow into the soft forest soil, and wings drooping to the ground, the demon looked around him in shock, the red glow fading from his eyes, leaving silver orbs full of sadness and shame in their wake. Clumsily he wiped the blood from his blade and sheathed the weapon. Scattered around him, the bodies of nearly 50 men lay. All of them dead at his hands. All of them farmers who, after being driven to despair by an unfeeling, uncaring lord, had tried to form a small resistance force to help their starving families. Unfortunately that lord had a special weapon. Him. A being of magick that was bound to the service of the Lord’s family, as it had been for many generations. These men were guilty of nothing more then wanting a better life for their families. It was not fair. He staggered over to a tree, leaning heavily on it, wings flapping slightly as he tried to stay upright and then settling around his shoulders like a cloak as he leaned on the tree for support. He glanced back at the dead men, thinking of how much more their families would suffer now. Their fathers, brothers, and sons were dead, that was one less hand around the farm, and for most of them these men were the sole providers. “I am sorry.” He whispered to the spirits of the dead men and their families, though he knew they could not hear him, nor were they likely to forgive him. “I am so sorry. I wish I did not have to do this. I wish we could all be free of him. Forgive me.” With that he pushed off the tree, leaving a faint handprint in blood on the trunk, and staggered off into the forest. His blood dripped steadily onto the ground, but he did not fear leaving a trail for animals to track, none of them would dare approach him; in fact all the forest fell silent as he passed. All feared the demon that had just caused so much carnage and disturbed the peace of the late spring day. His body screamed at him and the world swam in front of his eyes as blood loss took its toll. He made it almost a mile before his injuries finally took their toll on him. Unable to keep going he collapsed to the ground. Unfortunately his wings spread automatically to help him balance and he fell on his left side, trapping the wing between himself and the ground, and snapping the fragile bone. He gave a muffled cry of pain as the bone snapped and his wounds cried out at him from the rough treatment of hitting the ground. Then the blackness rushed up to claim him and he knew no more. The elf patrolled the forest, moving silently and swiftly across the ground, leaving no trace of his passing. He had been patrolling the area for the past two months and would remain here for another month before returning home to the palace of Eryn Lasgalen. Legolas, although a prince, still shared patrol duties with the other warriors. His father, King Thranduil was unlikely to die anytime soon, if at all, for elves were immortal and thus heirs did not have to be guarded so securely. All patrols were on quarterly rotations, one quarter out in the field, one back at home patrolling just outside the palace; then again out in the field and so on. So that no warrior had to leave their family for too long. Their realm was secure and thus there was no reason to keep all the warriors out at all times. So, here he was, carrying out his daily patrol of the area he was assigned. He made his home in a way station up in the trees. It kept him warm and comfortable when the weather was bad and provided him a secure place to keep the few supplies and personal items he had with him rather then carrying them on his back at all times as they had had to do in more dangerous times. Legolas paused as a whisper started through the trees. They told of danger and death and pain. He listened to them for a moment, then moved up to a strong elm and placed his hand gently on the bark and closed his eyes. *What is it? What danger moves nearby?* He asked it, using the innate ability of all wood elves to speak with trees. *Help him. He hurts. He dies.* The tree whispered back, brief glimpses of a dark form and the flash of steel appearing in the elf’s mind. Legolas opened his eyes and looked around, then headed off to his right in the direction he knew the danger to be. Quickly he came across the signs of battle. Scuff marks in the dirt and blood splashes on the ground showed where someone had fought a desperate battle. A few feet away he found the first body. Somehow knowing that this was not the one he sought he moved on. Finding more bodies he started paying more attention to the general area. There were about 4 dozen bodies that he could see. Most looked to have been killed with a sword, but one he found with a knife in the throat, an archer to judge by the crossbow on the ground next to him. The curious thing was that among the red blood of the humans there were splashes of black blood as well. The only creatures he knew of that had black blood were orcs, and orcs were not seen in this part of the forest though they still lingered in some areas on the southern edge of the kingdom. He frowned slightly, trying to decipher the marks on the forest floor. It looked like one person had taken on all of the men around him, which was impossible, even for an elf. And it became increasingly clear that it was no orc either. He could see the prints the men had left but among them were very faint traces of another, their mysterious killer he assumed. The prints were so faint he might have thought them made by an elf if he hadn’t known better. The battle had been fierce and had lasted for about half an hour; and it was obvious that the mysterious fighter had won. Though at great cost it seemed. He found more and more splashes of the black blood. He finally came to the place of the final battle. Here he found large amounts of the black blood pooled on the ground and the fragmented remains of an arrow. He looked towards the archer he had seen earlier. Obviously the archer had hit his target, though how much damage had been done he couldn’t tell. A headless body lay next to the largest pool of black blood, still gripping a sword in its hand. The sword was completely covered in the black blood. A few of the other bodies he had seen also had weapons with black blood on them, but this one seemed to have seen the most battle and done the most damage to the mysterious assailant. Legolas looked around some more and spotted an odd mark on a nearby tree, moving closer he could see that it was a handprint. A handprint made in blood, both black and red seemed to blend together on the bark of the tree. Laying his hand on the trunk near the mark he opened his mind to the tree, searching for its recent memories of the fight. He saw again the dark figure, though he still could not see a face. He had the strange impression of wings, but dismissed it as the strange “vision” that trees seemed to have, for they did not have eyes with which to see and their perception of the world around them was different from the sentient races. He saw the figure finish off the last human, then saw him stagger towards this very tree, laying his hand on the trunk and leaning his weight on it, supporting himself there for a few moments. *I’m sorry.* He heard through the trees memory. *I’m so sorry.* Pulling his hand away he looked towards the ground again. The previously faint marks were now much more pronounced as the maker was obviously gravely wounded and unable to move with as much stealth although they were still faint enough that anyone but a tracker would have trouble seeing them, if it weren’t for the blood splashed liberally on the ground as well. Following this new trail he picked up speed, curious and suddenly desperate to find the being that had made it. Legolas stopped short about a mile from the battle sight. A dark form lay crumpled on the ground. He paused for a moment, taking in what he was seeing. The figure did indeed have wings, as the tree had suggested. One lay pinned beneath the body and the other spread over his face and torso, as if seeking to protect him. The form was obviously male and almost appeared human, from what he could see. He moved closer, cautious, but when no sound or movement came from the form he moved to its side. Unsure of what to do he reached out cautiously and moved the wing from the forms face so he could reach the neck. Checking for a pulse he found a faint one, but it was very slow, the beats spaced too far apart, he only counted 5 beats a minute. He knew of no creature that had a heartbeat that slow. But then again he knew of no beings that possessed wings such as this man had, either. But at least he was alive, for now. Moving to the head of the body he gently rolled it over onto its back to more easily assess the wounds. He immediately saw the remains of the arrow still stuck in the man’s abdomen and the large ragged wound crossing his chest from shoulder to ribs. Many smaller cuts were also visible on the legs, arms, and torso. And one of the wings, the left one, appeared to have been broken, the bone in the top snapped, though how that had happened Legolas was unsure. Possibly during the fight or when the man fell or even before the fight began. The man was dressed entirely in black leather; from calf-high boots to pants to long-sleeve tunic. The only other thing the man wore was a thick silver necklace, looking more like a collar, around his neck. In the front was set a large red stone, possibly a ruby, though it could have been anything. A quick look revealed no seam to show how it fastened in place, but he was unconcerned over it for now. The man’s face was pale under all the dirt and blood and framed by black, shoulder length, curly hair. “You really are a mess, mellon-nin.” The elf muttered to himself. Still somewhat unsure of why he was helping this man when he had obviously just killed many other men Legolas reached out to try to lift the man so he could get him to his home and treat his wounds. He trusted his instincts and the voice of the forest around him, which both urged him to help this strange being. As he started to lift him the man shifted in his grip, moaning softly. He set the man back down and looked at him again, seeing his eyes flutter slightly. They finally opened to mere slits and startlingly bright grey eyes peered up at him. He could see the pain and a great sadness in their depths. Squinting slightly the man opened his mouth to speak, his voice coming out as a dry rasp almost too faint for even elven ears to catch. “Saes.” Then the eyes slid closed again and his head lolled to the side, consciousness fleeing again. Shocked to hear this strange being speaking elvish Legolas just stared at him for a few moments, unsure of what to do. Finally making up his mind he again lifted the man, no easy task with the wings in the way, he managed to the lift the man to a standing position, carrying him was out of the question since the wings would get in the way and Legolas had no desire to hurt the man further. So he draped the man’s right arm over his shoulder and started to half-carry, half-drag the man towards the way station. Part-way there the man again shifted and groaned softly. Legolas paused a moment, glancing at the man’s face. His eyelids fluttered and he shifted again. Finally, he opened pain weary eyes and glanced around. Seeing Legolas he frowned, then seemed to remember where he was and stood up slightly, taking some of his weight from Legolas’ shoulders. “Where?” He mumbled softly, confusion plain on his face. “We are going to my home so I may treat your wounds. It’s all right, I won’t hurt you.” Legolas soothed, tightening his hold on the man as he shifted some more. “Come, we are almost there.” The man’s eyelids drooped again, but he appeared to still be awake. After a few moments he nodded slightly and they started forward again, this time the man was able to stumble along with Legolas’ help. When the reached the bottom of the tree that the way station was in Legolas gently set the man down on the ground, back to the tree, and quickly scaled the tree. He pulled out the pallet stored with the medical supplies and two lengths of rope. Tying the rope to either end of the pallet he then fastened the other ends to a nearby sturdy branch of the tree and then he slowly lowered the pallet to the ground and climbed back down. Looking at the still partially conscious man he frowned. ‘I can’t lay him on his stomach, that could drive the arrow further into him, but his wings will be in the way if I lay him on his back and I fear he would roll off if I place him on his side.’ “How are we going to do this, mellon?” He asked the man softly, not really expecting an answer. “Those wings are not much help right now.” To his surprise the man looked up at him, fear and panic flashing across his face, then he frowned slightly and with a grimace of pain shifted forwards. To Legolas’ amazement the wings started to shift slightly, then they seemed to shrink in on themselves. Moving closer he was shocked to see them actually pulling back into the man’s body. From the look on the man’s face this was a painful process, but after a few moments the wings had disappeared under the skin, leaving only two faint black marks on his back over the shoulder blades. “You are full of surprises mellon-nin.” Legolas stated, moving forward to help the man onto the pallet. Laying him on his back, Legolas then scaled the tree again and began to hoist the pallet slowly and smoothly up to the platform he stood on. Once there he tied the ropes off to hold the pallet in place, then helped the man onto the platform and into the way station. The way station consisted of three rooms, a bedroom, a sitting room, and a supply closet. It was little more than an elaborate tree house, but it was sturdy and well-built. And kept anyone inside warm and dry during even the foulest weather. Special elven warming stones kept the occupants warm without the use of a fire, which would have been too dangerous to use in the tree house. Legolas led the man through the sitting room to the bedroom, laying him gently on the bed. Then he hurried back outside to untie the pallet and mask any evidence of the way station. One of the reasons the way station was so secure was that it would take an elf, or someone elven trained, to climb the tree unaided and the ladder could only be lowered if someone was in the way station already. The way station had been built and designed by elves so with the ladder up, unless you knew it was there, you would never find it. Even a trained eye would find it hard to spot among the branches and leaves of the tree it stood in. Even during winter it blended seamlessly in with the branches of the tree due to a small amount of elven magick. After putting the pallet away Legolas grabbed as many healing supplies as he could carry, and a few jugs of water, and went back to the bedroom. He knelt at the man’s side and began to look him over more critically. The worse wound by far was the deep slash across his chest, followed closely by the arrow wound. The arrow looked to have gone deep and from the damage to the outside of the wound it had probably been forced deeper by some form of direct pressure. Searching for, and not finding any type of fastenings for the man’s tunic, he pulled out his boot knife and prepared to cut the garment off. But before he could start to cut it a hand grabbed his wrist in an iron grip. He looked up, startled, into hard silver eyes. He frowned, puzzled for a moment, then realized what it must have looked like he was attempting to do when the man opened his eyes. ‘He must have thought I sought to finish what those men started.’ He thought. “My apologies, I did not mean to startle you. I simply need to remove your tunic in order to treat your wounds.” Legolas explained soothingly. “I will not hurt you.” The man gazed at him for several moments longer, then his eyes softened and he let go of Legolas’ wrist, his arm dropping limply to the bed. He turned his head away and his eyes slid closed again. Legolas paused, unsure if the man was unconscious again or not. After several moments the man still had not stirred, so Legolas grabbed part of the collar of the tunic, and proceeded to cut it off. After he had managed to get it off he was able to see the wounds more clearly. Large bruises covered the man’s torso and numerous small cuts and scratches were revealed. Grabbing a piece of cloth Legolas proceeded to try and staunch the flow of blood from the gash across the man’s chest. The man moaned softly as he pressed down on the wound and shifted slightly beneath his hands but seemed to truly be unconscious once more for he did not open his eyes or speak. After he managed to stem the flow of blood from the slash Legolas then turned to the arrow wound. It was deep, and very little of the shaft remained sticking out of the body, so he had nothing to grab hold of to pull it out. Resigning himself to having to cut it out he again took up his knife and carefully cleaned the blade. He got several of the heating stones and set them in a circle around a pot in which he put water to heat. Whispering a few words he increased the temperature of the stones. Soon the water was boiling and he tossed some healing herbs in as well. Then he set to work cutting the arrow out. The man shifted and moaned again, louder this time, but still did not wake. Legolas winced as blood started to flow more freely as he finally pulled the arrow free. The blood still flowed black from all of the wounds so he could not tell if any of the blades or the arrow had been poisoned. He again sought to staunch the flow of blood. Once it had lessened enough he soaked a bandage in the water and laid it over the arrow wound and bandaged it, then repeated the process with the slash wound. After he had cleaned and bandaged all of the man’s wounds he sat back and sighed. The man was pale and sweat stood out on his forehead, but he felt cold to the touch so Legolas couldn’t be sure if any of his wounds had become infected or were poisoned. ‘I’ll just have to keep an eye on him and deal with it if the time comes.’ He thought grimly. ‘I hope you wake soon, I have a million questions I desire to ask you.’ With that he proceeded to clean up the mess and then sat down in the rooms’ only chair to watch and wait for the man to wake. With the return of awareness came a return of the pain. Moaning softly he struggled towards full consciousness. After several minutes struggle he managed to pry open leaden eyes and look around. The first thing he noticed was that he was now indoors. He had foggy memories of being hoisted upwards a long way and then being led into a room, but he couldn’t remember any details. The next thing he noticed was the man seated next to him. No, not a man, an elf. And he appeared to be asleep, his deep blue eyes glazed over in elven reverie. He tried to sit up but fell back with a small cry of pain. The elf awoke immediately, jumping up from his chair and looking around quickly. Breathing hard, the man tried to suppress the pain. When it finally subsided he opened his eyes again and gazed into concerned blue orbs. “Don’t try to move. You are badly injured.” The elf said, moving back a little to give him more room. “Are you thirsty or hungry? Can I get you anything?” “Who are you?” The man asked softly, his voice raspy. “Where am I?” “My name is Legolas. This is a guard way station and my home for now.” The elf answered his voice soft and melodic. “I found you in the forest, injured, and brought you here. I have treated your wounds as best I could, but it will take you some time to recover and you will need to rest here for a while.” “Hannon lle.” The man whispered, lying back and closing his eyes. “What is your name?” Legolas asked, very curious about this stranger he had taken in. The man opened his eyes again, weariness and pain evident in them and answered, “Estel.” Legolas frowned, ‘I’ve heard that name before. Estel . . . hope? That is a strange name. And why would he have an elvish name?’ He thought about it for a while but couldn’t remember where he had heard the name before. ‘It’s not important right now.’ He decided. “Where are you from Estel?” He asked next. “And what . . . I mean how . . .?” Legolas trailed off, blushing slightly in embarrassment. “I am from nowhere.” Estel replied softly. “As for what I am, I am cursed.” Legolas looked up at that. “Cursed? How? Why? What do you mean?” “It is a long story. And one I do not want to talk about right now.” Estel answered sadly, looking away. “Alright, you don’t have to tell me.” Legolas said, a little disappointed that the mystery of this man would stay a mystery for a while longer. “But you should rest and eat. You need to regain your strength. Would you like something to eat or drink?” “Water would be nice, thank you.” Estel said, turning to look at Legolas again. Legolas nodded and stood to go get a cup and some more fresh water. He poured some into the cup then helped the man raise his head and held the cup to his lips. Estel sipped the water, drinking more for show then because he really needed it. He rarely needed to eat and drink anymore. He knew he would be hungry in a few days, once his body had truly started to heal itself, but he didn’t want this elf to think him even stranger then he already did. After a few sips he turned his head away, his stomach roiling as the water hit it. He took a deep breath to get the nausea under control and winced as his battered chest protested even that little movement. Legolas saw the wince and picked up an herb from the table next to the bed. “Here, chew this; it will help with the pain.” Estel frowned slightly, looking at the herb like he had never seen anything like it before, then he opened his mouth and Legolas placed it on his tongue. The man chewed silently, lying back and closing his eyes again. After a few minutes the pain started to ebb and he drifted off into a healing sleep. Legolas watched as the man’s breathing slowed and evened out, his face relaxing as sleep claimed him. ‘Beautiful.’ He thought, then his eyes widened as he realized what he was thinking. ‘He is adan . . . I think . . . and I just met him, I can’t be falling for him already. He is handsome though, in a rugged sort-of way. ‘Cursed’ he said. What did he mean by that?’ He looked down on the sleeping face again, feeling his heart go out to this man he had just met. ‘What happened to you? Where are you from? What are you? I guess I’ll have to wait to find out the answers.’ He sighed. ‘Estel. That name seems to suit you somehow. Where have I heard it before? I know I’ve heard it somewhere.’ He sat back in his chair to wait for the man to wake again, and tried to remember where he had heard that name before, and in what context. Three days later Estel was healed enough to get out of bed and walk around. He was also starving. Legolas was amazed at how fast he was healing. ‘He heals faster than an elf.’ He thought, watching the man who was standing on the platform outside the door, enjoying the fresh air. He stepped outside to join the man and paused at his side. “How are you feeling?” He asked, staring out at the forest below. “Better.” Estel answered. Legolas frowned and turned to look at the man, hearing a slight wavering in his voice. “Are you sure? You look a little pale.” Estel shook his head, still staring out at the trees around them, trying to focus on something other then his growing hunger. He needed to eat, but he was afraid to ask this gentle elf who had helped him, for what he needed. Legolas had offered him food numerous times, but it was all things that an elf would normally eat; bread, cheese, and fruits, with some nuts mixed in. He didn’t want to offend this elf, whom he had come to care for deeply, by asking for something else. It really was generous of the elf to share with him, to have even brought him here for that matter. ‘Only one more day. Then I will be well enough to get it myself. I just need to last a little bit longer.’ “Estel, what is wrong?” He could hear the concern in the elf’s voice. When he still didn’t answer Legolas put a hand on his shoulder, meaning to force the man to look at him, to tell him what was wrong. But his frown deepened as he felt the tremble moving through the man’s body. ‘He is not well. He has not recovered as much as he has been telling me.’ “Something is wrong, what is it?” He asked, getting more desperate as he noticed the slight glaze to the man’s eyes and sheen of sweat on his brow. “I cannot help you if you don’t tell me what is wrong. Saes?” Estel finally turned to look at him and quickly grabbed his arm for support as the world began to spin around him. He swayed slightly and Legolas grabbed his other shoulder to help keep him from falling from the platform. Estel closed his eyes and slumped forward, into the elf’s embrace as the hunger overwhelmed him. Legolas, now greatly alarmed half-dragged, half-carried the man back into the station and lay him down on the bed. His breathing was harsh and labored and he groaned as the world continued to spin and his stomach gave a lurch as if trying to rid itself of something that wasn’t there. Legolas grabbed the cup and filled it with more water and helped Estel to drink. Rather then the sips he had taken before this time he swallowed large gulps of water. After he finished the cup he seemed to calm a bit and laid still on the bed, eyes closed, trying to control his breathing. After a few minutes he slowly opened his eyes, testing to see if the room would begin its dance around him again. When it seemed to stay put he fully opened his eyes and turned to look at the elf seated anxiously at his side. “Estel?” Legolas asked hesitantly when the man turned to look at him. Estel’s eyes were a little brighter now, less glazed and far-away looking and his breathing was mostly back to normal. It had truly scared him when the man had collapsed outside. His first thought was that one of his wounds was not as healed as he had thought, but Legolas had seen them with his own eyes, they were all but gone, soon even the scars would be almost undetectable. And he had checked the man so many times over the last few days it was almost impossible that he had some injury he had not found. So it had to be something else. He had a feeling he knew what it was too. The man had continued to refuse all offers of something to eat; insisting that he was not hungry and did not need to eat very often. He still drank sips of water, but for him to actually finish the cup the way he had a moment ago, Legolas had not seen happen before. ‘He has been here for three days. He must be starved. Yet he still refuses any food I offer him. Why?’ Estel tried to smile, but it was a shaky one and he knew it. “I am alright, Legolas. I’m sorry if I scared you.” “You are not alright. You have not been alright all day. What is wrong?” Legolas asked, frustration and worry clear in his voice. Estel sat up slowly, his arms shaking slightly and wary of another dizzy spell. When he was sitting all the way up, leaning against the wall at the head of the bed, he looked down at his hands, then back up at the elf. “I am merely hungry.” He finally admitted, looking back down. “I figured you would be, but why have you not accepted any food when it was offered? And why would you not admit it to me?” Legolas asked, relieved and confused. “I have no appetite for the food you offered me. I could eat it, but it would provide no sustenance for me.” Estel explained slowly, still not sure if he could admit everything to this elf. “Then what is it you need to eat? Is it meat? I can go hunting. It is not a foreign concept to elves. I merely decided to make do with what I had and go hunting when these stores get lower.” Legolas said, still confused. “I had hoped to be able to last another day, until my wounds were fully healed and I could move more easily. My own form of hunting is slightly different from what you are used to. And you would have to . . .” He pulled his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them as if to protect himself. “The meat would have to be fresh.” “You eat it raw?” Legolas asked, for some reason this did not disgust him. Estel shook his head, “No, not raw, alive. It must be . . . alive.” “Alive?!” Legolas asked, now totally shocked. “How can you eat it still alive? What difference does it make to the meat?” “It is not the meat that I consume.” Estel admitted, figuring he had said this much he might as well tell Legolas all of it. “It is the blood. I drink the blood. And it must be living; if I try once the being is dead it will make me ill.” “You drink blood?” Legolas asked, shocked though strangely not repulsed by the idea. “Does it have to be any type in particular? And how much do you need?” Estel looked up at this, shocked that the elf seemed to be taking this so well. He had expected to be shouted at and forced to leave, or even attacked once the elf found out what type of a monster he was. Estel himself had been appalled when he had learned that blood was the only thing that could truly sustain him. Water helped for a short time, but it merely calmed the hunger, it did not nourish him. He could still eat and drink what he wished, when he wished, but it was merely for the enjoyment of the taste or the normalcy of the act itself. He had hated himself even more for it, because it was one more thing that proved he was a monster, and separated him from his life before. It made him hate the one who had cursed him even more then himself. She had had no right to do this to him. He hadn’t seen her for many years. The last time had been almost two decades ago. “I . . . I need . . . ummm . . . no I . . . you don’t mind?” He finally got out around his shock. “You have constantly surprised me, Estel. This is just one more time.” Legolas replied, still somewhat surprised but willing to do anything to help Estel. ‘He has been hurt far too much in the past, I can see that. And it is not his fault he is like this. At least, I doubt it is. I wish you would trust me with your tale mellon-nin.’ “What is it exactly that you need? So I can get it for you.” He asked the man, who still stared at him in wonder and surprise. “I . . . I need something . . . ummm . . .” Estel still seemed to struggle with putting his thoughts into words. He visibly shook himself, which caused the nausea to return and his head to pound. He moaned softly and closed his eyes for a moment to get himself back under control. “Are you alright?” Legolas asked, still worried for his friends safety. “Yes.” Estel hissed out softly, the pain in his head increasing as he tried to push it away so he could focus. ‘Too long.’ He thought. ‘It’s been too long.’ The last time he had actually fed had been almost a week before the fight with the rebels. He had actually been hunting for his next meal when he had been summoned before his master and sent to dispatch the rag-tag group. Unable to disobey an order he had left immediately for the forest to search for them. After almost a day of searching for them he had found one of their old camps and been able to find their trail. It took him another day to actually find the group. By then his hunger had been very noticeable but he was still under orders and he could do nothing about it until his task was complete. Then after killing the group he had been too injured to go find food. And after several days of recovering here he could no longer ignore his body’s demands. He could normally go two weeks without feeding and not suffer too much. But after being injured so severely and his body using up what little resources he had left to heal itself so quickly, he needed to feed . . . now. The pain flared up more and he knew if he opened his eyes the room would have resumed its dance around him. He slumped against the wall more, supporting himself as he felt his body sway, threatening to fall over at any moment. “Estel?!” Legolas called out, alarmed as he saw the man start to sway where he sat, the wall the only thing keeping him upright. Legolas reached out to him, taking the man into his arms and holding him close, hoping to steady him. The man moaned again, his eyes still closed and his face screwed up as if in pain. Estel shifted slightly in the warm arms of the elf, seeking to get closer to the source of warmth and life he could sense. His mind was getting fuzzy, a sure sign that he was suffering from mal-nourishment. His shifting moved his head from the shoulder of the elf, where it had been resting, closer to the elf’s neck. He could smell the blood running beneath the skin and his instincts urged him to bite into the source of life-giving liquid. The part of his mind that was still able to think rationally fought this urge. This elf had helped him; he could not . . . would not . . . hurt Legolas like that. And he would not take what was not offered. But he was unable to keep his tongue from flicking out and tasting the sweetness of the elf’s skin. He felt the elf tremble slightly and heard his gasp. Trying to pull away, both from the temptation and the comfort offered, Estel found himself held more tightly to the elf’s slim frame. “Estel.” Legolas breathed softly. “How much do you need?” Forcing his eyes open, and turning his head slightly to look up into the questioning eyes of the elf, Estel tried to force his mouth to move, to respond. At first all that came out was another moan then he slowly forced the words from his dry throat. “Several . . . pints . . .” His voice was dry and his breathing grew labored again as he struggled to speak. The elf’s brow drew into a frown and he looked away for a moment. Estel again struggled to pull away, expecting to be rejected. But the arms holding him tightened around him again and Legolas looked back at him, seeming to search his eyes for something. Finally, he sighed and shook his head, almost to himself. “Then take what you need, Estel.” He finally breathed, tilting his head to the side so his neck was more exposed and pulling the man up closer to him. Shocked Estel could only stare at the elf in wonder for a few minutes. Then he slowly moved his mouth to the side of the elf’s neck, feeling the strong pulse there. It beat a little faster then normal but was still strong and steady. Again unable to stop himself he let his tongue snake out to wet the skin tenderly. His saliva had some slight numbing capabilities and he hoped to spare this wonderful being; who had cared for him, and now trusted him enough to allow him to feed from him; any pain he could. He laved the spot liberally, and felt the elf shiver again, through fear he thought, how could anyone not be afraid of what he was about to do. Finally, unable to fight his hunger anymore, he lowered his fangs, which the elf had caught only glimpses of before, to the tender skin and as gently as he could he bit down feeling the elf stiffen. Tears sprang to Estel’s eyes and slowly trailed down his cheeks as the blood quickly welled to the surface. He took a quick mouthful and almost gasped in shock. He had never tasted anything like the sweetness of this elf’s blood. It burned as it went down his throat but it spread a pleasant warm, tingling sensation through his body as it reached his stomach. Drinking steadily more he finally wrapped his arms around the elf. Legolas sighed softly and shifted a little, still clinging tightly to Estel as bolts of pure pleasure shot through his body. He could feel the man’s fangs penetrate his throat and feel the pull of the man’s lips as he drank the blood that welled up. He shifted again as the pleasure seemed to shoot straight to his groin and he could feel himself hardening. He closed his eyes as the feelings washed over him. He felt strangely connected to Estel; he could almost feel the desperate hunger that the man felt. And he could sense as it slowly lessened, a strange warmth left in its wake. Unable to stop himself he slowly pushed the man backwards, still keeping a tight hold on him, and lay him out on the bed. Feeling the elf shift again and start to move Estel clutched tighter to him and continued to drink. His hunger had vanished after the first couple of swallows, but he couldn’t stop himself from slowly drinking more. He sucked softly at the punctures his teeth had made, gently urging more blood to well to the surface. He knew that soon the wounds would close but he was determined to sample this delicious taste as long as he could. As the elf lay him down on the bed and moved to lie on top of him he wrapped his legs around the elf’s hips and this time did gasp as he felt Legolas’ hardness press into his own. He clutched the elf tighter and started to grind against him while continuing to taste that sweet essence. He didn’t think he’d ever tasted anything that good, before or since he was cursed like this, and he would do anything to taste it again. Legolas moaned as he felt Estel grind into him. The pleasure spikes still shooting straight from Estel’s mouth to his groin. He couldn’t believe how good this felt. He’d lain with others before, both male and female, mostly elves, but a few adan, but had never felt anything like this. His hands reached around to the front of the shirt he had leant Estel; since he had to destroy Estel’s own tunic when he was tending his wounds. Estel’s pants had survived mostly in tact. Luckily Legolas had been able to find an old shirt of his that was too big for him but fit the more muscular adan fairly well. He struggled for a few minutes to open the fastenings, trying not to move too much lest he cause himself serious damage. He was under no illusions that Estel’s fangs could badly harm him if he moved too suddenly. He finally succeeded in getting it open and pushed the sides apart so he could run his hands over the warm skin beneath. ‘Wait warm? He’s always felt cool to the touch.’ He thought to himself, pausing in his explorations of the man’s soft skin. ‘Is my blood doing this to him?’ He wondered, strangely thrilled by that thought. He quickly pushed the thought aside for later as another bolt of pure desire surged through him. ‘Oh Valar this feels good.’ He ground down with his hips, causing them both to cry out. Legolas began to feel slightly light-headed as Estel continued to suck at his throat. He began to worry slightly but was calmed as Estel finally pulled his face away and then gently licked the punctures, laving them closed. Another shiver of desire ran through Legolas and he again continued his exploration of the man’s chest and abdomen. “Ai, Legolas.” Estel sighed, resting his head back on the pillow and licking the remaining blood from his lips. Legolas’ hands explored all the plains and angles of the man’s body that he could reach, his lips, tongue and teeth not far behind. He pushed the shirt open further, trapping Estel’s arms at his sides as he held the material out of his way. He kissed his way to one of the man’s nipples, suckling softly on it and causing Estel to hiss above him and push towards him, seeking more contact. His arms tugged against their bonds, his hands trying to reach the tantalizing elf above him. Finally easing up slightly Legolas allowed the man to rise up enough to tug the shirt off and toss it on the floor. Then he immediately latched back onto the lightly furred chest and continued his teasing licks and nips. Estel threw his head back and groaned as the elf reached his navel and expertly stabbed it with his tongue, causing the man to harden even more and his already tight leggings to become uncomfortably confining. His arms finally free he reached up and quickly undid the fastenings on the elf’s tunic, shoving it off so he could work on the shirt below. Once both of those obstacles were gone he was able to explore the smooth, alabaster skin of the elf. Amazed at how soft and smooth it was compared to his own he plucked at already peaked nipples and caused Legolas to jerk slightly, again pushing his hips into those of the man. Finally Legolas reached for the waist of the man’s pants, long, slender fingers gently outlining the bulge clearly visible there, causing the man to arch into the touch, desperate now for more intimate contact. He whimpered as the elf tortured him for a few minutes, rubbing the edges of the man’s arousal through his leggings. “Legolas, saes.” He begged. Finally taking pity on him the elf undid the lacings and slowly dragged the leggings down the man’s hips and legs. He watched the man’s shaft spring forth from its confines to stand proudly at attention before him. He laid a quick kiss to the tip before finishing removing the man’s leggings and tossing them on the floor. He quickly removed his own and settled back down over the man. They both groaned loudly as naked skin touched for the first time. Legolas reached between the man’s legs and started to pump the hard shaft gently. Estel cried out, his eyes, which had been closed in pleasure, flew open as the source of his desire was finally touched. “Valar!” He cried out as Legolas shifted downwards to suddenly take the human’s manhood into his mouth. He sucked hard on the stiff flesh, sucking it all the way into the back of his throat. Estel cried out again and tried to thrust further into the warm heat that was enveloping him. Legolas quickly put his hands on the man’s hips, holding him down. Finding this to be a more difficult task then he expected Legolas shifted his weight to hold the man down more firmly. ‘Valar he is strong.’ He thought before once again turning his attention to the organ in his mouth. He licked the vein running along the underside and dragged his teeth along the skin as he slowly rose up, then quickly engulfed him once again. Daring to shift his grip on the man he moved his hands down the hips, closer to the inner thighs, and used his thumbs to gently roll and massage the man’s heavy sacs. He could feel them tighten and the shaft in his mouth twitched. “Legolas . . . close . . . gonna . . . ummm . . . saes.” Estel babbled almost incoherent with need. Legolas drew upwards again and then quickly sucked the man’s shaft back into his throat, swallowing hard around the tip and humming as he continued to manipulate the firm sacs. With a loud shout the man’s hips surged upwards and he came strongly down the elf’s throat. Legolas quickly swallowed all the man had to give, still massaging the man’s sacs and sucking strongly on his shaft, prolonging his pleasure. The man’s body spasmed strongly under him as he cried out again at the prolonged pleasure. Finally, he sank back down to the bed, boneless and completely relaxed, a small smile on his face. Legolas reluctantly let the man’s spent shaft slide from his lips. He licked his lips to sample again the man’s flavor, slightly salty with a pleasant tang to it that he had never tasted before. He looked up at the man, who finally dragged his eyes open to look down at the elf between his legs. “Ai, Legolas,” He breathed, still catching his breath, “I have never felt anything like that before.” “You are truly beautiful, Estel.” Legolas replied, sliding up the man’s body again. “I do not think I will ever tire of seeing you in the throws of passion.” He leaned down and captured the man’s lips before he could form a reply, rocking his still hard erection into the man’s hip. He let the man taste his own essence as he sent his tongue into Estel’s mouth showing him what he would like to do elsewhere. The man groaned around his tongue, sucking on it slightly and causing the elf to moan in return. Finally they separated, both breathing hard. “You have not spent yourself yet.” Estel finally said, still feeling the elf’s hard member digging into his hip. “What can I do for you?” Legolas paused a moment, then said, “Roll over for me.” Estel tilted his head to the side in puzzlement for a moment, then his eyes widened as he realized what the elf wanted and he smirked slightly before quickly rolling over, pinning the startled elf beneath him. “Is this what you wanted, melethron-nin?” He asked. Legolas laughed as he realized the man was teasing him. “You already know the answer to that.” Then he quickly rolled to the side, pushing the man off of him. Estel laughed as well, then settled on his stomach in the middle of the bed. He propped his head up on his crossed arms and turned to look at the elf beside him. Legolas admired the view of the man’s firm back-side before moving to straddle the man’s hips. He rested his weight there to keep the man still, then proceeded to map his back with soft nibbles and kisses. He ghosted over the man’s right shoulder, hands tracing up and down the man’s sides. Estel squirmed slightly, his own man-hood starting to fill again and being pushed into the bedding below him. When Legolas reached the twin dark marks on the man’s shoulder blades he traced his fingers lightly down them and was almost thrown off the man as he bucked wildly beneath him, gasping loudly. “Estel?” He asked, worried. “Did I hurt you?” Estel opened eyes he didn’t realize he had closed and shook his head. “Far from it; I am just very . . . sensitive . . . there.” “Do you wish me not to touch them then?” The elf asked, not wanting to do anything the man was uncomfortable with. “Nay,” Estel replied, his voice slightly husky with desire. “It would please me very much if you did that again, Legolas. It was merely a surprise to me before.” Legolas’ brow furrowed slightly as he again traced his finger-tips across the marks, taking the time to feel the texture of them. Estel groaned this time, shifting beneath him. Realizing that this was a pleasurable spot for the adan Legolas leaned down to nip lightly at the right mark and again was almost thrown off as the man bucked beneath him. ‘I will have to be careful how I touch him there then, else I may end up on the floor.’ He laughed to himself. Then his brow furrowed again as a thought came to him. ‘I wonder if . . .’ “Estel?” He asked, pausing his ministrations. “Ai?” “Can you . . . can you release your wings anytime you wish?” Legolas asked remembering how the man had gotten rid of them several days before. Estel hesitated for a moment, then nodded his head. “Yes.” “Does it hurt?” Again Legolas remembered that day, remembering again the look of pain on the man’s face as the wings had disappeared back into his body. It was Estel’s turn to furrow his brow in confusion. He turned his head until he looked up at the elf atop him. “Why?” “I . . . they . . . ummm . . .” Legolas blushed fiercely, and looked away, unable to meet the man’s eyes. “What is it, Legolas?” Estel asked, worried that the elf was finally realizing that he was a monster and would now turn on him. “I would like to feel them.” Legolas finally whispered, still not looking at the man. “You . . .” Estel was stunned, no one had ever wanted to be near him after they found out what a monster he was, and yet here was this elf, who had not only helped heal him, but was now sharing his bed, and he wanted to see one of the very things that Estel had always seen as a curse. He closed his eyes, and turned away from the elf, then inhaled deeply and focused. Legolas felt the man tense under him and looked down quickly. He watched in fascination and shock as the marks on the man’s back shifted as if something was seeking to escape from under the skin. Then they cracked down the middle, blood trickling from the wounds down the man’s back and over his sides to the sheets below. Legolas gasped at this. He hadn’t thought about how the wings would appear. He hadn’t been able to see the man’s back clearly when he had retracted them before. He opened his mouth to tell Estel to stop, he didn’t want the man to hurt himself for him, he wanted to protect him from pain. But before he could make a sound the wings slowly started to emerge. Estel trembled beneath him as the wings continued to push their way upwards. Slowly they unfurled until the man was able to spread them to their full length, traces of blood still glistening on the black feathers and small trickles still running down his back. The man finally let out a gasp of pain as he stretched his wings, his hands, which had clenched into tight fists during the process slowly unclenched as the pain receded. He simply lay there for many moments, breathing hard and waiting for the pain to pass. A few minutes passed before he became aware of a soft cloth slowly sweeping across his back. He turned his head slightly, looking up at the elf, and could see tears in the deep blue eyes. Legolas gently wiped up the blood from the man’s back using a bandage he had left on the table next to the bed just in case. When he was done he dropped the cloth on the floor next to the bed and just stared at the feathered appendages spread before him. The blood was no longer visible on the feathers, having either dried or been absorbed, he wasn’t sure which. Raising a shaky hand he cautiously reached out to touch one of them and was surprised when it moved towards his hand. His eyes rose to meet those of the man below him, and he was surprised to see the love and trust radiating from them. “I am sorry, Estel. I didn’t know . . . I . . . I would never had asked if I had known it would hurt you that much. I didn’t think.” He said softly. Estel shook his head and smiled up the elf. “It is alright. I am . . . used to the pain. It passes quickly. And it was not your fault. I did not have to do it.” Legolas nodded, a single tear tracing down his cheek as he finally rested his hand on the soft feathers, feeling their silky texture. They were as soft as anything he had ever felt. They ruffled beneath his hand, Estel shifting slightly and groaning. If he hadn’t already been watching the man’s face he would have thought it was in pain, but the look of sheer bliss that shown on the man’s features reassured him. He placed both hands on the downy softness laid out before him, running his fingers through the feathers, careful not to pull them. Another groan drifted up to him and Estel arched beneath him, for all the world like a cat being petted and seeking more attention. Running his fingers over the top of the wings he was surprised to hear the man’s sharp intake of breath and feel him start to grind himself down into the bed, seeking friction for his ever increasing arousal. Legolas’ own arousal was throbbing and he couldn’t help shifting to grind it into the man’s lower back. Continuing his ministrations to the man’s wings he slipped further down the man’s body, nudging his legs apart until he could settle between them. “Estel,” Legolas whispered, awed at the effect he was having on the man through such a simple thing as touch. “How do you want to do this?” Estel gasped, bolts of pure pleasure running through his body like lightening. He struggled to make his mind process what the elf had said and to form a response. It wasn’t easy. His mind was clouded with lust and pleasure. He knew he could come again, and soon, from simply this touch. But he didn’t want to. He needed to feel the elf as well. Needed to see him. “Want to see you.” He managed to get out, groaning loudly. Legolas nodded and let go of the delicate wings to move off the man so he could turn over again. Groaning slightly in disappointment as the wonderful touch stopped, Estel quickly rolled back over onto his back, careful of his wings, and again arranged himself on the bed. He slid a pillow beneath his shoulders to help keep some of the pressure off his wings, he normally couldn’t lay on his back when he had them out, but he needed to see his elf. Legolas knelt again between the man’s already spread legs, hands again caressing the man’s wings, making him close his eyes in ecstasy, before pausing. “Estel, I need to go find something to ease the way.” He said, moving to stand. Estel wrapped his legs around Legolas, keeping the elf in place, and shook his head. “I need no preparation. I am ready for you already. Saes, Legolas, I need you now.” Frowning Legolas replied, “I don’t want to hurt you, Estel. You have seen enough pain in your life.” “There will be no pain.” Estel assured him, reaching down and gripping the elf’s erection firmly. “I am ready. I am always ready.” Still not entirely convinced Legolas reached down and gently massaged the entrance to the man’s body. It pulsed under his fingers and after a moment he gently pressed against it. He was surprised when his finger was easily inserted, feeling no resistance to the intrusion. He massaged the inner walls of the man’s passage and was rewarded as they rippled and flexed around him. He groaned, suddenly feeling the need to be inside the man, now. The passage was slick and he easily slipped two more fingers inside. He curled them and Estel shouted as he massaged his pleasure spot. Smiling wickedly Legolas continued to massage that spot and reached out with his other hand to massage and fondle the man’s wings again. Estel jerked beneath him, throwing his head back at the double onslaught of pleasure and moaning the elf’s name. “Ai . . . Legolas . . . too much . . . I can’t . . . ai . . .” Estel babbled breathlessly, tossing his head from side to side. “Come for me, Estel.” Legolas said, his voice low and husky. “I want to see you.” He could feel the man’s passage start to ripple harder, the walls massaging his fingers and he groaned as well as he imagined that feeling around his aching elf-hood. He gave one last swipe of his fingers to the man’s pleasure spot and gentle scrape of his nails on the very tip of the wing and then Estel was coming for the second time, shouting as he arched up off the bed, wings flapping quickly several times. His essence shot from him in pearly streams to paint his chest and stomach and part of the elf’s arm. As he collapsed back to the bed, boneless again, Legolas withdrew his fingers. He positioned himself at the man’s entrance and waited for the man to breathe out before pushing slowly inside. Estel moaned weakly as he felt he elf slowly filling him. Only partly conscious, mind still recovering from the earth-shattering climax he had just experienced, he could only lie there and let the elf have his way with him. Once he was fully sheathed Legolas let out a shaky breath. Even though Estel was fully relaxed and had been as fully prepared as he had said, his warm, velvety depths still gripped the elf firmly and he had to fight to stay in control, fight the desire to just plunge into those waiting depths and drive towards completion. He forced himself to wait, wanting the man to be a full participant in this part, but after several moments with no sign of the man waking from his sated stupor his hips began to pump slowly on their own. He leaned forward to capture the man’s mouth with his own and they both groaned as he shifted inside Estel. The man slowly responded to him, his own hips already starting to push back against him, though weakly at first, but slowly gaining in strength. He could feel Estel’s manhood stirring again against his belly and was impressed with the man’s resilience. Very few could keep up with Legolas’ voracious sexual appetite. He kissed his way from the man’s mouth, down his neck, leaving small love bites behind. He traveled down to the man’s shoulders and then started to kiss the graceful arc of one beautiful wing. Estel shuddered and groaned beneath him, pushing back against him even more. He felt calloused hands caress his back before drifting down and grabbing his back-side firmly, pulling him forward in time to his thrusts. His speed quickly increased as he thrust harder and harder into the willing body beneath him. He continued to nip and nibble on the man’s wings as his hands drifted down to play with the man’s nipples briefly before finally reaching for the man’s again fully erect organ. He wrapped his hand firmly around it and started to pump it in time to his own thrusts. The man’s moans increased in volume as he pushed first up into the elf’s fist then down onto his member, impaling him ever farther into the wonderful heat and tightness of his body. Estel purposely flexed the muscles of his passage, massaging the elf’s member even harder and drawing a prolonged groan from him. He placed his feet flat on the bed for extra leverage and pushed back harder and harder, urging the elf to claim him completely. “Estel . . . close . . .” Legolas said, speeding up both his thrusts and his hand on the man’s shaft. “Same . . . gonna . . .” Estel replied, panting harshly, head thrashing from side to side and hands clenching the elf’s back-side so hard he was going to leave bruises. With a final shout of the elf’s name the man came for a third time, coating his stomach and the elf’s hand with his essence. The walls of his passage clamped down like a vice on the elf inside him, holding him inside and rippling along his length, milking him. Legolas cried out incoherently as his own climax took him. He shot his seed deep into the man’s body, waves of pleasure sweeping over him and washing him away. As he slowly came back to himself, Legolas became aware of a hand soothingly rubbing his back. He shifted slightly and moaned. ‘I feel completely drained, and sated.’ He thought in wonder. ‘Usually it takes several times, but this . . . wow.’ He finally managed to push himself up on his arms to look down at the wonderful man below him. He smiled as he saw sleepy gray eyes struggle open to look up at him. Estel smiled softly at him, still caught in the after glow. “Estel, that was . . . that was . . .” Legolas struggled for words to describe what they had just experienced. “Perfect.” Estel whispered back. Legolas simply nodded, then he rose up to shift over to his side, his now soft member slipping from the man’s body. He reached over the side of the bed for something to clean them both off with and grabbed the first thing to come to hand. It happened to be his tunic but he didn’t care as he tenderly wiped the drying cum off the man and then wiped his hand off. Tossing it back onto the floor he watched as Estel shifted onto his side, facing the elf. Legolas curled up to him, wrapping an arm around his waist and pulling the man’s head to rest on his shoulder. Estel sighed contentedly and shifted closer, one of his wings coming up to drape casually over them both. Pulling the blankets over them both they settled down together, and quickly fell asleep. The End, for now.