Title: Elf on a Hot Tile Roof 
 
Author: Ilye 
 
Email: ilye_elf@yahoo.co.uk 
 
 
Summary: Things get steamy on the roof of the Last Homely House...A/L 
slash. This can be either taken as an alternative ending to my other fic 
“Don’t Fade Away” at chapter 22, and the plot pretty much finishes there, 
or can stand alone, making it a PWP. 
 
Rating: NC-17 
 
Disclaimers: The usual, I don't own this... 
 
Author’s Note: This song is taken from “Bad” by U2 (I don’t own this, 
either!!) 
 
 
 
****************** 
 
Elf On a Hot Tile Roof 
 
****************** 
 
Aragorn sat for a long while, listening to the bewitching, desolate song of 
the Elven Prince. He felt his heart cleaving as he perceived the distressing 
lyrics and the gentle, haunting melody that floated down from the tiled 
roof, and shook his head slowly as he realised the anguish that Legolas 
must be suffering. And it was all due to him. 
 
*************** 
 
If I could throw this 
 
Lifeless lifeline to the wind 
 
Leave this heart of clay 
 
See you walk, walk away 
 
Into the night 
 
And through the rain 
 
Into the half-light 
 
And through the flame 
 
*************** 
 
Suddenly the singing grew quieter again, and the Ranger managed to 
glimpse the slim figure standing and walking cautiously over to the far 
edge of the roof. Legolas now had his back to Aragorn again, and the 
perfect hemisphere of the setting sun outlined his black silhouette. The 
song changed again, this time much louder, and the King gasped as he 
heard the new, heartrending lyrics and saw Legolas lean further over the 
edge, teetering forwards, arms outstretched as if he expected to soar from 
the roof and into the growing dusk. 
 
*************** 
 
If I could, through myself, 
 
Set your spirit free 
 
I'd lead your heart away 
 
See you break, break away 
 
Into the light 
 
And to the day 
 
To let it go 
 
And so to fade away 
 
To let it go 
 
And so fade away 
 
If you should ask then maybe they'd 
 
Tell you what I would say 
 
True colours fly in blue and black 
 
Bruised silken sky and burning flag 
 
Colors crash, collide in blood shot eyes 
 
To let it go 
 
And so to fade away 
 
To let it go 
 
And so fade away 
 
*************** 
 
Aragorn was shocked by the sudden change in his friend of old and the 
actions that he was taking on the roof…surely he was not going to jump? 
He leapt to his feet and immediately began to scale the ivy that climbed 
the great stone walls of the house as quickly as possible, lest his friend 
jump ere he had chance to stop him. 
 
It took him several minutes to reach the roof, for the house was four 
stories high, and he tumbled onto the tiles panting hard. As he lay 
sprawled on the tiles, trying desperately to get his breath back, he turned 
his head to see that Legolas was still standing on the edge of the roof 
singing, and heaved a sigh of relief. 
 
The Prince did not seem to have noticed the Ranger’s presence, and 
continued to sing to himself as he stood hovering at the edge of the roof, 
gazing out into the crimson light of the setting sun. Aragorn cleared his 
throat and called the Elf’s name softly. “Legolas? Legolas, what are you 
doing? Come away from the edge…” 
 
The blond Prince’s head snapped round in shock as he heard his name, and 
his bright blue eyes widened when he saw the figure standing across the 
sloping roof. “What do you want?” he asked impassively, sending knives 
of anguish through Aragorn’s heart. The Ranger looked at the Elf 
beseechingly. “I…I heard you singing,” he replied feebly, at a loss for 
anything else to say. 
 
The Elf’s eyes now narrowed, and he looked at Aragorn coldly. “You have 
done this to me. Look at me. I am weak; I am dying.” Aragorn looked at 
Legolas in disbelief. “But I can save you,” he countered softly. “You can 
be saved.” 
 
But the Elf was not finished speaking. “You cannot save me, for I will not 
allow it. Consider Arwen, Estel; you love her, and she has surrendered her 
Immortality for your love. You cannot forgo her, I refuse to let you.” 
Aragorn opened his mouth to interrupt, but Legolas continued talking and 
cut him off. “And you obviously do not know me at all if you think that I 
would bind myself to another. I would have to depend on them for the rest 
of my days; I would be weak and have no independence. That is hardly 
likely to happen, now, is it?” His voice had become icy whilst he was 
talking, but it softened as he turned away from the Man standing before 
him to stare into the fires of Arien once more. “So you see, I have no 
choice. I cannot allow myself to fade away, for no doubt someone would 
save me when it got to the stage that I could no longer choose. And I 
cannot imagine that it would be a pleasant death, either.” 
 
Aragorn shook his head, astounded. Surely Legolas was not thinking… 
 
The Elf continued to speak, his voice now little more than a whisper. “I 
would rather be refused access into the Halls of Mandos than accept any 
of the other choices. Perhaps my spirit could find peace and freedom as it 
roams the lands created by Ilúvatar until the End of Days.” He turned to 
Aragorn once more, and fixed him with his piercing sapphire eyes. “Do 
not blame yourself, Estel, you could not help the affairs of my heart,” he 
murmured, his whole body showing the truth behind his words. “I love 
you,” he finished, and then turned his back on the Man again, stepping up 
to the very edge of the tiles. He spread his arms wide, as he had before, 
and allowed his weight to fall slowly forwards into nothingness. 
 
The golden-haired Prince closed his eyes as he felt the cool breeze 
brushing his already-cold skin and blanked his mind in preparation for the 
rush and serenity that was to follow…but it never came. A pair of strong 
arms encircled his waist and pulled him back into the middle of the roof, 
well away from the edge, before Aragorn turned around and kissed him 
forcefully. He felt the now-familiar heat rising beneath his breastbone, and 
desperately tried to pull back. The King allowed him to withdraw from his 
lips, but kept a firm grip on his waist lest he attempted anything again. 
 
“Never, ever even consider leaving me,” growled Aragorn fiercely, and 
Legolas was slightly taken aback bythe force of his voice. “I love you, 
also; you are my dearest friend, although I admit that now I feel something 
else besides, and I will never let you die if I can act otherwise.” He gazed 
into his friend’s eyes again; stony grey met sapphire blue, and Legolas 
suddenly understood the depth and sincerity of his words. He gazed back 
for a few moments, and almost instinctively he felt himself leaning 
towards the Ranger who held him so tightly, and caught his lips within his 
own. Aragorn kissed back hard, and Legolas felt his soul almost fly out of 
his body from the passion and sweetness of the kiss, and the now-searing 
pain that burned satisfyingly behind his sternum.  
 
The Ranger raised one hand from the Elf’s waist and brought it up to grasp 
the back of his golden head, entwining his fingers in the silken locks and 
pulling Legolas even deeper into the kiss. He smiled inwardly as he felt 
the Prince’s icy skin grow warm beneath his fingers, and continued to 
explore Legolas’ mouth with his tongue.  
 
Eventually both drew back from the other’s mouth, gasping for breath, and 
restored the gaze that had been broken earlier. Legolas frowned slightly at 
Aragorn. “But what of Arwen?” he asked solemnly, pressing his glistening 
lips together nervously. The King smiled wistfully at the Prince. “I have 
spoken with her; she wanted me to save you. I suspect that she will sail 
West to Valinor, where she will spend the rest of her Mortal days with her 
mother whom she barely knew.” Legolas nodded in comprehension, and 
looked up hopefully at Aragorn. “Are you sure that you wish to do this? It 
will be…” 
 
Aragorn silenced him with another fervent kiss, and this time Legolas 
nearly flew off the roof from the sparks that exploded inside his heart. He 
moaned into the Ranger’s mouth, who drank in the breath hungrily. His 
rough, calloused hands came up to unfasten the buttons of Legolas’ shirt, 
and the Elf began to do the same. Before long both were standing, bare-
chested, on the tiles without even having broken the kiss, running their 
hands over the other’s body. Legolas felt intense heat rising under the 
Man’s strong, fiery fingers, and wondered idly how blisters had not 
formed on his skin. He moaned again as one large hand came down to rest 
on his buttock and withdrew from Aragorn’s hot mouth again, desire and 
lust shining in his cerulean eyes. 
 
The King nodded wordlessly and gently lowered the Elf onto the tiles, 
laying him on top of his shirt, which he spread out beneath the alabaster 
skin. He smiled adoringly down at the beautiful figure below him and 
began to bestow tender butterfly kisses from the delicate pointed ear, 
down the jaw line and column of perfect cream throat, and onto his chest. 
He licked hungrily at one of Legolas’ nipples, inducing a gasp from the 
fair Prince, who brought both hands up and twisted them in the Man’s 
thick, dark hair, inciting him to continue. Aragorn chuckled, his breath 
tickling the Elf’s bare skin, and continued to tease the flesh until it was 
hard and erect. He quickly grew bored with that, however, and swiftly 
moved on to place another series of delicatekisses down the smooth, firm 
abdomen, drawing shudders from the beautiful creature below him. 
 
Legolas gasped when he felt a hand enter the waistband of his leggings, 
and he quickly brought his hands down to fiddle with the laces that 
fastened them only to have them gently swatted away. The King looked up 
from between the Elf’s long, slender legs and grinned. “I am doing the 
healing here, Legolas; allow me to continue in my own way!” The Prince 
opened his mouth to protest, but Aragorn swiftly moved back up his body 
and silenced any remonstrations with another burning kiss that left the Elf 
gasping for breath. He looked down, ready to complain about the loss of 
contact, but was astounded to find that his boots and leggings had been 
expertly removed and were lying in a heap a short distance away. He went 
to smile at this fact, but the motion was soon replaced by a sharp intake of 
breath as he felt Isildur’s Heir take him deep enough in his mouth to 
choke. 
 
A hot tongue swirled down his shaft and he flung his head back against the 
roof, arching into the contact, but found that his hips were restrained by 
one strong hand on either side. He moaned in frustration, and the sound 
caused the Ranger to chuckle softly. The frustrated moan soon turned into 
a groan of pleasure, incited by the gentle vibrations that ran across his 
Elfhood from the Man’s laugh, and he began to move his mouth up and 
down, running his tongue across the top of the head and eliciting 
delectable moans from the squirming Prince. 
 
Legolas twisted and writhed from the complete and utter pleasure that was 
being bestowed upon his flesh, and he felt the throbbing heat in his loins 
rising and winding around his body, leaving him feeling full and satisfied 
all over. The Man between his legs continued his exquisite torture, and 
suddenly Legolas’ fists balled at his sides, his back arched, and he cried 
out in his release. He closed his eyes and saw stars more beautiful than 
had ever graced the night sky, whilst the King whose name he called 
sucked and licked at his member until he had swallowed every sweet last 
drop of his silvery seed. He then moved to the Elf’s side once more and 
took his shivering body in his warm, strong arms, kissing his neck and jaw 
delicately until the Prince had had chance to recover. 
 
Legolas was still euphoric from the effects of his potent orgasm, but he 
still felt as though he was not completely fulfilled. He cupped the 
Ranger’s cheek in one hand and lifted his face so that they were looking 
one another squarely in the eye. Aragorn immediately saw the wordless 
request in the Elf’s brilliant blue orbs, and raised an eyebrow. “Are you 
sure?” he queried tentatively. “I…I do not wish to hurt you.” 
 
Legolas chuckled softly. “You wish to heal me, do you not? For it is the 
only way, and the love that will relight my spirit will more than cancel out 
the slight pain.” He paused, and looked into the King’s eyes with doubt 
suddenly shining in his own. “That is, unless you do not wish to…I will 
understand…” 
 
But Aragorn gave him no chance to finish. He plunged his tongue deep 
into the Elf’s open mouth to silence him; he brought one hand up to caress 
the pale cheek as he straddled the slender hips, and greedily swallowed the 
moan from the Prince as he took the other hand down and carefully 
inserted one digit into the tight opening. Legolas squirmed underneath him 
as he adjusted to the invasion and then lifted his pelvis, only to bring it 
back down hard onto Aragorn’s finger. The Man smiled into the Elf’s 
flawless mouth as they kissed, and inserted one more finger, soon 
followed by another. He scissored his fingers gently inside Legolas, 
tenderly preparing him, and then began to probe within until he discovered 
the Elf’s sweet spot. 
 
Legolas closed his eyes again as a new wave of pleasure and warmth 
swept over him, and he groaned ecstatically as Aragorn readied him, only 
to whimper as the contact was lost. After a few moments, he looked up to 
see that the Man had removed his leggings, and was returning to his side. 
Two strong fingers came up to his mouth and he sucked them hungrily, 
well aware of what was about to come; he felt a wetness at his opening 
again, before Aragorn interlaced their fingers together and slowly entered 
the Elf. 
 
Legolas growled in ecstasy as he felt Aragorn’s length inside him, and he 
wiggled his hips and spread his legs wider to allow deeper entrance. The 
Ranger looked somewhat bemused at the unexpected noise but, seeing that 
he was not causing the fair Prince any pain, sheathed himself fully inside 
the Elf before he began to gently rock his hips backwards and forwards, 
swiftly establishing a steady rhythm. 
 
Legolas saw stars as he felt Aragorn filling him completely, and a 
completely new warmth now surged through his veins, so like and yet so 
different from that which he had previously felt from the Ranger’s touch. 
He was utterly powerless to do anything apart from lie there and moan 
incoherently as the Dunedan bestowed both carnal and emotional bliss 
upon him. The increasing waves of pleasure surged through his flesh as 
Aragorn hit his sweet spot time and time again, rousing his already 
stiffening member again and bringing him ever closer to the brink of 
release. At the same time he could actually feel the flames in his soul 
stirring from the magnificent heat that Aragorn emitted inside him; he 
could feel a fluttering warmth inside his ribs and the feeling of 
contentment that he had not felt for almost a year now.  
 
The King continued to move inside the Elf, thrusting long and hard and 
deep, and enjoying the delectable, incomprehensible moans that the 
exquisite creature uttered beneath him. Suddenly, and all too soon for both 
their liking, Aragorn felt Legolas’ inner muscles clamp down on him hard, 
saw the Prince’s eyes roll into the back of his head, heard him cry out his 
name, and felt a smooth, liquid warmth spread over his stomach. He was 
no longer able to hold back his own release, either, and came inside his 
lover soon after the other had peaked.  
 
He collapsed onto Legolas’ chest, exhausted; both were shivering from the 
incredible force of their orgasms, but Aragorn could feel a distinct heat 
radiating from the Elf’s firm, pale chest, and took the floppy figure gently 
in his arms as he removed himself from lying on top of his lover and 
settled down next to him. He felt himself warming from the heat emitted 
from the Prince, and sighed happily as he stroked the fair head and 
wondered lazily at the Elven race in general. 
 
Legolas was still physically unable to do anything but lie limply, and 
allow Aragorn to do with him as he wished. At the moment of their 
release, fireworks had exploded inside him and he had felt his spirit burst 
into flames again; everything had gone black for several moments and all 
that he had been able to sense was the raging fire inside his ribcage. 
Eventually he recovered his senses enough to realise that he was lying in 
Aragorn’s arms, and that the King had fallen asleep. How long had he 
blacked out for, he wondered incredulously? He gazed dotingly at his 
lover for several moments, until his eyes began to drift from alert to vacant 
as sleep beckoned him, and eventually he laid his head upon the 
Dunedan’s bare chest and allowed slumber to overpower him, the feelings 
of ecstasy that he had never felt before still coursing through his veins. 
 
The End