Title: Guardian Angel Author : Lady Darkmoon (Sabylmoonshadow@aol.com) Pairing(s): Legolas and Aragorn Rating: NC17 Summary: When Legolas risks his life to save Aragorn's, the man is not all that happy. Disclaimer: No Matter how much I wish it, none of the people in this story are mine, much to my distress. If you wish to sue me, which if you do, all you will get is a shredded pair of underwear. I don't think that many people will want it, but if YOU do, call 1 800 GOKU NOW. I mean it!! Wait!I have a Pokemon mouse pad as well. Yuck. Well, have fun. ************************************************************ ************ Chapter One: A Losing Battle? The wind howled in through the valley off the surrounding hills. The gale ruffled the hair and stirred the limbs of various wounded or dead creatures. Elves, Men, and Orcs. But the continued sounds of battle disrupted the morbid sense of serenity. The clash of weapons and the cries of dying beings tore through the late afternoon air. From his hilltop perch, Aragorn could see the entire battlefield; even trace the path the battle had thus taken. He didn't have time to either scorn or admire the grim, almost beauty of the gory valley. Because, you see, the battle was still in progress. And Aragorn was in the middle of it all. Surrounded by Orcs, as well. Aragorn was pretty hard pressed. He was exhibiting amazing fighting skills, his sword blocking, feinting and slashing, a graceful play of rippling muscles. He was in the process of trying to fight off three orcs, all at once, and doing a pretty damn good job. He twisted, bringing his blade across low to block a gut swing, then followed through by spinning counter-clockwise, with the sword going out wide to slash one hapless Orc's throat, while catching the lower section of another's axe to prevent his own disembowelment. He locked in close to the axe-wielding Orc, it's foul breath forcing his face into a grimace of disgust. Grinning, the foul creature opened it's mouth and breathed on him. Gagging, Aragorn stumbled backwards, nearly brought to the point of retching by the awful stench. The Orc pursued him, grinning it's horrible grin. Aragorn caught himself, swinging around it time to intercept the blow of another Orc, this one wielding a sword, against his own blade, changing the direction of the Orc's sword, then driving forward, imbedding the Orc's gut with it's own weapon. It keened eerily, thrashing wildly, caught in it's death throes. Aragorn's attention turned back to the more immediate threat of the axe-bearing Orc. That was a mistake. While Aragorn was distracted by the Orc bearing down upon him, the now dying Orc behind him, which had appeared to be in it's death throes, did continue it's wild thrashing, but had also pulled out a last-resort weapon. A small, vicious dagger gleamed in a foul hand. The expiring Orc struck, as the axe Orc smiled with triumph. Bright, agonizing pain in the back of his legs caused Aragorn to catch his breath sharply. For a moment he almost believed himself hamstrung. He managed to break out of the melee to briefly glance down at the damage to his legs. A thankfully shallow, although painful, slice, ran a jagged line from about an inch below the knee on the right side, to almost the ankle on the back of the left leg. The Orc that had cut him was now dead. But the other one yet lived. And it was advancing on Aragorn at an extremely fast rate. Aragorn got his blade up to deflect much of the momentum from the first swing of the axe, but obviously the wound in his legs was worse than he had thought, because even lessened, the force of the blow forced him down to his knees. His sword dropped from his hand, which had gone numb in the effort of defeating the strike. The Orc smirked, triumphant. Aragorn closed his eyes on the sight of the descending axe, and turned his face away, awaiting death. The blow never struck. Aragorn turned sharply, curious about the sudden strange noises coming from the Orc. The axe fall heavily from it's upraised hands as strange gurgling sounds emerged from its mouth. Aragorn looked on in shock as the Orc fell forward, still gurgling faintly, with blood streaming in great gouts from it's maw, practically into his lap. A gold-fletched arrow protruded from the back of the creature's neck. Aragorn raised his eyes. Further down the field, Legolas slowly lowered his bow, his discarded sword shimmering on the ground near his feet. He slowly smiled and raised a hand in salute just as a swarm of ravenous Orcs fell upon the undefended elf. Fear for his friend leaving a trail of burning, bitter bile in his throat, Aragorn leapt to his feet, grasped wildly at his sword, and plunged down the hill, baying a war cry. Hoping he wasn't too late. Gods, let him not be too late. Chapter Two: Pledge Legolas casually leaned against the doorjamb of the makeshift infirmary, located in the great hall of the castle that countless Men and Elves, along with some members of the other races, were using as their base. He was also discreetly stopping the flow of blood from a wound in his midriff, waiting his turn to be put back together. He was smiling as he watched Gimli, one of his friends, being tended by an Elven nurse. He had suffered a nasty blow to the shoulder, and needed stitches. He was making it his duty in life to complain about Orcs, needles, nurses, Orcs, callous doctors, Orcs, Elves, Men, Orcs, bad ale, and especially ORCS. Legolas was still smiling at the Dwarf's antics when a voice sounded at his elbow. "Legolas, come sit down and let me have a look at that." He looked down with surprise, mingled with relief, at the short figure standing next to him. Frodo. "It's good to see you made it through the battle alright. I was worried about you and the other Hobbits." Legolas said, a smile evident in his tone as he obediently followed Frodo to one of the long benches being used as examining tables. "We had more reason to be worried about YOU, my Elven friend. We weren't exactly in the actual battle, just sort of on the sidelines, helping those wounded that made it to us to safety. Sam, Merry, Pippin and I got drafted in as nurses as well." Frodo motioned for Legolas to sit. He did so, wincing slightly, and doffed his tunic. Frodo, noticing the wince, pushed Legolas's arm up to see the damage. It wasn't all that bad, considering the type and gravity of the injuries he had already patched up today, but it was still pretty nasty. Starting in deep about half a foot below his right arm, a gradually shallowing slice ran across Legolas's chest and down, ending a little below his left thigh. The wound was completely filthy, and the elf had already lost quite a bit of blood, considering the pallor that was noticeable even on the pale elf. Frodo bent to the painful task of cleaning it. "You're lucky this wasn't any deeper. If it had been, you would have most likely been gutted. As it is, I can see your ribs in this top part here. Anyway, I thought you were wearing armor." Frodo bantered soothingly as he gently swabbed the wound. "I was indeed wearing armor." Legolas muttered protestingly, and flinched as Frodo gave a sharp (to him) tug. "Then how did you get a leaf stuck up in here? Did you climb one of the little trees out there? Not to mention how you managed to get hurt in the first place, but I won't ask that one, because even though everyone in here was wearing armor, they still managed to get wounded." Frodo tossed the leaf aside, finished cleaning, and swiftly threaded a needle and began to sew up Legolas. "Well, yes, I did climb a tree, and the armor was a little too bulky, so I removed some pieces then, and I...ah...lost some of the other pieces while fighting. You are cruel, friend Frodo, giving your patients nothing to numb the pain of your tending with." Legolas grinned through the pain as Frodo, shaking his head over the ability of Elves to make fun of ANYTHING, obtained some salve and wrapping to bind and protect the stitches. "You are an idiot sometimes, Legolas. Keep these dry for about a week, and don't strain yourself overly, and come back in two days to change the wrappings. Be careful, and have a clean shirt." Legolas laughed delightedly, and took the proffered tunic. Legolas rose, thanking Frodo with an exaggerated bow, swiftly donned his tunic amid Frodo's chuckles, scooped up his old, shredded one, and turned with a flourish and slammed straight into Aragorn. He looked decidedly grim. Frodo quieted immediately. "Legolas. I'd like to speak with you. Privately." Aragorn's voice was tight. Anger was evident in the tone. Aragorn turned and strode from the infirmary. Legolas threw a reassuring wink at the worried Frodo and followed. * * * Aragorn led Legolas to an empty room, decently far away from everyone else. He motioned Legolas inside, and then followed him in, closing the door behind him. "You wanted to talk to me?" Legolas asked quietly. Aragorn walked over to one of the large windows, completely ignoring his question. He gently set his hands on the windowsill. "Aragorn?" "Legolas, do you realize you could have been killed today? Do you truly realize that? Why? Why would you take such a stupid risk?" Aragorn's hands clenched on the windowsill, his knuckles turning white. "Well, what was I supposed to do? Stand there and watch you get killed?" Legolas said, grinning a little. He figured Aragorn was angry he had abandoned his sword for his bow in the middle of the battle. Maybe wounded his pride a bit as well, coming unannounced and unasked for aid. "Yes Legolas, that is exactly what you should have done. I do not want you killed on account of a mistake I made. You should have kept on fighting." Aragorn hissed. Legolas's jaw dropped open in disbelief. "You wanted me to stand by and watch while you were killed?" Aragorn didn't respond, his hands just tightening on the windowsill. Legolas reached out, thinking to turn Aragorn about to see if this was some sort of strange joke, but from the tone in which he made his ludicrous announcement, Legolas feared Aragorn was deadly serious. Legolas's hand gently settling on Strider's shoulder to turn him about had an unexpected result. Aragorn indeed turned around, so swiftly that even the fleet elf was momentarily put off his balance, a fact which startled the elf somewhat. Even more startling was when Aragorn reached out and wrapped his hands around Legolas's wrists, tightly. Painfully tightly. Stunned and confused, Legolas looked into Aragorn's eyes, wondering what this newest development was about. The mixture of emotions there put the poor elf back on his heels in surprise. Rage, fear, and something else that Legolas couldn't quite put a name to, but was still somewhat familiar, burned brightly. "Legolas, I don't want you to touch me, look at me, much less be anywhere near me. You are to stay away from me and not meddle in my business at all, no matter what. Am I clear?" His hands tightened on Legolas's wrists, and he thought he felt something in the left wrist move, and maybe a slight wince of pain cross Legolas's face. He ignored it with difficulty, for he was sure he had seen it. "Do you understand, Legolas? Swear to me that you will honor this demand. It is my right if I don't want you near me." His hands tightened again and his eyes narrowed dangerously when Legolas didn't immediately answer. Legolas felt like he was wilting inside. His whole world seemed crushed with just those few words. Had Aragorn discovered how Legolas felt about him? Was the unknown emotion loathing, aimed at him for his love of the Human? That seemed the most likely of answers to the elf. Aragorn WAS promised to Lady Arwen, and even though he had been mostly raised by Elves, most Humans usually treated such feelings between peoples of the same gender with disgust at best. Legolas had felt the pain of his wrist, broken perhaps, and noticed the callous way Aragorn had ignored his pain. Legolas's head drooped, as he said in a pleading voice, "Aragorn I can't just ignore it if anything happened to you," he trailed off as Aragorn released his wrists. Aragorn heard Legolas's words of loyalty, and knew he meant them as a true friend. Those words made his heart twist strangely in a way that frightened him. He had to do this to protect Legolas, for the elf meant more to him than a mere friend should, even if they were as close as brothers. Legolas would be horrified if he knew the truth so Aragorn had to keep this situation away from his true feelings, those which cried out for him to gather the distressed elf into his arms and comfort him with soft kisses and, but those were forbidden thoughts. Remain true to your choice! his inner mind screamed, Do not give in! Protect him from his loyalty to you! He had to gain Legolas's pledge. But his next action shocked and sickened himself. Legolas had been starting to look up; hopeful that Aragorn had given in, when the blow struck him in the ribs. White-hot pain searing along his wound, causing his whole body to twitch violently and a low, muffled cry of pain to escape from his lips. He collapsed to his knees, and his head bowed almost to the floor as he waited for the pain to lessen. He dimly heard Aragorn's voice demanding that he promise. He felt betrayed; saddened in a way he never had felt before. But now he knew! Aragorn watched in horror as his involuntary blow caused Legolas to fall to his knees. "Legolas, promise me!" he demanded. He was frightened for the elf, but he couldn't help him and keep his resolve as well. Legolas nodded slightly. Aragorn's horror turned to sorrow as the elf struggled to his feet. He raised his gaze to meet Aragorn's. "I, Legolas Greenleaf, do swear to honor the wishes of Aragorn, son of Arathorn, and to stay away from him and to not involve myself in his affairs in any way, regardless of the situation." Legolas stated numbly. With every word, he died within himself. Aragorn heard the pledge, and acknowledged it, but he was more intent on the elf's expressive eyes. They portrayed pain, hurt, and sadness. But what was concerning him more was the interchanging looks of both betrayal and an absence, as if there was nothing at all. When his eyes went like that, the elf looked as if he were dead. Aragorn couldn't help himself. He took a step towards the elf, hand partially outstretched. But Legolas flinched away, as if expecting another blow. Legolas's defensive action filled Aragorn with self-loathing. He had dared to harm this beautiful, innocent creature, and now he paid the price, even though he had asked for it. Legolas turned and fled the room. Sorrowfully, he noticed that Legolas's natural luminance, that which had defined him even more-so as an elf, had faded. Aragorn turned back to the window, taking deep, shuddering breaths. He didn't realize he was crying until a tear snaked it's way down his face to drip onto his hand. With a quiet sob, he rested his forehead against the cold window. He had harmed what meant the most to him in the world. The guilt wouldn't let him escape. He kept telling himself he hadn't meant to hurt him, but he still wrapped in the guilt. A desolate cry tore itself from his chest. "I DIDN'T MEAN TO HURT HIM!!!" * * * Legolas gasped in pain. He was sure his wrist was broken, and his body was riddled with pain. He felt liquid trickling down his chest, signifying that some of his stitches had broken. Legolas sighed, knowing he needed help, but not wanting anyone to see him. He sighed again, but began to stumble his way to Frodo's rooms. Chapter Three: Battle Rejoined Aragorn watched the approaching mass of Orcs from the back of his horse moodily, and with a lingering sense of dread. He had been fairly irritable, and strangely forlorn. Ever since he had forced Legolas to vow to keep his distance. Even though, to his knowledge Legolas had been keeping that promise, Aragorn found those, brief, fleeting glimpses of the Elf more distracting than before, such as now. From his position atop the horse, Aragorn could look down on his waiting soldiers with ease. From here, he could, just barely!, see the slightest hint of Legolas' hair, his vision impaired by the fact the elf was kneeling in the dirt, obviously outlining specific strategies to the other elves kneeling about him, another visionary blockade. Beside him knelt Gimli, making loud, approving sounds. Aragorn was envious. Aragorn was envious of anybody that got near the elf, of anybody who had the privilege to touch him while he did not. Aragorn was especially envious of the shirt Legolas was wearing. This is not working, he thought. He had made Legolas promise not to go anywhere near him with the hope that the elf would never take another stupid risk for his sake, and also, privately, that it would help him, possibly stop him from caring so intimately for the elf. He admitted that. But now the reverse was happening, if anything he wanted the elf by his side more now than before, and he could barely stop himself from running up to him and dropping on his knees to beg for forgiveness. Now, not only had he ruined their friendship beyond repair, but he had also crushed the elf in more ways then he could possibly count. Right then, while Aragorn was watching, Legolas, as if sensing the not-so- discreet stare, looked up, and, across countless people, met Aragorn's eyes. Legolas quickly turned and disappeared into the Elven ranks. Aragorn sighed, as he could tell, even from that distance, that the expression of betrayal still lingered in Legolas's eyes, and the elf's natural glow still hadn't returned. Physically shaking himself, Aragorn tried to throw off a train of particularly haunting thoughts. What if Legolas hadn't recovered from the combination of the wound and he, Aragorn, striking him? What if the elf had a broken wrist, as Aragorn so greatly feared he did? How would that affect the elf's ability to defend himself? Aragorn agonized over these questions as the Orcs came ever nearer. Ever nearer. And then, too close. Aragorn once again glanced over to where Legolas had disappeared amongst the other Elven warriors, briefly entertaining the notion of finding the elf and ordering him off the battlefield. But it was too late for that. Aragorn would never be able to find Legolas in time, especially since Legolas seemed particularly intent on keeping his vow to the word. Raising his blade so it flashed in the morning sunlight, Aragorn let out an undulating war cry, which was echoed from rank upon rank of warriors. He spurred his mount forward, and rode forward to meet the Orcs, fighters streaming around him. * * * Several hours of nonstop battle had already taken place. Legolas was exhausted, his sprained wrist ached insistently, and with the added pain of his chest wound burning and making it difficult for him to breathe, was now starting to have a little difficulty dispatching his foes, who apparently sensed his weakness, and swarmed him in large groups. He was lucky though, for several other Elves had slipped though the Orcish hoard, and were even now proving to be invaluable assistance. They were slowly edging him to the sides of the battlefield, so that he could catch his breath, and then continue fighting once he gathered his strength. Suddenly, the Orcs were gone. He and the others had reached the battle line. He thanked his temporary companions profusely as they turned to return to the fight. Legolas took several deep, shuddering breaths, collecting himself. He raised his gaze to survey the clash. Something horrifying caught his attention. For a few seconds, he stared, transfixed in an agony of indecision, before lunging forward into the battle, ignoring the many small wounds he accumulated as he rushed to one point on the field were a atrocious act was to be committed, unless he could get there in time. As he ran, a plea rang through his mind. Aragorn, please forgive me for breaking my vow to you. * * * Aragorn was losing. After hours of battle, the rush had worn off and Aragorn was beginning to tire. It was inevitable that he would make a mistake. He was facing two Orcs, both wielding swords, when he slipped up, literally. He had back-stepped rapidly to avoid being gutted, when he had hit a rock, wet with blood, and fell. He didn't even have a chance to catch himself; so sudden and unexpected was the plummet. He tumbled backwards in a manner best described as somewhat humorous. His back slammed hard against the solid ground, knocking all the breath out of him. His head snapped backwards, and the back of his skull connected firmly with a rock. Dazedly, he felt a boot press down upon his abdomen, hindering his inhalation and very faintly, through a gray haze that obscured his sight, saw a blade flash in the sunlight, descending towards his unprotected face. Something golden caught his attention. And then, the weight on him was gone, suddenly allowing him to suck air into his starved lungs. Vainly, he tried to raise his blade and rise to fight beside his shining savior, but his body wouldn't cooperate. Black oblivion ranged at the edges of his mind, quickly claiming him. The last thing he remembered was seeing, a radiant, pale angel, silver blade blazing in the light, livid with rage, move to stand over him to protect his fallen form from all foes. Aragorn knew, instinctively and without a doubt, he was safe. Unconsciousness claimed him. Looking down, Legolas noticed Aragorn lose consciousness, and hoped the man wasn't hurt badly. He couldn't die. Legolas would not allow him to. Setting himself, Legolas prepared to guard Aragorn until the battle's end. No matter how long that may be. ************************************************************ ************************** Chapter Four: Brought To Light "Legolas, all of us have already watched him. I know you and him had some kind of disagreement, but that's no reason to squirm your way out of it. He's asleep anyway, he probably won't wake until tomorrow, Lord Elrond gave him enough of the sleeping draught to be almost certain of that. And if he DOES wake before, all you need to do is come to me or Lord Elrond before he realizes it's you!" Frodo rambled as he dragged the reluctant Elf down the hall. Legolas had put off the inevitable for three days now, but he couldn't any longer. He had sentry duty over Aragorn, whom had been drifting in and out of consciousness for the last two days, in which Legolas had managed to avoid everyone who might recruit him for sickbed guard. Frodo had finally caught him though, though how he did so was beyond the Elf, who had stationed himself on the wall with the other sentries, and had been out on patrol recently as well. After being caught, the first thing Legolas had received was a long, loud scolding on how he was not allowing himself enough rest to fully heal from the various wounds he had acquired. Frodo, with the support of the other hobbits, along with Gimli, Gandalf, and Elrond's support, had then offered, no, insisted on him taking a break in the form of watching Aragorn for them. Legolas had politely declined their invitation. They had just as politely asked Frodo to escort him to Aragorn's rooms. Legolas suspected a conspiracy. But, nonetheless, here he was, being dragged to his new assignment, watching the slumber of the man who had forced him to vow to not come near him. He had broken that vow once already, by dragging the unconscious Man off the battlefield three days before. He was positive Aragorn hadn't recognized him before he had passed out, so Legolas considered himself safe on that account, but if he were to wake while Legolas was in the room with him, the Elf had no doubt that ill would come of it. Legolas could only hope that Frodo was correct in thinking Aragorn would be too woozy to recognize him in the time it took for him to flee the room. Legolas had little choice in the matter. Legolas and Frodo had reached Aragorn's room by then. Frodo motioned the Elf inside, then turned to leave, but hesitated briefly, then spun back and presented a small flask to Legolas. "This potion will make him sleep. If he happens to wake up and recognize you, as you seem to wish to avoid, give him this, and he'll fall asleep and most likely think it was but a dream." Frodo smile encouragingly, then turned quickly and left. Legolas clutched his prize. "Thank you for understanding," he whispered, most likely too quiet for the departing hobbit to hear, considering that Frodo had made no reply. Just as well. Down the hall, Frodo grinned, very faintly. Legolas turned back to the interior of the room, pocketing Frodo's gift. The room was mostly empty, except for a couch, a rug, and several small tapestries. The large double doors leading to the bedroom were carved intricately, with several detailed and illustrated ballads carved in Elven upon them. Obviously the work of a greatly skilled and dedicated wood- worker. Legolas rapidly strode across the room, but paused before those great doors, suddenly very reluctant to continue into the other room. He had been actually rather eager to see Aragorn, and had been worried sick about the man, but had not dared to break his vow again. But now, faced with the perfect excuse to see him, that damned promise made him reluctant to continue on. Legolas quickly quieted those thoughts, took a deep breath, and abruptly plunged through the doors, and into the bedroom beyond. This room was not much more lavish than the sitting room, with nothing but a chair next to the large window, and a huge, feathery bed, on which rested Aragorn. The man was asleep, as promised. A thin sheet covered his body from the waist down, and Legolas was fascinated to notice that the man wore nothing beyond that. He also noticed how the deep rhythmic breaths caused all of the sleeping Aragorn's chest muscles to undulate temptingly. The Elf had the almost overwhelming desire to go and run his hands along those muscles, to feel them flex and ripple under his palms, and to Legolas quickly flattened that train of thought. Blushing profusely at his own overactive imagination, the Elf swiftly took a seat in the chair by the window, and gazed out it, trying to distract his restless mind from the man who slumbered peacefully on the bed behind him, and who provoked such unruly thoughts in him. The sun began to set a few hours later, and one troubled Elf still stared wistfully into the distance. * * * Many hours had fled since nightfall. Legolas had not moved in a number of hours, even though the lamps had begun to run low, and his muscles were exceedingly stiff from the extreme lack of movement. He was undergoing the strenuous mental exercise of clearing his mind, and sorting out priorities. He had come, after much agonizing over it, to the inescapable conclusion that, no matter anyone else's feelings on the subject, he was thoroughly in love with Aragorn. He had also decided that he must keep that revelation to himself. That thought pained him more than he care to admit. Conclusions, distressing as they were, drawn, the Elf rose to relight the lamps and fireplace. There were a few embers burning with a dull red light left in the nearly extinguished hearth. Legolas bent to the task of prodding the weakly smoldering ashes back into roaring life. That task finished within a few minutes, the Elf turned back to the main room with a fragile, flaming twig and started going about the task of relighting the lamps scattered about the room. He decided that not all the lights needed to be relit, and that a few near the window were all he needed. The Elf was bending low to light the lamp on the bedside table, when a vaguely distressed noise escaped somewhere above him. Legolas jerked upright and nearly dropped his brand as he immediately looked to the door. No one was there. It seemed Aragorn was the only other creature capable of making a sound like that, so Legolas assumed correctly that it was the man. The Elf quickly sprang to discard the now feebly blazing branch in the grate, and turned to regard the human. Where previously the Man had slumbered peacefully, his breaths deep and evenly spaced, Aragorn was now caught in the throes of what Legolas assumed to be a nightmare. The Man was now thrashing about wildly, crying out indecipherable, from the tone, commands. One of his flailing hands nearly dislodged a lit lamp from its perch beside his bed. Legolas leapt to steady the lamp, then turned to Aragorn, who, nightmare-stricken, struggled vainly against invisible foes. The Elf did not know how to handle this situation. Helplessly he looked to the vial that Frodo had given him earlier in the evening. He didn't want to use the potion, but if Aragorn continued this infernal thrashing, the Elf would be left with no other option. Aragorn let out a low, fearful cry, the likes of which caused shivers to run up the Elf's spine. Making a sudden decision, Legolas snapped the bottle back into a pocket, kicked off his light boots and carefully climbed onto the bed, with the intent of restraining the Man until he calmed. The Elf realized this was going to be a rather difficult mission, especially when he could barely even make it onto the bed because of the man's flailing arms, which had started to wave with more desperation from the point the elf first put the slightest amount of weight on the bed. Lunging forward, Legolas caught Aragorn by the shoulders, receiving a stinging backhand in process, and tried to confine the larger Man's arms to his sides. Aragorn quieted as soon as the Elf's hands came in contact with his skin, a reaction which bewildered the now-startled elf. When the man showed no sign of wanting to continue his invisible battle, Legolas slowly released him and let out a sigh of relief. Aragorn's breathing took on a regular pace, and if the elf noticed that they were a little more frequent, and maybe not as deep, he didn't show any sign of it. He was too caught up in resisting the overwhelming temptation to lean down and press his own lips to those of the sleeping Man's, who looked so irresistible, attractive, beautiful; the elf couldn't put a word to it. Well, there couldn't be any harm in just once, could there? He is asleep Legolas couldn't resist, and his earlier resolve was thrown to the wind as he leaned close and gently rested his lips against Aragon's. He was immediately consumed in a combination of grief and joy, grief over the fact this could never possibly happen again, and joy over the simple fact that it WAS happening, even if just this once. He was so caught up in his own emotions he didn't even notice at first that he was being kissed back. And then he did. ************************************************************ ****************** Chapter Five: Finally; The Conclusion Aragorn had been struggling against the Orcs again, reliving those last few moments when he feared his life was to end. In some detached way, he realized he was dreaming, for he clearly remembered speaking to Arwen AFTER that last battle. But the nightmare was far too real at that point. He saw the Orc, sword raised to impale him, and then the golden being, coming out of thin air, to slam into the foul beast from the side, knocking it away from him, then slicing its throat with a silver blade. The angelic being turned towards the prone man and was revealed for who and what he truly was. An Elf. Legolas. The beginnings of anger shot through him, but were quickly and thoroughly extinguished, and replaced with awe and the feeling of being privileged as Aragorn witnessed the rage and fury with which the Elf fought for him. Then the awful, yet relaxing, blackness that signified unconsciousness. He remembered waking once more, only just, but he instinctively knew that the battle was over. He felt arms wrapped around him, and knew he was being more or less carried away. He tensed for a moment, and the arms loosened, but by that time he had recognized the scent of he who had him. Once more, it was Legolas. He vaguely felt himself being lowered to the ground, and hands gently checking his pulse and breathing. He heard a sigh of relief, and then there was a slight pause. Strangely enough, the dream seemed more real as he felt hands moving down his shoulders, and then, moist heat as lips gently met his own. Aragorn was startled for a moment, but was suddenly overwhelmed by an exultant sense of elation. His heart felt as if it would burst with joy, and he bemusedly wondered how he could have apparently won the affection of this innocent and beautiful creature as he avidly returned the kiss. At that point the Elf evidently comprehended that the kiss was no longer merely one-sided. * * * Legolas jerked away in surprise, and nearly fell from the bed in shock when he realized that Aragorn was awake and intent on continuing what the Elf assumed would be fleeting kiss. "I...I'm sorry if I woke you," Legolas stammered as Aragorn opened his eyes and looked at him questioningly. The Elf knew he was probably blushing scarlet all the way to the tips of his ears, and wondered if Aragorn had realized whom he had just been kissing. "You did wake me, but I was rather pleased by your method; thus there really is no need to apologize." Aragorn smiled innocently, but he had a roguish gleam in his eyes. Once again, the elf was too distracted to notice. He had tried to hastily remove himself from the bed as soon as Aragorn had opened his eyes, but had gotten tangled in the sheet, so when he attempted to get up, all he accomplished was removing the sheet from Aragorn, and nearly taking a tumble to the floor. The only reason he didn't go down was that Aragorn, still in a reclining position, had snaked an arm out and around his waist, preventing a plummet to the floor. Unfortunately for the elf, who had been trying to get away from the man, Aragorn had completed his movement in what, to him, seemed the most logical manner. Basically, he pulled the elf back towards him, and the sudden reverse in momentum had Legolas lurching forward and sprawling across Aragorn. A now naked Aragorn, seeing that the sheet was a tangled mass between the elf's feet. Legolas's face was now just inches above Aragorn's. Once again, Aragorn did the most obvious thing, at least to his reasoning. He ran his fingers lovingly through a thoroughly stunned and befuddled Legolas's thick mane of flaxen hair, then pulled his head down, and his lips into a fervent kiss. Legolas gasped as Aragorn thrust his tongue into the elf's mouth, intent on exploring every inch of that captivating location, which by his estimation he should have discovered long ago. Legolas melted against the man, unable to resist the amazing sensation of Aragorn plundering his mouth. But then a horrible thought occurred to him. What if he doesn't realize it's me? What if he thinks I'm another elf Legolas's train of thought wasn't the most logical of things, but that was the only reason he could think of for someone who had banned him from their presence to suddenly start kissing him. He wrenched free of the man's embrace and sat up, scooting away and beginning to turn as to leave the bed. One foot had already touched the floor when Aragorn's voice and hand stopped his progress. "Legolas!" Aragorn's voice held a tone of exasperation and a slight hinting implying that Legolas would be on the receiving end of the man's ire if he moved any farther away. A hand tightened meaningfully on one thigh. Legolas stopped obediently, giddily thinking that HIS reasoning was clearly incorrect, seeing that Aragorn made it perfectly clear he knew exactly whom he had been trying to entice. The man pulled the elf back to him, and continued his explorations of Legolas's mouth. He ran his fingertips lightly down along the elf's spine, causing his skin to tingle. Once again, Legolas's morals forced him to break the kiss and to attempt to leave the bed. Aragorn let out a groan of irritation, and simply rolled on top of the elf before he could get away. Aragorn grinned complacently down into the elf's shaken face from his new position above him. Aragorn was definitely pleased with this new situation. Legolas was rather distressed, especially when Aragorn ran searching fingers up under the elf's green tunic. He shuddered at the sensations these activities evoked. Aragorn continued to wear a slightly smug smirk. Now gasping, Legolas tried to reason with Aragorn, who was now on the process of removing the elf's shirt. "Aragorn, please stop..." gasping between each word, the elf weakly protested. "You didn't want me anywhere near...you" he finished, his whole body shivering as Aragorn began lightly kissing his way down the elf's flushed chest. Aragorn smiled against his flesh as he responded, "I just didn't want you hurt. I've really been wanting to do THIS--," he started softly nibbling on one of the elf's nipples, causing more quaking shudders to rack Legolas's body, "--for quite some time." The man's hands started trailing down the elf's shivering body, eliciting a weak moan in response. "But what of Lady Arwen?" Legolas asked feebly. Aragorn stopped playing with the lacings on the front of Legolas's breeches, and lightly rested his head against the elf's stomach. Legolas heaved a sigh of relief at the brief respite. The man took a deep breath and prepared to word this as best he could. "Yes, I love Arwen, but not in the way I thought I did. She's more like a sibling to me now. I couldn't actually imagine being married to her, because I would eventually have to sleep with her, and that would be like bedding my sister. I wouldn't be able to do that. We've already talked," he said, glancing up, already guessing what Legolas's next question would be, "and she had agreed with me. I will not marry her. I love her like a sister, but I do not LOVE love her. But--," he said, looking up into Legolas's face and smiling as he ran fingers through the elf's golden hair once more, "--I DO love you." Legolas was silent. But no matter what Aragorn said, the elf could not bring himself to admit that he wanted to respond to Aragorn's caresses, even though his body was already betraying him. He could feel himself becoming hard. He'd try reason once more. "You can't be serious. There is no way you could actually love me. Are you deluding yourself?" Legolas tried to sound scornful, but the attempt fell far short. Aragorn just smiled. "Why would I want to delude myself?" Aragorn sounded somewhat like he wanted to start laughing, and also somewhat condescending.. Legolas stiffened in indignation at the tone, a brief flash of Elven pride momentarily making him forget his predicament. That is, until Aragorn, with a sultry little grin, pushed himself onto his elbows and leaned forward, resulting in his lips coming into shockingly personal meeting of pointed Elven ear and human lips. "Trust me, I am in no way deluding myself." he whispered, and smiled as Legolas shivered, though whether from touch or words he did not know. Lips and tongue brushed the graceful Elven ear tip. The elf gasped as white teeth nipped playfully along the edge of the elf's sensitive ear. Legolas stifled a moan as Aragorn's mouth wafted delicately down the length of his throat. Soft lips swept his flesh in featherlike strokes. With each wispy touch, the Elf had to visibly force himself to maintain control. Legolas raised a hand to thrust the Man away. Instead, the Elf found himself grasping weakly at silky sheets as Aragorn's velvety lips caught onto the tender seam connecting neck and shoulder. As the Man's tongue frolicked scorchingly along his collarbone, Legolas felt himself begin to crumble. "But...Aragorn!" he gasped pleadingly. The Man chuckled huskily against his skin. "If you really want me to stop, I will. But something--" he nuzzled the against the violently pounding pulse he had located at the base of the Elf's neck "-- tells me you don't really want that." Legolas finally just gave up. He couldn't say he didn't want this any longer, or that he wasn't enjoying it. The elf wrapped his hands around the sides of Aragorn's face and dragged him away from his throat, pulling the man into an ardent kiss. Once more, the man looked considerably pleased with himself as he thrust his tongue into the elf's mouth. But this time, the kiss didn't last as long, for Aragorn broke the kiss to raise himself up onto his elbows, and smiled wickedly down at the breathless elf. The elf's glazed eyes and weakly stroking hands silently begged for him to continue. Aragorn leaned forward again and trailed kisses down from Legolas's shoulders to his chest, belly, and then back up again, while his hands tugged gently at Legolas's pants. Glancing up at Legolas's dreamy face, and tapping meaningfully on the elf's stomach, caused Legolas to look down in temporary disorientation, passing swiftly into comprehension as he lifted his hips so that Aragorn could remove his breeches. Aragorn happily and hastily disposed of them. Legolas, now completely naked, shivered a little. He then felt Aragorn's hands caressing his thighs, followed by his tongue, causing the elf to let out a soft cry. Aragorn trailed his lips slowly up Legolas's thighs, torturing him. Unable to help himself, Legolas pushed his hips urgently against the man, who in turn held him still, and he heard Aragorn chuckle a little. Then warm hand against stomach, and he was suddenly wrapped in the heat of Aragorn's mouth. He moaned loudly as the man took him deep into his throat, and then out, his tongue sliding all the way down his hard arousal. Then, equally slow, Aragorn slid him all the way into his mouth again, and out once more, suckling erotically on the tip of the elf's rigid member. Legolas closed his eyes and let his head fall back, his whole body trembling in response to the utterly sensual experience. Aragorn, sensing the elf's pleasure, tenderly grazed the sensitive flesh with his teeth. Legolas's eyes snapped open wide and he gave a whimpering cry as his body arched under Aragorn's searing hands. Aragorn gently pushed his hips back to the bed and held him decently still, but his body still writhed in an exquisite sense of euphoria. Pale fingers entwined convulsively in the man's dark hair and the elf cried out piercingly as he climaxed, hot liquid spilling down Aragorn's throat, and escaping his mouth to trickle down Legolas's honeyed thighs to the silken bed linens underneath. As Legolas lay there panting, Aragorn slowly kissed his way damply up the elf's twitching form, his hands idly outlining patterns on his limp lover's body as he waited patently for the elf to recover. He began to lightly nip at Legolas's delicately pointed ear once the elf's breathing started to steady, eliciting more weak, shuddering cries from the elf. He was abruptly and completely distracted by the feeling of Legolas sliding his tongue along the underside of his jaw, and then moving down to leave trace tooth marks along the underside of Aragorn's throat. Aragorn growled, all of a sudden pierced by a lance of intense need. Aragorn leaned over, crushing Legolas's lips in a wild kiss. Legolas moaned, placing his hands behind Aragorn's neck as one hand ran down Legolas's back to cup his buttocks, then he brought his fingers around and slowly penetrated the elf. Legolas flinched slightly at the discomfort, and Aragorn immediately covered his face with loving kisses. Aragorn removed his fingers, and wrapped his hands around the elf's waist and positioned himself between Legolas's legs. His aching arousal nudged against the elf's opening, and he gently slid himself inside Legolas, all while continuing to tenderly kiss him. Legolas winced again, but not much, for the pain was horribly outweighed by pleasure. Aragorn started moving slowly, the elf holding him tightly, and as Aragorn moved one hand underneath Legolas's buttocks, lifting his hips, and the elf's vision blurred under the assault of a sudden rush of toe- curling rapture. Aragorn moved up his pace, thrusting harder. His breathing sped up, and so did Legolas's. Legolas secreted his face against Aragorn's neck and began suckling and softly biting at the tender skin. As Aragorn moved ever more fiercely, Legolas panted and nipped harder. Then Aragorn hoarsely cried out as he came, powerful waves of ecstasy rampaging throughout his body. His muscles contacted violently, and Legolas came again too, violently, and he bit down hard. Aragorn groaned, and Legolas relaxed in his arms, letting the waves of his second, and more intense, climax rush over him. They lay there in a tangled heap of limp bodies, gasping breathlessly, Aragorn still inside Legolas. Aragorn pulled himself free with some difficultly, and propped himself up on his elbows above his love, looking down on Legolas's face. The exhausted elf wore a contented smile and gazed caringly up at the man before his emerald eyes darkened and took on the beautiful glaze signifying sleep. With a groan, Aragorn rolled to his side, pulling the sleeping elf with him. Legolas rested his head against the man's chest, and Aragorn carefully pulled the tangled blanket up to cover them, then wrapped his arms around Legolas's waist and pulled him close, protectively, possessively, while mumbling sweet nothings to the sleeping elf. Legolas muttered something unintelligibly, causing Aragorn to laugh quietly, and then he placed his chin atop the sleeping elf's head, sighing with satisfaction. "You are an angel." Aragorn told the snoozing elf as he drifted off, "My angel. My guardian angel!" * * * Elrond knocked lightly on the bedroom door, but was not answered. "Legolas?" he called out, deftly juggling a tray, which held the blonde elf's breakfast, as to free a hand to open the door. "I have your..." he trailed off as he came fully into the room. He was slightly startled. Two forms, those of Legolas and Aragorn rested curled on the bed, sunlight filtering through trees outside the windows to cast golden dapples upon their entwined bodies. Elrond quietly moved to place the tray on the bedside table, then began to leave, glancing up briefly, only to meet the open eyes of Aragorn, watching him as he left. Elrond saw Aragorn pull Legolas closer to him, a move purely possessive in nature, and saw the man glare in a way that seemed to firmly proclaim 'mine!'. The Elven Lord grinned. Elrond swiftly left the room and almost made it to the end of the hall before he started laughing gleefully. He quickly rushed to inform everyone he had won the bet, and that Gandalf owed him a firework show. End.