Title: Hope and Valour
Author: milgarion
Author email: milgarion@mail.com
Pairing:Aragorn/legolas
rating: nc-17
summary: movie verse, i just think they make a great couple. the following is what
happens when you spend each day in fear of your life, learning that every second
counts, and to take every opportunity as though there may never be another one. its
kinda fluffy. be warned.
Disclaimer: seriously, if i owned this i wouldnt have to work all the hours god
sends just to work up the money to go to uni. its all property of the grand, high
Tolkien and the masterminds at new line. sulk.
warning: explodes on impact. just kidding.
authors note: it has taken me six months to write this, and over a year to post. i'm
just lazy. i write for the hell of it, but feedbackl is much appreciated. also
no-one ever emails me, not even my so called friends. we must kill them
preciousssss! yes yes kill them we must.
P.S the spelling mistakes are fucking atrocious in this, my spell check kept trying
to change every go damned thing so i just gave up. it aint been beta'd either.

Hope & Valour


It was the last day of summer, and even though it was late the last of the suns rays
still hung heavily in the air. The breeze was warm, doing little for those who had
ventured outside to try and cool of in the abnormally hot weather.

      Aragorn, son of Arathorn slowly made his way along the deserted corridor to a
room that he new w
ould be cooler this evening. The immense library was carved into the rock itself, a
small stream running through the centre. The hier of men ran a hand frudtratedly
through his lengthy black hair, wishing today that he could either tie it up like
the elves or cut it off. But he knew Arwen would kill him before he even considered
it. He was so preoccupied by his thoughts that he didn’t notice the figure sitting
on a long padded couch by the stream.

      The blonde looked up at him, obviously aware of his arrival long before
Aragorn would have thought. Aragorn couldn’t help but smile back. Despite
their natural defenses against the heat, it was not uncommon to come across
one looking flustered. The Prince of Mirkwood had doffed his usuall royal
attire, opting on the cool option of a light tunic, the sleeves cut short at
the shoulders although the barely see through material did little to hide
anything from the imagination. He had chosen this day to  unbraid his hair,
instead tying it loosely at the base of his neck so it hung in a thick golden
rope between his shoulder blades. He had obviously not been expecting company,
otherwise he would not be thusly attired. Aragorn knew him too well, he had
his pride.

     “Aragorn, I did not expect to be seeing you this evening.” He spoke without
emotion, giving aragorn no lead as to whether the Elf meant it in annoyance or
not.

     “I did not mean to disturb you My Lord. I was merely seeking shelter from the
heat, many do not know of this library, I thought I would come here.” He
replied.

     “My sentiments entirely, I needed somewhere where I could get away from the
intolerable crowds and out of those stifling robes.” The Prince flashed one of
those rare smiles that he hardly let anyone see as he reached across and placed
the book he was reading on the small nearby table. He stood and walked the
short distance untill he could sit on the edge of the river channel. Dipping
his bare feet into the refreshing current. He motioned for Aragorn to sit
beside him, an action that threw Aragorn a little. Many of his actions had
thrown him today, including his defence of the Ranger at the council.

     “It was a brave action you made today. I do not believe anybody had expected
that from you.” He commented as he removed his own shoes, welcoming the cool
rush that chilled his skin.

     “Brave it was not, more a duty I feel obliged to fulfil. Besides, I couldn’t
bear to think of me being outdone by a Man.” Legolas turned and smiled at
Aragorn to show that he was merely joking.

     “More likely to sate your desire for battle.” He quipped back, “but even so,
for you, a Prince no less, to journey to Mordor in the company of eight others,
none of them personal guards. Your father will not approve.”

     “Aprrove or not, by the time word reaches him in Mirkwood we shall already be
well on our way.” He sighed heavily, gazing absently at the rippled stream,
Aragorn could see his jaw working as though he was going to speak but many
silent minutes passed before he finally turned on Aragorn.

     “What do you see when you look at me?”
     It wasn’t a question Aragorn was normally asked and it surprised him for a moment.

     “A Prince of Mirkwood.” He answered hesitantly, worried slightly by the
briefest flash of uncharacteristic emotions flickering in the Elf’s eyes.

     “Is that all?” He replied softly, returning his stare to the water.

     “No,” Aragorn answered quietly, wondering at the point of this question. Why
should he care about what others thought of him, it was never as if anybody
would voice them. It would probably have a worse result than if somebody
insulted the Lord Elrond. But even as Aragorn thought this it occurred to him
that he had never heard a bad word said about Mirkwoods fairest Prince. It was
the opposite in fact, many loved him dearly, even those who had never met him
and he had lost count of the maidens and even some men who desired him from
afar. 

     “I do not know what you wish me to say my Lord.” He apologised.

     “Why do you call me that?” Aragorn grew even more confused, a frown pulling
together his brow.

     “I’m not sure I fully understand my Lord.”

     “I am not your Lord. Lord Elrond is, and even he you call by his name.”

     “I am sorry then for calling you by title. But I call Elrond by name because I
have grown up with him, he has taken care of me since the day he found me. He
is all I can remember.”

     “Then by name you should call me Aragorn, for I have seen you grow also. And
even though you do not remember it, I was there that fateful day. It was in my
arms you cried as we took you from your mothers side.”

     Aragorn paled slightly, forgetting about the heat for a while. “I didn’t know
that.” He mumbled apologetically.

     “I do not doubt that, you were very young. A blessing maybe, for that night
even I have tried to forget.”

      Aragorn nodded dumbly. He had been told by Lord Elrond of the eve he was
found, about what had happened. Those images brought about by gentle elven
words were hard to shake.  It must have been a truly horrifying sight if this
fair being wanted to shed their image from his mind. The very thought made
Aragorn sick.

     “I am serious about you calling me by name. It has gone on long enough. You
never used to do it as a child.” The Princes silken voice interrupted his
previous train of thought.

     “But I was taught the rules of etiquette when I came of age, that I was to
refer to anybody above my station by their title.”

     Legolas smiled as he thought back to the first banquet when Aragorn had bowed
to him, he was indeed thankful of his races abilities to hide emotions do
easily, otherwise he was sure that on that day he would have made a face that
bordered on bewilderment and humour.

     “Never the less, I shall not be trecking to Mordor and back with you calling me
‘My Lord’ all the way, although maybe that Dwarf will learn his place beside
me.”

     Aragorn couldn’t help but gaze upon the fair Prince, his heart beating madly in
his chest as he realised that in these last few minutes Legolas had grown from
being his charge or aquaintance to his friend. It was a concept that Aragorn
had dreamed of for many years. Now maybe Legolas would converse with him as
freely with him as he did with others, for this conversation was anything other
than polite small talk, he would never talk like this to a mere aquaintance.

     “What do you think of?”
     The voice was further away than Aragorn had expected and it filled him with a
feeling of loss, he preffered to hear that voice up close.  To listen to its
honeyed undertones and the way the words themselves seemed to be filled with
magic when he spoke of something he loved. It was then that Aragorn noticed
that the Prince had left his side and was busying himself at one of the
shelves, trying to locate the space where he had pulled the book from, wet
footprints marking a path of where he had been.
    
     “Elrond will be displeased with you if he sees the mess you have created.” He
said lightly.

     “Elrond would never say a thing to me, much less raise his voice.” He smiled back.

     “You are leaving?” Aragorn tried to fight the dissapointed tone that had crept
into his voice but failed, luckily Legolas had not noticed.

     “Aye, I have a meeting to attend to with my high guard. But first,” He pulled
the light tunic into place having just overreached to put the book back, not
caring to use the steps nearby, “I must change. It would not do to be seen like
this.”

     He returned to the bench and retrieved the heavy, high collared overtunic and
pulled it on, managing perfectly to keep the discomfort from his face. He shook
his hair free from its binding before quickly tying back the top section in a
style more befitting his stature.

     “Legolas?” Aragorn enjoyed the sound of the Princes name rolling off his tongue.

     “Yes.”

     “Why did you wish to know what I saw in you?”

     “It does not matter now.” Legolas smiled, but it’s sincerity did not travel to
the piercing blue eyes, and Aragorn was saddened that the Elf would not reveal
the truth. “ I shall see you about no doubt.”

     Aragorn watched as the lithe figure walked gracefully from the room, leaving it
cold and lifeless. Exactly what Aragorn had been looking for. But now he had
it, he didn’t want it. 


     It was cool that morning when they all met together, the first time they had
been as one. The cold silence broken by the shuffling and quiet whispers of
Hobbits. Aragorn stood at Legolas’ side, still a little intimidated by the fact
that the Elf was a few inches taller than him, maybe it was because he stood
with his back straight, unlike Aragorn. He straightened, gaining an inch or
two, his eyes remaining locked on the way the Elf’s nimble fingers toyed
lightly with the side split hem on his tunic. Could it possibly be that the
Prince of Mirkwood, infamous for his battle skills, was nervous. Aragorn knew
he was himself, but was trying his best to hide it, his hand kept from fiddling
by being clasped tightly behind his back, his gaze studiously avoiding that of
Boromir’s who was staring at him unabashdley. 

     “Greenleaf.” His voice startled everyone around him but called more attention
from Legolas, who looked down at him and frowned questioningly.

     “You have your namesake engraved into the gauntlet, underneath your father’s
emblem.” He elaborated, realising that he had indeed said the previous
statement out loud, much to his embarrasment.

     He received a slight smile, and had the impression that if they were not in
company then the Prince would have allowed it to spread.

     “Nobody has ever noticed.” He stared at Aragorn, his gaze unrelenting and
holding the Man’s eyes for far too long to be considered innocent. Aragorn was
extremely grateful for the noise caused by Pippin throwing stones into the
nearby fountain and the hurried apology when the young Hobbit caught the stares
thrown his way. Aragorn cleared his throat and looked off to where he was
expecting Lord Elrond to come from.

     In his estimation, this trip was going to be far too long.      

     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *
    *     *     *     *
        
     The night was darker than any other that had slept under, black clouds hid the
moon and stars from view, only the small campfire served to illuminate the
small clearing where they had made their camp. It had been a fateful day, one
of which would play on Aragorns mind for all his years to come. The fellowship
had been destroyed, its members ripped apart on different paths. Could he have
prevented it?

     Isildur’s heir sat beneath a large tree a while away from the camp,
overshadowed by great branches that creaked in the raging wind. He pulled his
cloak and blanket up around his shoulders, trying his best to protect himself
from the night’s chill. He allowed his mind to wander, blinking back tears as
he relived the death of a comrade, the screams of those being carried away, the
horror on Gimli’s face and the uncharacteristic show of emotion from Legolas.
So lost was he in his thoughts and so loud the dull roar of the wind in his
ears that he heardly noticed when the Elf sat down quietly next to him.

     He heard his voice saying something but was unable to hear so it  took Aragorn
a while to register that he had actually spoken. He turned to face the Mirkwood
Prince, who was busy trying to keep his long blonde hair under control in the
rising wind. The Elf was deceivingly young, if he were a man Aragorn would
think him only twenty years of age. But he had known him since a child, still
unsure of his exact age but well aware that he had long passed the two thousand
mark.

    He frowned and motioned for him to speak again, but as he parted his lips to
speak the wind picked up, whipping braids about the perfect face. Legolas leaned
in close to Aragorn, their cheeks brushing gently as the Elf spoke softly into
the Mans ear, his well spoken words falling richly from the Prince’s tongue
causing the human to weaken slightly.

     “Gimli has found a cave where we may seek shelter. I can feel storm clouds
approaching, I thought I should come find you.”

     The wind dropped suddenly as he pulled back and Aragorn couldn’t help but gasp
at the breathtaking sight he posed. Porcelain skin had an added pinkish tinge
from the winds chill caress, golden hair blown forwards framed his face, a
small kind smile played on his lips but with his mussed appearance it served to
make him look mischievous. Aragorn allowed himself to laugh at the absurd
thought. Legolas, mischievous.

      “What amuses you son of Man?” He questioned, offering Aragorn his hand as the
wind picked up again with greater speed. Aragorn did not get to answer as he
shielded his face as rain added to the onslaught, hitting him horizontally.

      A tight grip held onto his arm and the ranger found himself being led back
through the trees, a low rumble of thunder sounded its presence in the
distance. The ground beneath him grew slippery with rain and his unsteady
steps were unable to stop him from slipping on tree roots and patches of bare
earth. But graceful hands prevented him from falling every time.

      The rain fell harder now, running across the ground in small rivers and
blinding Aragorn as it pooled into his eyes. He wiped furiously at his face,
glad now that he could see the form of a rocky outcropping not so far away.
They ran underneath its cover, Aragorn doubling over and breathing hard. He
looked around at the warmly lit cave. Gimli was asleep by the newly lit
campfire, obviously not bothered by the growing storm outside, wrapped up
warmly in his blankets and snoring fitfully.

      Aragorn took a long, slow, deep breath and stood up straight, releasing it
when his eyes fell once again on the ethereal beauty infront of him. Legolas
stood still, as always, gazing out at the downpour, his eyes glittering with
some inner light. The previously windswept hair sleeked smooth by the rain,
errant strands sticking to the smooth lines of his face. Water logged clothes
surrounded him like a second skin, highlighted his finely toned chest and
stomach, the long muscular arms shapened by horse and bow.  

      Aragorn slowly reached out with his hand and smoothed away those wayward
strands, his touch causing the archer to quickly face him. His fingers
brushing the sensitive tip as he tucked the pieces of gold behind the Elf’s
ear. The beautiful marble skin achingly soft beneath his fingers as they swept
down along his jaw line. It was the first time Aragorn had dared to touch him
in this way, without need or cause and he was wondering just how long his
touch could linger before the Prince questioned his actions. But Legolas
didn’t say a word, no real emotion played upon his face, his calm mask stayed
in place as Aragorn withdrew his hand and turned away.

      “We should use this time to sleep and carry on our journey once the storm has
passed.” He spoke quietly despite the noise outside. Out of the corner of his
eye he could see the Elf slowly nod and turn his gaze back to the rain.  

      *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *    *     *
    *     *     *     *

      Autumn leaves had begun to fall, littering the ground around him with reds and
gold's.                                                                       
          Aragorn sat beside the small campfire, not really paying attention
to Gimli’s mutterings as he looked about the clearing. He saw Legolas standing
far away from them, his back against a tree. The man felt guilt run through
him like a knife twisting in his gut as he remembered his earlier actions.

     They had been making good progress across the plain, side skirting to walk
through a small copse to avoid the midday sun. The Elf clearly enjoying being
back under the trees and set off ahead of them. Moments later the serene peace
was interrupted by the hoarse cries of battle combined with the whistle of
arrows flying through the air. Aragorn and Gimli had rushed to the Elf’s side
dispatching the small band of Orcs that had lain in wait for them with ease.

     Gimli and Legolas smiled triumphantly, counting the dead in a game that would
continue throughout their journey. It was Aragorns shout that wiped the rare
smile from the Elf’s lips.

     “Legolas! What use is an Elf on our journey if they spend more time engrossed
in nature than serious matters.” He paused to watch the pained expression cross
his handsome features before continuing

     “You could have let us fall. You are our mark Legolas, do your job!”
     The man had to turn his back as the elf stalked off, Gods, how he wanted to
hold him. He shook his head clearing his mind of his thoughts, realising that
no good would come of them. He heard him retreat into the trees as Gimli began
to pull the bodies to the side of the clearing.

      “Set up camp Gimli, but not here. Away from these creatures.” He said quietly,
careful not to reveal the torrent of emotion rushing through him.

     It was beginning to get dark and Aragorn began to worry about the Elf. He had
not returned to camp, even to eat. He stared straight ahead as he kept watch,
spiting himself by not paying attention to the obvious beauty around him as the
stars began to appear in the sky.

     The ranger’s attention was captured by the Dwarf who mumbled something about
sleeping under stars before curling up under his blanket. His loud snores a few
minutes later indicated his dreamful state.

     Aragorn took this moment to quietly leave the campfire and approach the Elf,
who on hearing him advance turned to face him, keeping his eyes downcast. The
ranger couldn’t help but stare at the fair Elven prince, resentful of the heat
gathering throughout his body. He was perfect in every way possible. His pale
skin shone with a light borne from the stars in the sky above him, his long
blonde hair melting like liquid gold about his shoulders. Aragorn wasn’t sure
if the Elf knew it, but he had been seduced by him. Reserving rare smiles for
the future king, holding his gaze for just a second longer than most would find
comfortable although the Man realised that he could lose himself in those eyes
forever. He had studied him, detailing everything in his mind and storing it
there for when he slept.

       He was truly perfect, and Aragorn hated him for it. For making him feel this
way and for making his heart betray the one he thought he loved so dear. He
raised his hand to the chain around his throat, the charm felt like ice to
his burning touch.

       Finally he came to stand just a few feet from this beautiful creature, biting
the inside of his cheek when his sapphire blue gaze rose to meet his.

      “I came to apologise”, he said quietly, watching the Elf’s reactions.

      “There is no need Aragorn, your comments were just.” He replied. His warm
voice flowing into Aragorns mind and snaked around like a vice, stopping all
thought.

      “I should not have been so harsh” The ranger managed to breathe out. He was
sure the Elf was weaving some sort of spell but the face in front of him
looked so innocent. He could hear nothing but the dull roar of blood pounding
in his ears and missed the Elf’s next statement. His world had turned liquid,
unable to think or feel anything other than what was happening in this moment.

      He felt a hand rest upon his arm, turning his attention from the leaf-strewn
floor he was hoping would distract him to Legolas’ ethereal face. He knew that
he was speaking as his lips moved and a worried frown had pulled his brow
together. Despite his minds screams of protest Aragorn raised his hand and
placed it against the Prince’s beautifully soft skin, his fingers dancing
lightly across his cheek.

       Legolas could feel the mans hand trembling as his touch left his face and
travelled down his neck. He gazed into Aragorns dark eyes with uncertainty,
wondering what would come out of this moment. Light and dark met and Legolas’
mind reeled as he saw the mans fierce desire and passion written clearly in
his stare, realisation hitting him just as hard as Aragorns kiss.

      He was pushed forcefully back against the tree, wincing in pain as his
shoulder took the full blow. But he was unable to cry out as his lips had been
sealed with Aragorns, bearing down on him, branding the feel of him onto the
Elf’s lithe body as he was crushed between the hard bole of the tree and the
mans muscular frame. Legolas laid his hands on his friends chest, intending to
push him away kindly, but made the mistake of trying to speak. Aragorn
ensnaring him as his lips parted.

      The man had never tasted anything so sweet as he ran his tongue smoothly
across the Elf’s, a low moan escaping his throat.

       Legolas could hear the voices of his mind shouting, screaming at him to stop
this before they both got hurt but his body began to betray him. His hands
left Aragorns chest as his arms encircled his waist, moving up his back to
let his fingers tangle in his unruly hair. How long had he wanted this?
Finally surrendering to his kiss he stroked Aragorns lips with his tongue,
eliciting a sharp intake of breath from the mortal.

       His gentle touch spurred the ranger on; his hands released their grip on
Legolas’ arms and reached around his body, pulling him close along his tall
frame. One hand wrapped in his long blonde hair, holding him as Aragorn drove
the kiss deeper, his tongue sliding over the archers with a passion that
almost scared Legolas.

       Eventually he was forced to pull away from the man, dragging cool air into
his burning lungs. He gazed up at the ranger’s intense gaze, a stare that
most would find threatening, but Legolas had known the man too long. He
watched him intently as he felt Aragorns hands reaching around his slender
waist and untie the laces that kept his overtunic tight against his body.
Pulling at the hem around his neck the man brought the soft material forwards
off his shoulders to reveal the light silver one beneath. He smiled as he saw
the tips of the Elf’s ears turn pink, heat cresting his cheekbones as the
ranger lay his hand upon his chest, carefully tracing the contours of the
muscles underneath.

        Legolas closed his eyes as his lips were captured with a gentle kiss,
Aragorns roaming hands turned their attention to the ornate silver
fastenings that held the light material together, undoing each one until the
tunic hung open. Sobering reason flooded through the Elf as he felt the
ranger’s warm hands smoothed across his stomach. He tried to break their
kiss but Aragorn seized his lip between his teeth, the taste of copper
melting into his tongue as he broke the skin. Legolas gasped at the sharp
pain and brought his hands up to the mans shoulders but they were pushed
away, a strong grip held on his wrists as his arms were pulled behind him
and held there. Aragorn freed one of his hands and wound the Elf’s golden
hair about it pulling his head back so that he could trail his lips along
the silky skin of his neck, drinking in his intoxicating scent.

      A sudden clap of thunder roiled across the distant sky causing Aragorn to
release his hold on the Elf. They eyed each other nervously, Legolas wincing
as his tongue ran over the fresh cut on his lip that still spilt blood onto
his porcelain skin. Aragorn caressed his face gently, conveying his apology
with his eyes.

     “Gimli may have woken.” Legolas whispered breathlessly, doing up the clasps on
his tunic as he spoke.

     Aragorn noticed his discomfort and laughed grimly.

      “I feel I must apologise again for my actions Legolas.” He said.

      “Nay,” The Elf replied “There is nothing to apologise for Aragorn. I do not
resent your actions, I just believe that this is not an appropriate time or
place.”

        He bent down and picked up his discarded overtunic and made his way back to
the welcoming warmth of the campfire and leaving Aragorn standing in the
wake of his remark.

        *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *      *      *     * 
   *     *     *     *

        The sun rode warmly from behind the mountains in the far distance, casting
its relentless heat down upon the three walkers. They had risen a couple
hours before, not that Legolas had actually slept, Aragorn neither, for he
had taken the last watch.

       The hot rays had already forced them to reluctantly remove layers, even Gimli
had been swayed as the long shadows of the mountains they had walked in had
been overcome with the persistent gaze of the sun. None of them could ever
remember a day so hot, and it was against their luck that it had to be a day
when they were on a chase else they would have found the weather suitable,
had they a cool river to sit by in the shade of an overhanging tree.

        Legolas finally gave up his battle with the heat, he pulled his tunic over
his head, not even bothering with the ties, he hastily folded it up and
placed it in his pack. He was all too aware of the dangers of the sun and
had already noticed the pink flushes on his companion’s faces as well as his
own. He had noticed a small stream only a few minutes ago and called to
Aragorn.

      “Is it about time for a break Aragorn?”
      
      Aragorn stopped, thankful for the question as it gave him time to rest his
legs a little. He turned to look back at the Elf and the Dwarf. Gimli looked
thoroughly miserable, having all his extra layers and mail shirts to carry,
not to mention his axe. His gaze shifted to focus on Legolas, his silver shirt
glistening in the sun even though it was soaked through and sticking to his
skin. Aragorn couldn’t help but worry about him, it was unusual for an Elf to
have such a reaction to the weather and he could see the sun beginning to burn
his beautiful marble skin.

      “Very well, we may rest but there is no shelter out here in these open plains”

      “There may be no shelter, but I can see the banks of a shallow stream less
than half a league away. We could at least cool down before continuing on our
path”
      Aragorn saw Gimli light up at these words and motioned for Legolas to lead the
way.

      It was only a short walk as Legolas had promised until they came upon the wide
shallow stream, its surface glittering in the suns reflections as it raced its
way over the uneven stones on the riverbed. Gimli gave a joyous cry and flung
himself down upon the sandy shore. He removed his helm as Aragorn and Legolas
came to sit either side of him. He pushed it under the cool stream, filling it
before dragging it out again and putting it back on, drenching himself in the
refreshing water.

Legolas couldn’t help but smile as his friend let out an over exaggerated sigh.
Without any thought to what he was doing he casually unfastened the clasps on his
shirt and placed it on the shore beside him, he began to pull his boots off but was
interrupted by a shout from Gimli.

     “By Elendil Legolas! Have you been fighting the allies of Mordor while we
sleep?” He cried heartily, causing Aragorn to look over at the Elf

     He grimaced as he saw the long blackening bruise that marred the beauty of the
Elf’s skin as it ran the entire length of his spine, fanning outwards as it
reached his shoulder. His stomach knotted in guilt as he realised how it got
there. He noticed Gimli studying the Elf more closely, waiting for the moment
when he pieced the jigsaw together.

      “How did you come to get these marks Legolas?” Gimli asked, a surprising
amount of concern in his voice as he shot Aragorn askance look.

      Legolas followed the Dwarf gaze down to his arms where smaller, paler bruises
had formed. He had noticed the look of mistrust in his friends eyes as he
glanced at their leader so he though quickly for an excuse.

      “There was a case of mistaken identity in the night” He lied, adding a weak
smile to his statement. “Aragorn was on watch when I took a short stroll to
stretch my legs, he mistook me for an impostor. All is well though Gimli, at
least we know he is not sleeping on the job!”

      The man and Elf looked at each other nervously as Gimli worked this
explanation around in his head, their fears quelled when he let out a rourous
laugh, slapping Legolas on the back, although not too hard.

       “Why my dear Elf! You must be going soft in your age, letting someone such a
Aragorn catch you unawares and come of better for it”

       They were both relieved as Gimli went back to pouring water all over him,
effectively soaking himself and the surrounding ground around him.

       Legolas continued to pull his boots off, turning his gaze from the Man
opposite him, he rolled the soft material of his trousers to just above his
knees before seizing his shirt and making his way into the shallow stream,
unawares that he was the sole focus of Aragorns attention.

       The Man couldn’t help but stare as the graceful elf stood in the middle of
the stream, the cool water flowing around his knees, soaking though the thin
material of his trousers, causing them to stick to his skin, outlining the
powerful muscles underneath. He smiled as he watched the object of his
infatuation slowly untie the braids in his hair before releasing the rest of
it from its clasp, allowing the golden mane to flow about his face. He was
momentarily pulled away from his reverie  by Gimli announcing that he was
going to sit further up shore where the grass grew longer and offered a
little shade. He watched as the Dwarf wondered off a few hundred meters where
only his head could be seen above the tall grass.

       Legolas watched as Gimli walked away, feeling slightly nervous being left in
Aragorns presence alone. He leant over so that he could soak his light shirt
in the cold water, he noticed the man on the riverside removing his boots,
his long hair catching in the breeze hid his slight frown.

       “Legolas?” Aragorns deep voice drew his attention away from the swirling
current that was tugging at his feet and he was forced to turn his light blue
gaze to the man who was currently testing the waters with his foot. He looked
at the man in a way that could only mean for him to carry on.

       “I’m sorry, I hope I have not lowered your thoughts of me. I should have been
more gentle” He moved his hand up to run through his unruly hair as he let
out a long sigh.

“Think nothing of it Son of Arathorn, as I said last night, I do not think ill of
your action. I run on the pretence that there is a time and a place for everything.”
Legolas stated in a very nonchalant way as he began to wring out the excess water
from his shirt, eager to replace it as he watched Aragorns eyes roam across his
well-toned chest. He didn’t want his state of undress to spur the ranger into
another predatory situation.

     He eyed the man closely as he approached him, wading through the cold water
until he was standing only a couple of feet from the Elf. Legolas made to
replace the wet shirt but Aragorn extended his arm, holding him still as he
moved behind him.

      Legolas couldn’t deny the tremors of desire that ran the length of his spine
as Aragorn gently brushed his silken hair from his back and ran his fingertips
lightly across the bruised skin. He heard the man behind him suck in a sharp
breath as he surveyed the damage he had inflicted.

      “Oh Gods Legolas, I am so sorry.” He moved in a way as if to embrace to Elf
from behind but Legolas stepped forward beyond his reach, turning back to face
Aragorn as he made his way back to the shore.

       “We have already stopped for to long, we must get back to the path. The
longer we rest, the longer we leave Merry and Pippin to the Orcs.”
      Aragorn did nothing but stare in a very lost sort of way as the Elf shrugged
his shirt over his shoulders and fastened it with nimble fingers. His mind was
filled with so many conflicting emotions. If Legolas didn’t resent his actions
the previous night then why was he acting so cold?

                        *         *          *         *         *         *        
*          *         *   

       Legolas looked out across the heaving mass of bodies that threw themselves at
the walls of the Hornburg in a vain attempt at breaking through. Already they
had managed to work their way through small tunnels carved into the rock and
Theoden’s men were battling below. All had gone eerily quiet as he watched
the black wave fall back again. He pulled his brow together to form a frown
as his keen senses picked up a faint battle cry from far down below him. With
a panicked realisation he realised that it was Aragorn. He gripped his bow
tighter as he turned and ran, receiving puzzled glances from the guards he
passed on his way, many of them following him as he dashed down the winding
staircases and threw himself into the heated battle before him. He replaced
his bow back into its holster and drew both blades all in one smooth movement
before heading towards the black creatures, slicing and stabbing as he went.
To anyone observing they would have lost him in a blur as he spu
 n, striking out at anything who dared to come near, his hair whipping about his
face as he battled to where Aragorn fought side by side with Eomer, their swords
gleaming in the moonlight as they danced through the black flesh of their enemy.

      Aragorn looked over as a flash of gold caught his eye to see the Elf
struggling against the growing mass of Orcs. He watched as one advanced upon
him, his crude weapon swinging down through the air, Legolas couldn’t see him.
Aragorn tried to shout but his hoarse throat allowed for no sound to come out.
Leaving Eomer’s side the future king ran towards his friend, his love, but was
a moment too late. He ran his sword through the thickset body, grimacing as
the hot blood spilled across his hand, eyes widening in horror as the
creature’s body slumped forwards to the ground. Legolas stood a few feet from
him, his beautiful blue eyes glazing over as pain racked his body, he fell to
his knees, hands clutching his stomach but doing little to prevent the blood
from spilling through his fingers and staining his tunic a dark red. Aragorn
ran to his side and caught him as he fell back. He gently cradled the Elf in
his arms, silently praying the tears that were stinging his eyes wou
 ldn’t fall, for Legolas’ sake.

      “Legolas…” His whisper held a panicked undertone as he looked the Elf over,
catching his face in his hand when it rolled away from him. He turned Legolas
to look at him.

      “Aragorn?” Legolas could barely see, his vision kept blurring and any
concentration he could muster was wiped aside by the consuming pain that ran
through him. It felt to him as though a white-hot ball of fire had been
plunged into his body, burning his lungs and making every intake of breath
more painful than the last. But all through this he was somehow dimly aware of
the distant look of horror on Aragorns face as he held him in his arms. So
many times had the Elf wanted him to hold him like he did now, and so many
times had Aragorn offered. But Legolas’ own love and respect for Arwen held
him back. So easy it would be to allow himself to be taken in those strong
arms, to submit to desire and passion. But Aragorn would never really be his;
they did not belong to each other. But, Legolas thought bitterly, they could
have had that one night. Just a few hours of unbound joy and happiness, but
Legolas had pushed him away, and now it was too late. 

       He felt the hot tears begin to stain his cheeks as the horn of the Helm rang
out its clear note, but he was unaware of the loud cheer that erupted or the
rush of retreating enemy. A blissful numbness was starting to take over his
body.

       “Legolas, did you hear that” Aragorn whispered softly to him, “We’ve won!
We’ve won Legolas, just hang on and everything will be fine.” 

       He said it with such vehemence that Aragorn almost believed himself. He gazed
steadily down at the Elf laying in his arms and finally gave up on the battle
with his tears allowing them to fall unchecked as he watched his friend
struggle for breath.

      “Listen to me Legolas, you’re not going to die. I won’t let you,” He said
desperately as he brushed a few strands of golden hair from the Elf’s perfect
face. He watched with growing fear as Legolas’ breathing started to quiet, his
face begin to pale and blood coated his lips as he tried to talk.

      “Aragorn, I ….” He frowned as he tried to focus on the face of the man above
him, “I’m sorry…”

      “Shhhh,” Aragorn comforted him, “there is nothing to be sorry for.”

      “I shouldn’t… have pushed you… away Aragorn, I didn’t want to, but I couldn’t…
let you betray… Arwen, I…”

      “But Legolas, if you had only given me the chance to explain to you, I no
longer love Arwen, I see her more as a sibling as she does with me. Legolas, I
love you.”
      Aragorn couldn’t help but smile as the Elf’s eyes lit up despite his obvious
agony.

      “Love … me?” his voice breaking through his years of constrained emotion. 

      “Yes,” Aragorn started to cry harder as he felt the Elf’s blood stained hand
lifted to rest on his cheek, he leaned over so that their foreheads touched
and he could stare into those fathomless blue pools of light, “Oh Gods
Legolas, I love you so much.”

      “I love you too Aragorn, I wish…I could have…told you sooner, I’m so…sorry.”
      Aragorn held him tighter as he watched his face crease in pain as another wave
of fresh agony washed over him. Fear and panic burned in his chest. He was
losing him.

       “Aragorn?” A small voice came from behind him; resentful to turn away from
the Elf he spun his head to see Gimli, Gandalf and Eomer at his side, all
wearing matching masks of horror.

     He turned back to Legolas, he had closed his eyes and all colour had drained
from his face. Aragorn held the Elf’s hand desperately to his face, knowing
that if he let go the gentle touch would be lost to him forever.

     “Help him…” He whispered pleadingly to those at his side, “Please help him.”

     Eomer swung around and shouted to the surrounding guards that had begun to take
notice in the tableau before them. Men of all ages ran forwards to assist their
leader as he gently persuaded Aragorn to let them take Legolas. They lifted the
unconscious Elf with ease and began to carry him to where they had made their
camp the night before.

     Aragorn made to go after them but a strong grip took hold of his arm, annoyed
at this delay he swung round to meet Gandalf’s noble face.

     “What are you doing?” He asked hurriedly.

     “Aragorn, there is nothing you can to for him. I think it is best if you
address the men with Theoden.” Gandalf’s warm paternal voice slid with ease
through Aragorns mind, calming him slightly but not eliminating his fear.

     “Later Gandalf, a friend is dying.” He took a step away from the old wizard but
was surprised to find him still clutching his arm. "Let me go!”

     “Aragorn. They will do their best. I am sure that Gimli will watch over him for
you but you are needed elsewhere.”

      Aragorn shot a look at the Dwarf who was already edging in the direction of
the large white tents, and then down at his hands, glistening in the light
with still wet blood, Legolas’ blood. He took another look at the old wizard’s
grave face before stalking of in the opposite direction of Eomers guards.

        *       *      *      *      *     *     *     *     *     *      *      *  
   *      *      *      *

      Aragorn stood upon the glistening white balcony that overlooked the vast
planes of Gondor that spread out before him. He sighed heavily and ran his
hand across his brow. Tomorrow was to be his coronation, a day of celebration
and rejoicing throughout his kingdom. It didn’t seem just a few short weeks
from that fateful day.

      He couldn’t help but relive it in his mind, if only he had been quicker, if
only he had seen the enemy seeking their new target, then maybe Legolas
wouldn’t have suffered.

      He had seen him only once since that day, when he stole silently into the long
white tent that served as a make shift hospital in their camp. Most of the
beds were filled and it had taken the Man a while to find his fallen friend. 

      Legolas lay atop the sheets, shirt removed and body heavily bandaged. His skin
was paler than the man had ever seen it, and the fear that invaded his body as
he had held him once again took root in his chest. Slowly he had knelt beside
him, taking a cold hand in his as he watched the beautiful elven face.

      He had stayed with him for hours, whispering softly to him and occasionally
checking to make sure that soft breaths were still escaping his lips. His
vigil was brought to an end by a guard that had been sent to look for him. His
reluctance to leave was obvious but the guard had persuaded him to come.

      They had left the next day, early in the morning and before Aragorn had the
chance to see his dear friend. Events had blurred into one long day and
Aragorn wasn’t sure where one began and the other ended. He could only just
remember their victory at the black gates, that immeasurable feeling of relief
that washed over him. It was finally over.   

      “Estel, melamin?[my love]” Arwen’s lilting voice interrupted the path on which
his thoughts were starting to go. Slowly he turned to acknowledge what he had
resigned to be his future wife. As much as he adored Arwen as much as he would
a sister he was beginning to resent her. As soon as he had uttered those words
to the one he truly loved he knew that he could never love Arwen in that way. 

      He had known the archer from a very young age and even then he knew he had
developed feelings for him but had put it down to a deep admiration. Legolas
was everything Aragorn wanted to be, strong, youthful, skilled and wise.
Everything that the Elf did Aragorn worshipped. And even later in life when he
had grown to see him in a more adult light he had still blamed the elves
preternatural grace and beauty. 

     He looked shrewdly at the approaching Elf and couldn’t help but feel a hint of
resentment as she draped her arms around his neck and placed a chaste kiss on
his lips.

     “What troubles your thoughts dear one?” she asked in a cheery way that annoyed
Aragorn. 

“You should be happy Estel, you have returned safely to my side, the ring has been
destroyed and tomorrow you will take your rightful place among the Dunedain.” She
skipped back a step and began to fiddle idly with the sash about her waist before
turning to face Aragorn again with a thoughtful expression. Do you think Gondor has
ever seen a Queen, I wonder what they will think of me.”

      “Is that all you care about!?” Aragorn snapped, his temper had been shortening
with her over the past couple of days. She seemed to have blatantly
disregarded his feelings over the loss of friends on the quest, too busy
emersing herself in preparations for a wedding that was growing ever more
unlikely to happen.

      Arwen stopped in her ministrations and stared up with an expression of hurt
that most people would find themselves guilty of causing, but Aragorn had
known her for quite some time and new how she acted when she wanted to get her
own way.

      “What do you mean beloved?” she asked.

      “There are still people out there in fear of losing their lives Arwen. People
are still dying and all you can care about is whether people will like you?! I
thought you above all that.” 

       He strode through the room that adjoined the balcony and out the door, not
forgetting to slam it on the way out, surprising the doorguard as he stalked
down the corridor.

       Dusk had started to settle across the land as Aragorn sat watching the stars
appear in the sky from a small stone bench in one of his private gardens, his
attention caught by the brightest of all stars in the sky, Earendil, most
beloved of star of the elves. He hadn’t noticed it that much before this
night but now its presence calmed his inner turmoil.

      “My lord?” A young guard stepped nervously from the shadows. “I do not mean to
disturb you but the lord Elrond, King Thranduil and the Lord and Lady of the
Wood are arriving, do you wish to meet them at the gates?”

       Aragorn nodded to the guard and watched as he ran off to ready his horse
before getting up himself and making his way through the dimly lit corridors
to the stables. He thanked the stablemaster as he brought his steed over and
Aragorn mounted quickly, turning the horse with its reigns and not waiting to
see if his entourage was following he set of out of the castles inner gates.

      Aragorn sat astride Hasufel as he stared out into the darkness at the
approaching riders, he could already see the Lady Galadriel riding side saddle
next to Lord Celeborn, their guards hid from view the other riders behind
them.

      When they came to just a few meters from him he dismounted and bowed down low,
giving example to the men that stood behind, their faces painted with awe as
they watched the elves before them dismount from their own silver steeds.

      “My dear Estel,” Galadriel spoke softly to him, “It is so good to see you safe
again and on such a joyous occasion.” 

      Aragorn took her hand graciously and placed a soft kiss upon it before turning
and bowing once again to Lord Celeborn. His attention was soon caught by the
unusual sight of King Thranduil and Lord Elrond riding side by side.

      “My Lords, I did not expect you to be arriving together” Aragorn managed to
get out, frowning when they both smiled at him.

      “Estel,” Elrond spoke in an almost chastising way, “Do you really think that
we would miss your coronation. We merely met upon the road, a good thing to as
I had something of Thranduil’s that needed to be returned.” 

      This comment confused Aragorn even more until he averted his gaze to the man
who rode behind them. There upon a silver white horse sat the most beautiful
vision Aragorn had ever set his eyes on. The tall figure sat proudly in his
raiment of white that seemed to glow in an unearthly fashion under the
celestial lights above. Golden hair unbound and unbraided floated upon the
breeze and framed the perfect face. He watched as the man that had been in his
dreams for so many years gracefully dismounted his steed and passed the reins
to a nearby guard.

      As the angelic vision passed by the king he noted with curiosity the look that
both Thranduil and Elrond gave him. Aragorn couldn’t help but take a step
forward, unable to stop himself from finding out whether he was truly real,
and that the strains of the past few days were not playing tricks with him
mind.

     “Legolas?” His whisper was barely heard above the night breeze but the Elf’s
ears caught it, and the barely audible torrent of emotions that was released
with the simple utterance of his name.

     “Yes Estel, it is I” 

     Legolas stood only a couple of feet from his hearts desire but he could still
feel the heat given off by the Man along with the obvious tense emotions in the
air between them. He watched in silence as tears began to fill Aragorns eyes
and wasn’t at all surprised when he found himself suddenly enveloped by strong
arms.

     “Oh Gods Legolas I thought I had lost you.” Aragorn choked out, holding the Elf
tightly against him.

     “If you thought you had lost me then you know little of Elven healing powers.”
Legolas smiled through the threat of tears. “I was taken to Lord Elrond the day
you left.”

     Aragorn released his hold on Legolas and held him at arms length, checking him
over as though he didn’t believe the Elf’s words. Elrond had dismounted his
horse and had managed to sneak up behind them, causing Aragorn to jump as his
deep voice interrupted the still air.

     “He was in a bad way when he arrived with us, but he has a strong mind.
Obviously felt like living on!” He joked, clapping a hand heartily on the Elf’s
shoulder “Woke up a few days ago and insisted on being here for your crowning”

     Aragorn smiled up at his foster father as he removed his grip from the young
archer’s arms. He took a slow look around the amassed group, many of them
displaying weary faces due to days of exhausting travel. They must have ridden
hard to reach Gondor from Rivendell in only a few days.

     “Forgive me my Lords, you are tired and there is a full day of festivities
ahead of us tomorrow. When we reach the castle I will make sure you are shown
to your rooms. Not before a feast though.” He added, delighting in the uplifted
faces of many of the Elves that traveled with the group. He motioned to his
fore guards to lead the company on while he moved back to his horse and
mounted, allowing the rest of the horse guards to ride past. He waited for
Legolas to jump up on his horse, a frown deepening in his brow when he realised
that he wasn’t even making a move in that direction. The smile from the Elf’s
face had gone and was replaced with an almost mournful look. Aragorn silenced
his horse as it pawed noisily at the ground when he slid from the saddle yet
again and took a hesitant step towards the blonde Elf.

     “Legolas, mani naa ta?[what is it]” he spoke softly, automatically reverting
back into his mother language. A language he had always preferred, a language
that reminded him of the man who stood before him whenever he spoke it,
beautiful, soft, gentle.

     “Kai[nothing]” the Elf replied his eyes darting quickly to the ground when
Aragorns strayed to look at him directly. “We should be going, it grows ever
darker, and my wounds still pain me.”

     Aragorn nodded and waited until the Elf was sitting safely astride the horse
which he now recognised as the faithful Arod until he began to lead the way
back to the castle whose lighted windows flickered like burning stars in the
darkness.

       *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *      *      *      *      *     *
    *     *     *     *

      Aragorn shrugged the heavy cloak from his shoulders and handed it back to the
tailor, his assistants busying around him taking small measurements so that
they could make their final adjustments to his regalia.

      “Master Darin, do you think you can make these adjustments without me, I shall
return early in the morning for the final fitting.” He didn’t give him a
chance to argue as he stepped down from the stool and removed the black and
silver tunic to give back to one of the assistants.

      He had meant to take a walk in the gardens to clear his thoughts but had somehow 
managed to find himself outside a door not that far away from his own private
quarters. These rooms were guestrooms for Aragorn's trusted friends and colleagues.
He knew exactly resided in this room and questioned himself as to how he wound up
here.

      Why was he here? He knew what he wanted to tell him, to take the Elf in his
arms and hold him until the end of time but that was the problem. Time.

      Slowly he knocked on the door, silently praying that maybe Legolas wouldn’t
hear him. A soft voice from inside the room beckoned him to come in. As
Aragorn entered his eyes struggled to adjust to the dimly lit room, candles
littered the desks and tables that surrounded the room, their golden light
reflecting softly on the white drapes that covered most of the walls and hung
at the windows.

      “Aragorn, I thought you were being fitted for tomorrow?” Legolas stood infront
of a tall mirror with a comb in his hand, the small item causing Aragorns gaze
to shift higher and take in the soft spun sheet of gold that melted about the
Prince’s shoulders. He had never really seen him take his hair down, it
shadowed his face making it so that Aragorn could only just make out prince’s
glittering blue eyes.  He still wore his travel clothes although to the
ranger’s mind they suited him, the white setting off his features better than
his old clothes. The realisation that Legolas was probably waiting for an
answer caused Aragorn to snap out of his unconscious worship of the Elf before
him.

     “Uh… yes I was.” He stumbled around his words “I got tired and decided to go
for a walk.”

     “And you found yourself outside of my room?” The hint of scepticism in Legolas’
made Aragorn feel like a lovesick teenager again. If only the Elf knew how
right he was. He still didn’t know how he got here.

     “As you are here though there is something I would ask you.” The change in tone
made the hairs on the back of the Man’s neck stand up, and he found his heart
beating just that little bit faster. What would he ask of him? 

     Legolas indicated to one of the soft couches that sat against the wall behind
him, where he joined the Man as he sat down. Being so close to Legolas now,
Aragorn couldn’t help but notice how pale and vulnerable he looked.

     “Aragorn, I have been thinking over these past few days and I have made a
decision.” He glanced up nervously before continuing, “I have decided to sail
west with Lord Elrond when he goes”

     “What?!”

     “I have abdicated my position of Crown Prince so that my brother will take up
the throne 
when my father leaves.”

     “Legolas!” Aragorn tried to get him to look at him, to see the anguish that
those few words had caused him.

     “I just wanted to ask you one thing.” He steadily looked up, his light blue
gaze capturing that of Aragorns. “That night at the Hornburg, did you really
say what I hope you said?”

     “Do you not remember?” Aragorns voice wavered as he still battled with what it
would mean if the Elf left.

     “I am not sure if I dreamt it, waking and sleep drifted into one existence.”
     Aragorn took the Elf’s face in his hand, noticing how the look of surprise
melted into one of hesitance. He drew his face close so that he could feel the
warmth of the others breath creep over his lips, exciting him in a way he could
never believe possible.

     “Do you dream this?” He breathed.

     “No.” 

     Aragorn had never heard the Elf’s voice falter before, even in battle or when
confronted by fear. He slowly leaned in and brushed their lips together in a
soft caress, pressing further so that their lips met fully.  He drew back so
that he could look into Legolas’ darkening eyes, trying to recognise the flow
of emotions that ran swiftly through them.

     “Do you know how long I have wished to do that?” Aragorn whispered
breathlessly, smiling softly when the Elf slowly shook his head. “Not as long
as I have wanted to do this.”

     He pressed his lips back against Legolas’, an exhilarating rush of desire
coursing through him as the soft lips beneath his responded with a passion that
matched his own.

      As soft and gentle as his kiss was meant to be Aragorn soon found himself
moving to deepen their embrace. His hand slid through the Elf’s silken hair,
pulling him closer as he parted the others lips with his own, sliding his
tongue in to sweep across the Elven Prince’s, his gentle ministration met with
a soft sigh of pleasure. Aragorn smiled inwardly as Legolas kissed him back,
wondering how the Elf could leave knowing how he felt, and it was obvious to
Aragorn that Legolas felt the same.

     He reluctantly left the Elf’s lips and kissed his way along the smooth skin
across his cheekbone, his mouth coming to rest against his delicately pointed
ear.

     “I love you” He breathed softly, startled by the raw, painful emotion that was
evident in his admission.

     His doubts as to whether the Elf really did feel the same about him rose in his
mind as he felt Legolas straighten and pull back a little. Aragorn frowned and
looked back at the ethereal face that had captivated his dreams for so many
nights.

     “What is it?”

     Legolas pushed back from him, his eyes downcast as he stood and crossed the
room to lean against one of the heavy wooden posts that surrounded the large
bed.

     “Aragorn, you can’t…,” He said brokenly.

     “What do you mean?” Aragorn rose to his feet and looked imploringly at the Elf.

     “You cannot love me Aragorn, don’t you see!” He looked up at the man, not
meaning to 
reveal the pain in his eyes. “We cannot be together, it would not work. Gondor needs
an heir Aragorn, and Gods know I can’t provide you with one. And what of Arwen, she
came to see me this evening and she told me all about the wedding. How can you break
her heart like that, does she even know you don’t love her anymore.”

     “Legolas, please…” Aragorn had walked those few steps so that he could stand a
few feet from the Elf.

     “No Aragorn, I wont let you do this to her. This would never have happened if I
had stayed away from you. That’s why I’m leaving soon.”

     Aragorn moved forward and held the Elf by the shoulders.

     “You can’t leave Legolas. I love you.”

      His gentle words fuelled by desperation touched the Elf deeply. He turned his
gaze to the ceiling and blinked back the burning pricking of tears forming,
closing them tightly when he felt a warm hand reach up to stroke his face.

     “Aragorn… please don’t make this any harder than it has to be.” Legolas whispered.

     He waited for an argument but none came, he opened his eyes, unprepared for
what the look on Aragorns face would do to him. The man had never looked so
shaken, his skin had paled and glistening tracks highlighted his cheeks where
tears had fallen  

     “Oh, Aragorn, I do not want to hurt you, but cant you see that this is for the
best.” He asked, his normally cool and stoic demeanour ruined by the obvious
show of emotions he was trying to suppress. He stared at Aragorn as he nodded
his head, a piece of Legolas dying at the easy acceptance that they could never
be together. Suddenly the warm brown eyes sought his and looked at him
dejectedly.

     “Then can we at least have tonight, my fair Prince?

Legolas knew they shouldn’t, he shouldn’t have even let the King kiss him but he
needed to. He needed something to ease the pain that was killing him, the desperate
ache that can only be calmed by the touch of the one you love. He stared back at
Aragorn as his mind battled with his own morals. He shouldn’t do this.

     “I need to love you Legolas.” Aragorn pleaded.

     Legolas allowed himself to be pulled into the Mans arms pressing his face into
the crook of his neck as strong hands roamed across his back, holding him
tightly against Aragorns broad chest, soft words breathed against his ear as he
struggled to keep hold on his emotions. He drew back slowly keeping his eyes
lowered to the floor. He left Aragorn’s arms, instantly missing his touch.

     “Aragorn, I need you too but…” His words were cut short by a hand lifting his
face, warm fingers traced the line of his jaw before settling in his hair as
Legolas stared openly into Aragorns eyes, feeling his own tears threatening to
fall. He parted his lips to continue but Aragorn shook his head and placed a
finger gently to them, quietening the Elf.

      They stood in silence for what seemed like hours, their eyes locked as they
gazed at each other. Aragorn could hear the dull roar of blood pounding in his
ears as he leaned forward just enough to replace his fingers with a tender
caress of his lips. Legolas’ eyes drifted shut as Aragorn pressed against the
Elf, his lips gently brushing across the others delicately. His heart beat
faster as he felt Legolas’ resolve soften, his fragile kiss eliciting a
response in the way of an almost inaudible sigh. Aragorn slid his hand around
Legolas’ waist pulling him close along the Man’s tall frame, his tongue darted
out to sweep along the seam of the Elf’s lips seeking entrance and being
granted it.

      Legolas grasped instinctively at the front of the mans tunic as a wave of
relief and desire rushed through him leaving him weakened in Aragorn’s strong
arms. He felt the hot trails of tears staining his face as they kissed,
exploring each other deeply with a gentle tenderness that came from the
knowledge that they had only the memory of this night to hold within their
hearts in the future.

      Aragorn pulled the Elf closer along his body, his hand tightening its grip
Legolas’ golden hair as he pushed the kiss deeper, exploring the dark heat
with manly passion and moaning quietly when Legolas did the same. He broke
their kiss long enough to place gentle brushes across the archers beautiful
face coming back to seek his sweet lips in another fiery kiss. 

      Legolas’ mind was so consumed with passion that he did not notice the skilled
fingers working on his tunic fastenings untill they were half undone. He
opened his eyes as Aragorn pulled back to concentrate on what he was doing,
his steady gaze failing to hide the nervousness that hid in the clear depths.
Aragorn smiled reassuringly at him but Legolas felt he should say something.

       “Aragorn, I must say something.” He said quickly, knowing that if he didn’t
say it he never would. Aragorn eyed him with concern.

       “What is it?”

       “I think you ought to know that I never done this before. I am pure.” Legolas
could feel heat burning his cheeks as he stared down at the floor. What would
Aragorn think of him, he was still a virgin at nearly three thousand years of
age. Granted he was a prince and could not be as promiscuous as others of his
race but it was still a rarity. Just as he was preparing for Aragorn to
kindly reject him he felt a hand under his chin lifting his face until he
stared into the endless depths of the Man’s eyes.

       “I did not think you had.” He whispered softly. “You seem the type who waits
for love.”   

       “You do not think less of me?” Legolas asked.

       “No my dear love, nothing you could do could make me think any less of you. I
love you Legolas and with all my heart.” He reached up and cupped the Elf’s
face between his hands. 
“Don’t ever think any differently.”

       This time when Aragorn kissed him Legolas could feel nothing in his heart
except his mounting desire. Gods how he wanted this man, he had never felt so
complete as his body was wrapped in strong arms that lifted him into their
embrace, deepening the kiss as Aragorn shifted their weight so that they both
fell back onto the soft bed that had been nudging at the back of Legolas’
legs.

      The Elf sighed heavily as Aragorn shifted his body so that it fully covered
his, long legs and arms entwining as they shifted atop the sheets. Legolas
felt strong fingers weaving in between his own, holding his hands as they were
swept up above his head. The muscles in his back flexed as his body arched up
to meet the hot kisses that bathed his neck, a skilled tongue darted out to
lick along the smooth collarbone causing the Elf to purr low in his throat.

       Aragorn smiled against the luxurious skin, delighting in the noises he could
cause the archer to make with a simple kiss. He let his ministrations drift
lower nudging away the half open tunic so he could trail his lips across the
sculpted chest, memorising every inch of the sweet skin, the smooth planes
and gentle grooves that mapped the contours of his body. He shifted again;
grinding their clothed hips together and letting out a soft groan as their
arousal’s rubbed against one another. His body was pulled down further into
their embrace when Legolas hooked one long leg over the rangers hips alerting
him to the fact that the Elf’s feet were bare as he slowly ran his foot down
the inside of Aragorns thigh causing his breaths to come in short gasps. 

      “Mmm, Gods Legolas.” Aragorn sighed as the Elf moved beneath him, his back
arching again to bring their bodies into full contact. Just the feel of the
beautiful creature below him was enough to undo him but somehow he managed to
control his senses, long enough to realise that he should be doing something
about their state of dress. He moved so that he straddled Legolas’ hips and
could hold both of the Elf’s wrists with one hand and then reached between
them to release the last few fastenings on the white tunic, slipping his hand
underneath to run across the lean stomach. He dipped his head so that their
cheeks touched and the man whispered into the beautifully tipped ear.

      “Lava amin Ernil Legolas?[yield to me Prince Legolas]”

      “Uma, amin lava.[yes, I yield.]” Legolas gasped as Aragorns wandering hands
travelled up his chest and busied itself on a tight pink bud, travelling
across to work on its twin. Legolas had never been touched like this; he
hadn’t even touched himself like this. Occasionally others had made a pass at
him but it had never felt right, not like it did right now. He sat up as
Aragorn pulled on his hands, freeing him momentarily to enable him to remove
the offending garment that clung to his back and shoulders. Warm hands
smoothing gently over his skin quickly replaced the material.  

      Nimble fingers began to unlace the black shirt that hid Aragorns chest,
slipping underneath the warm fabric and drawing it up over the man’s head
before throwing it onto the floor, lips and tongue bathing the tanned skin.
Somewhere above him Aragorn groaned, his fingers stroking through the Elf's
hair and over the sensitive tips of his ears causing Legolas to gasp and bite
down harder on the smooth skin. His head was pulled back suddenly, eyes
locking instantly as he stared up at his beautiful ranger, his dark eyes
glittering in the half light and long shadows cast from the candles light hid
much of his face but he could still see the soft smile. He smiled back and his
lips were captured in a gentle kiss, their position changing as Aragorn laid
the Elf back against the soft sheets.

      A soft gasp escaped his lips as exploring hands crept down his body to caress
the inside of his leg, fingers gently kneading at the tense muscles in his
thigh and moving higher. Aragorns fingers made short work of the lace up ties
at the front of the snow-white trousers, and they slowly slid beneath the warm
band to stroke the Prince’s soft skin. He tugged insistently on the yielding
material bringing them down over the Elf’s slim hips and away from his body,
leaving him fully exposed in the cool night air. Aragorn allowed his gaze to
sweep over the lithe body that lay still beneath him, his fingers brushing
tenderly across the smooth skin as he mapped out Legolas’ beautiful frame with
his senses, burying his face into the crook of his neck to inhale the
intoxicating scent that was the Elf alone. Lips and tongue working on the
smooth column of his neck whilst strong fingers sought shelter in the warmth
of his golden hair that flowed around the ethereal face like a halo.

      Legolas brought his arms up so that his hands could run across the hard planes
of his back that flexed with each movement the Man made, soft cries breaking
the silence between ragged breaths as teeth grazed his marble skin. He was
constantly aware of the burning heat that continued to gather low in his body
and the delicious friction that the rangers clothed hips caused against his
naked flesh as he ground their bodies together, the future kings arousal
evident through the thin material. 

      Aragorn left his explorations to pull at his own clothing, baring his heated
skin and moaning quietly when skin met skin along the length of his aroused
body, the hairs rising to the touch of silken smoothness caressing his own
roughened and scarred complexion. His desire peaking when Legolas cried out
his name, obviously being taken by surprise when Aragorn snaked his hand down
the firmly toned body to rest between his thighs, his hand gripping and
stroking the archer to full length and causing the delightful body to move
beneath him.

      Legolas shut his eyes allowing the tremors that were causing his body to
tremble to wash over him, he held on to Aragorns shoulders, his nails forming
crimson arcs in the soft skin as the Mans grip tightened and the pace changed.
He had never believed such pleasure to exist, all these sensations so achingly
new to him. He heard a cry voiced with passion and desperation and realised
quickly that it was his own, his beautiful golden voice crying out in
pleasure. He shouted out again as warm lips and hard teeth came down to work
on the delicate point of his ear, its own small pleasure disguising the fact
that Aragorns hand had moved lower.

      Aragorn watched as the archers blue eyes flew open on the entry of one long
finger into the welcoming heat of the Elf’s body, the grip on his shoulders
tightening a fraction causing him to suck in a sharp breath through his teeth.
He saw the look of uncertainty hidden within the sparkling depths, surely this
beautiful creature could not be that innocent so as not to know what could
transpire between men. He moved within the tight heat, stretching, stroking,
showing him the pleasure of the flesh. He noticed his perfect lips parting for
another sigh to escape and quickly covered them with his own; swallowing the
low moan that was pulled from the Prince’s chest. He slowly worked his finger
round and smiled outwardly as he found that sweet spot of nerves that caused
the Elf to shake and another strangled cry fell from his lips. Quiet words in
elvish began to flow, too quiet for Aragorn to hear but he wasn’t troubled by
them. Their beauty captivated him; they seemed to suit 
 their act of love in the same way the sun seemed to fit a long day of riding. He
had always adored the Elven language, even more so when Legolas spoke or sang of
it. This Elf truly had the most beautiful voice. He kissed his brow tenderly as
another finger slowly made its way in to his body, its actions bringing about a
quiet hiss of pain from the man beneath him.

      “Shh Legolas, just relax and all will be fine.” The ranger whispered
encouragingly. He focused his attention on that sweet spot and was rewarded
with a bruising, passionate kiss as he found it, hands left his shoulders and
worked their way into his hair as Aragorn kissed Legolas back. Working to keep
up with the erotically fast rate of their embrace and trying hard to ride the
arch of the nimble Elf’s back. His fingers pressed and rubbed against the
heart of the archer’s desire, bringing him ever closer to the edge but not
quite fulfilling the pent up desire.

      Feeling a hightened sense of confidence Aragorn manouvered himslef so that he
sat between the Princes long lean legs. He gazed into the unfathomable blue
depths as his fingers left the breathtaking form and found a new grip on
slender hips. The ranger ran his hands down the long limbs and motioned for
legolas to lock his ankles around his waist, with which the Elf complied.
Aragorn leant forward, shifting his weight so that he could pull the Prince up
onto his thighs, his arousal brushing the tight entrance to Legolas’ desirous
body. Aragorn took note of the hint of supressed fear in the deep blue orbs
and leant down close to whisper softly in his ear.

     “Do not fear me fair Prince, I will go slow.” His words were finished with a
gentle kiss.

     But Legolas could not help crying out as Aragorn began the long slow slide into
his body, a burning pain assaulted him.

      “Ai, Aragorn stop, please I don’t know if I can do this.” He pleaded, trying
his best to disguise the look of pain creasing his face.

      “I promise you that I can make this better, you will just have to trust me,
but if you want me to stop then I shall.” Aragorn replied, his voice low and
quiet so that Legolas had to listen carefully to mske out his words. He slowly
shook his head and tightened the grip his legs had on the mans waist in a
motion intended to tell him to carry on.

      Aragorn slid his arm underneath the Elf’s neck, enjoying the feel of his
marble skin against his arm and rolled his hips forward, pushing into the
relentless heat, his ears forcing out the hoarse cries untill his achhing
arousal was buried to the hilt. He held the shaking form to his chest as
Legolas adjusted, not quite bringing himself to look into the Prince’s eyes
just yet. But when he did, despite the tears of pain he saw something he had
never trully seen in the eyes of another, especially when they looked upon
him. In Legolas’ eyes he saw love. An unconditional love that spoke of the
ages he had lived through, the long years he had been searching for it and the
deep relief that he had now found what he spent so long looking for. Aragorn
bent down and kissed away the salty tears that stained the fair porcelian
skin, loathing that he had caused them in any way. But the tears only served
to make him appear more beautiful, his eyes shining brightly in the soft glow
ba
 thing the room.

     “Are you okay?” He asked softly. The grip on his upper arms had lessened but
was still there, proving that tomorrow he would no doubt be bruised.

     “In a minuite.” Came the quiet reply.

     Aragorn nodded, excepting that this was new to Legolas and not wanting to rush
his love, but at the same time it was hard to ignore the explicit pleasure
caused by the pressing heat on every inch of his arousal. He forced himself to
concentrate on the beauty before him, stroking stray pieces of flaxen gold from
the smooth cheek and bathing his brow with tender kisses. 

     “Alright.”

     Aragorn pulled back gently, he angled his hips for better access and pushed
forward again, small relief rushing through him as another cry ensued, this
time one wrought of lust and passion as he brushed over the sensitive bundle of
nerves deep inside. He pushed again, deeper this time, taking note of Legolas’
responses as he continued their joint pleasure. Graceful hands snaked up his
arms, holding on tight as tremors wracked the toned body as his thrusts met the
centre of his passion again and again.

     Legolas threw his head back aginst the silk pillows, a tight shout forming in
his throat but never quite made it, it was replaced by a low empassioned groan
as hot lips bathed his neck, adding to the maddening senses the rangers
powerful thrusts were already forming. He looked up into the mans dark eyes.
How could he love this man so much? He had known him only a short time in
comparison and yet his heart had fallen for him completely. He felt the
familiar burn of tears begin and shut his eyes tightly, allowing himself to
feel nothing but the breathtaking physical pleasure assualting his body. His
hands left Aragorns shoulders and twisted into the sheets as he felt his body
begin to tighten. He had never believed such pleasure to exist, he had never
lost control, but now he was glad to, to surrenedr to such heart wrenching
passion and lust that could come about from gentle caresses and warm kisses.

      Aragorn could feel himself losing his grip on control, the burning in his
thighs only adding to his peaking lust. He quickly took hold of Legolas’
hands, threading their fingers together he held them above his head leaning
into the new position. He rocked forward slowly, eliciting a new more
desperate cry as Legolas struggled to adjust to the deepened angle, his mind
spiralling into another world as the delicious friction burned along his
senses. A quiet whisper interrupted his thoughts and he opened his eyes to
lock gazes with his beloved.

      “Vesta amin tenoio legolas?[promise me forever]” Came the soft utterance
again. Legolas was so close to the edge it was hard to think and the man was
not relenting the powerful thrusts.

      “Tenoio Aragorn, amin mela lle.[forever, I love you.]” Legolas breathed in
reply and was granted with a grinding of hips that slid roughly back into his
body and pushing him forcefully over the edge. His back arched as he cried out
Aragorns name, his body clenching around the future king and pulling him along
as he took a momentary leap into the stars. His muscles jumped and shook with
a raw pleasure that seemed to last forever yet not long enough.

      Aragorn fell limp as his body crashed back down to earth, his rushed breathing
uncontrollable as he rested his head against the Prince’s chest listening
intently to the wildly beating heart that lay under muscle and bone. He smiled
wearily as his mind rested in ecstacy, revelling in what they had just done.
He had loved this fair creature for longer than he could wholly remember, his
deep admiration as a child growing into an even deeper love.

      His spent body was surrounded by long muscular arms loosely embracing him. He
looked up at the fair creature he lay upon, his eyes closed peacfully, lips
parted slightly as slowing breaths left his tired frame. He withdrew
regretfully, instantly missing the intimate contact but feeling it necessary
if he were going to retrieve the light silk sheet that lay folded at the end
of the large bed. He pulled the soft material up and over their spent forms,
gathering the Elf in his arms as he lay back against the cool sheets.

      “Did you mean it?” He asked softly, his hand idly stroking through the golden
hair that flowed around around Legolas’ face and across his chest where he
lay.

      “Mean what?”

      “When you promised me forever. Will you really hold me in your heart for that
long?”

      “You have lain in my heart for what seems an eternity already, and you always
shall my love. But we can never be Aragorn, do not even think of it. You
agreed with me, you must do what is best for Gondor."

      Aragorn fell silent, his eyes resting on the vision of this fey creature
spread along his body, head resting on his chest, rising and falling with
every breath he took, he smiled when blue eyes chanced a look up and made a
wordless reasurance in the way of a chaste kiss.

      “Sleep my angel.” He whispered, closing his own eyes. All the past worries and
tension of the past few weeks melting away at the feel of the Elf warm against
his side. 


       The first rays of the sun shone suddenly into the lightening room, wakening
the occupant in an instant. Legolas shifted out of his un-elflike position
curled up on his side, the silk sheet resting low on his hips as his hand
reached out to his side, his mind knowing what he would find but still his
heart hoped. The bed was empty. He turned and looked over to where Aragorn
had lain, the ruffled sheets evidence of his being there. His eyes rested on
a small folded piece of parchment that lay on the pillow, he took the small
note and unfolded it to read the simple statement written in Aragorns
unmistakable handwriting.

      ‘You were right.’

      He couldn’t even find the strength in himself to cry, instead he simply
returned the note back to the pillow and stood, reaching for his discarded
clothes from the night before he pulled them on, feeling a sudden
vulnerability in the warm morning air.

      There was a small knock at the door and Legolas bade them entrance. A young
man stood nervously in the doorway and shut it again behind them, he gave a
small bow and continued to speak.

      “My lord, I have been sent to assist you in readiness for the coronation. The
celebrations begin shortly and King Elessar himself sent me to aid you.”

      Legolas looked up at the last statement.

       “Why did he send you?” his questioned puzzled the young man who had obviously
not prepared for this encounter. He was no doubt getting over the shock of
seeing an Elf for the first time, let alone speaking to one Legolas thought.

      “He said that last night you complained of battle wounds still paining
yourself, he has also brought the celebrations forward somewhat as he has told
me that a few alterations to the post coronation speech have been made.”

      Legolas frowned slightly and nodded, motioning for the boy to come in further
allowing himself to smile fractionally at the awed expression on his face.

      The Coronation itself was a long and arduous affair filled with lengthy
speaches and rehearsed vows of loyalty. Aragorn had grown tired of the whole
process and couldn’t understand why they couldn’t just crown him and it be
over in a few minutes. His heavy cloak made him hot the other royal regalia
ranging from rings to swords only added to his frustrations. He couldn’t turn
around to see the number of people who were seated behind him, he was certain
Legolas sat behind him, he had chosen those few himself, mainly Elves sat
behind him and the remaining members of the fellowship. He could feel all eyes
burning into his head as the weighty crown was placed atop his brow. 

      A roar erupted from the crowd and behind him Aragorn could hear the
unmistakable laugh and shout of one Peregrin Took followed by the gently stern
voice of Gandalf telling him to sit down. Ushers escorted the crowds out of
the grand hall and into the courtyard. This was the only time in the day that
Aragorn would be able to rest, the gap between his crowning and the speech.
Once all the crowds were gone he quickly removed the crown from his head and
spun round out of his throne to look at the others retreating. A small Hobbit
hand waving franticly at him as it was pulled from the hall, he made his way
as quickly as he could over to where Legolas was engaged in conversation with
Gimli ignoring the calls from his personal assistants.

      “Legolas, I need to talk with you.” He voiced breathlessly.

      Legolas made to answer but his opinion was cut short by an interuption in the
shape of Arwen who threw herself around Aragorn’s neck.

       “Oh my darling Estel you were wonderful.” She enthused, “You simply must come
see what Eowyn is wearing, I want a dress made just like hers, come on.” She
took hold on his wrist and pulled as she leant back, but Aragorn wouldn’t
budge, casting a look of annoyance her way.

       “Arwen, I wish to take counsel with Legolas. I will speak with you later.” He
snapped.

       “Estel! You can speak with him later. Come on!” she pulled harder on his
wrist but he shook her off and dismissed her. She snorted and walked off
quickly.

       “Well I can honestly say I have never met her but I am certainly glad of your
friendship Legolas. I am sure I could never handle her temper good naturedly.
How do you do it Aragorn.” Gimli laughed heartily and clapped the newly
crowned king roughly on the arm.

       “I wonder myself sometimes.” He murmered in reply, all the while his gaze
locked with the Elf’s.

       “Will you speak with me Legolas, it is important.” He pleaded  

       “Later maybe, my liege, I need to speak with Elrond about our travels.” He
whispered, blinking away the threat of tears that seeing both he and Arwen
together had caused and hoping that Aragorn could not see past the mask of
calm he had resigned himself to wearing today, he smiled to Gimli and moved
away but a steel grip caught him off guard. The small touch burned his skin
where the Mans fingers encircled his wrist and his gaze was drawn back up to
those peircing dark eyes. Legolas could see the imploring look in them but he
shook his head.

       “Leave me Aragorn, we shall speak later if you still wish.”

       “But what I need to tell you must be said now.”

       But it was too late, Legolas had worked free of the Mans grip and was halfway
across the hall by the time Aragorn could find his voice, he thought of
calling after him or even chasing him but he was receiving many stares from
those around him already, an especially calculating look bieng thrown at him
by the dwarf at his side.

       The large stone balcony was crowded with People that had attended the
crowning, all seated in rows in the centre of which was a podium. King
Elessar slowly made his way up to it, being greeted with a wall of noise from
the streets below. He smiled and waved like he was told to. He looked both
sides of him relieved when he saw the familiar face sitting close to him. He
had feared that maybe Legolas would not come to the speech. He smiled briefly
and was returned with one in kind. He was going to do this. Slowly Aragorn
took a deep breath and faced his people. This would be a day to remember.

       “My loyal subjects.” Another huge cheer from the crowd. “I thank you for
coming today 
for I believe that a king is nothing without his people. Today I have completed a
journey, one that has spanned the decades of my life. As a child my mother and
father were killed leaving me an orphan. I was taken in by the Lord of Rivendell,
Elrond, who I have come to look upon as a father. I grew up with the Elves, I learnt
their ways, their skills, and their love for beauty and peace. When I came of age I
was told of my true heritage and forgive me please for not returning to the white
city then but I was afraid. I believed men to be weak and felt that I was no
stronger than my ancestors and Gondor needed someone stronger than I. So I became a
ranger, walking the paths of middle earth alone and for many years. I returned to
Rivendell not so long ago to learn of a great danger, the One ring was being called
by its master. I vowed then that if I couls aid in its destruction then I would see
my self worthy of taking up the throne. A fellowship set out that day to accompany
th
 e ring bearer, one mister Frodo Baggins of the shire. I think it only fair that I
mention the others that chose to go with Frodo on that perilous quest for with out
them we most surely would have failed in our task. Master Samwise Gamgee, loyal
friend of Mister Frodo Baggins. He has a good heart and provided many words of
strength when their was little to be found.” He looked across at the hobbits and
saw Sam blushing merrily.

       “Master Peregrin Took, who had the ability to lighten our hearts in the
darkest of places. Master Meriadoc Brandybuck who’s bravery surpassed any
others. My dear friend Gandalf, there is so much I can say about this friend
of old. His wisdom, majesty and leadership kept us from losing hope and our
way. Master Gimli, a true warrior with a stout heart who faught with a
passion to see this evil destroyed. Boromir, son of Gondor, who was a valued
member of our group, he met his end in qan admirable way, he died saving the
lives of two others in our fellowship. He shall be forever in our hearts. And
finally my most trusted of friends, Prince Legolas of Mirkwood. His skills as
an Elf were forever called upon on our journey. Without him by my side I
would surely have perished on many occasions, I owe him my life.”

       He glanced around and saw a genuine smile lighting up the Prince’s face
though his eyes betrayed him. He still saw pain and hurt there.

        “The Ring was destoyed and Sauron’s power lifted and now I have returned and
I pledge on my honour that I shall serve Gondor as best I can and will all
my power. Many of you will know that I do not intend to serve alone, another
shall join me and sit by my side as equal monarch. I fell in love many years
ago with one of the fair race and I believe that they will serve Gondor just
as well I could. Their beauty and wisdom blind me, they are graceful and
pure of heart. They have shown me the actions of my ways and have taught me
that good lies within me, and that I have the power to make a difference. I
have given my heart so freely to them and I trust them with my life. I hope
in time you will come to do the same.”

       Behind him he could hear Arwen shifting excitedly in her seat, he couldn’t
help the wry smile that curled his lips as he stepped back from the podium
and turned to face the gathered number that sat patiently behind them. He
looked at Elrond who sat next to Arwen, searching his foster fathers deep
brown eyes he shook his head slightly. Elrond returned his gaze, excepting
what he knew was going to happen and nodded, a forgiving smile playing on his
face. His stare turned to Arwen who had moved to the edge of her seat ready
to stand, but he did not take her hand. Instead he walked past her, ignoring
her bemuzed remark to her father.

       He passed the Lord and Lady, King Thranduil and the newly positioned Crown
Prince of Mirkwood coming at last to kneel infront of his true love. A look
of brief panic crossed Legolas’ smooth Elven features but was Quickly pulled
back under control, his emotions hidden behind the carefully placed mask. 

       “What are you doing Aragorn?” Legolas asked him quietly, aware of the stares
of confusion and surprise as the king took the Elf’s hands in his.

       “I am doing what is best for Gondor my love. Will you serve beside me?”

       Legolas stared at Aragorn silently, mind reeling at what the man was
offering. He looked to his side searching the faces near to him. His brother
watched their interaction with silent wonder and surprise, next to him his
father. The usually stern eyes had softened and a gentle knowing smile lit
his face. He knew all about this.

      He was suddenly aware of Arwen sitting not that far away, she had stood but
was prevented from going anywhere by a vice like grip on her arm by Elrond.
The look on her face was anything but upset, she was angry, more insulted than
anything.

       “What are you doing Estel?!” She shouted.

       Aragorn ignored her and the low murmers of the crowd below, they couldn’t see
the tableau unfolding on the balcony. He kept staring intently into the Elf’s
deep blue eyes, his heart beating madly in his chest.

       “Legolas?”

       The Elf suddenly found himself rising to his feet, his elevated position
giving him view of the masses that were gathered beneath the balcony. He
turned and looked upon all the familiar faces, all wearing the same masks of
suspense. A collective breath and a horrified shriek was released when he
turned back to Aragorn and smiled. There was another shout and cheer from
Pippin followed by one of Gandalf’s orders to sit down. Warm fingers curled
hesitantly around the Princes, finally pulling his hand flush against
Aragorn’s, both could feel the how much the other was shaking.

        Legolas’ smile widened as Aragorn pulled him insistently towards the front
of the balcony, raising their joined hands before them for all to see.
Legolas expected hesitation, he expected murmers, he even expected silence
from the crowd as their king raised the hand of his male lover. What Legolas
had not expected was the all encompassing roar from the streets below. It
seemed almost to him that it was one voice from one giant being, drowning
out the shouts of outrage from Arwen as she stormed from the balcony. The
standing crowd parting to let her go before swallowing the space where she
had been.

        Aragorn turned to face his love, completely unable to stop the mad grin that
spread wide across his face at the sight of this most beautiful Elf
radiating happiness and joy as he looked out across the sea of bodies,
coloured flags and banners fluttering in the wind. The crowd still cheered.

        “They love you.” He leaned in close to whisper softly in the Elf’s ear. “I
love you.”

        He took the lithe frame in his arms, holding him tightly against his chest
as the crowd cheered on, dimly aware of the rather Hobbit like shouts and
whistles that assailed his ears. 
       
“Gods legolas, I love you so much. To think I nearly made the worst mistake of my
life and let you go.”

        “Maybe we should wait until later to talk about this Aragorn, it seems your
chancellor wishes to speak rather urgently with you.” Legolas laughed as he
pulled back, noting the look of annoyance on Aragorn’s face at seeing the
red faced man amid the crowd of happy faces.
  
       A loud cry broke the crisp silence as Aragorn pressed his weight bodily
against Legolas, trapping him effectively against the wall as he kicked the
door shut with his foot. His hands already buried in the Elf’s golden hair,
his lips moving hotly against the soft, pliant mouth. Craving every taste as
he pushed his tongue into the wet warmth, devouring the sweet darkness in a
way that echoed dully in his mind. A familiar passion gripping him hard as in
his mind he reached back to the beautiful night when he had so brazenly
proclaimed his love of the fair Prince. But one thing had changed since then.
It was now both the time and the place, and this time Legolas wasn’t pushing
him away. Instead he was welcoming his passionate embrace and matching it
with his own lust filled kiss, long fingers twisting into the rangers hair as
they sought out a whole new depth to this mind spinning kiss.

     Aragorn released the perfect lips as he ground his hips against the Elf, blonde
satin tickling his neck as Legolas rested his head against the kings shoulder,
a low groan breaking forth from his parting lips as Aragorn pressed against him
again. A fiery need erupted in him, a need to be possessed, a need to be owned,
a need to eradicate the lingering pain of nearly losing the man that meant
everything in the world to him.

     “Take me.” He whispered darkly against the mans tanned skin, his tongue darting
out to lick along the length of his neck until it reached his ear. “Now.”

     Aragorn pulled back, mildly shocked at the feral tone to the Elf’s voice but
the look in his eyes put any fear or doubt at the back of his mind. It was as
if Legolas had somehow cast a spell on his senses, overcome with the agonising
desire to make Legolas scream his name, to take him completely, leave him
senseless and trembling in his arms, maybe even hurt him. He caught the
predatory smile, slow and suductivly playing at the corners of pink lips.
Aragorn smiled back before the onslaught of his lust fuelled assault on the
perfect elven body before him. He kissed him deeply, fingers expertly working
to shed the beautifully embroidered clothing from the finely toned frame.
Occasionally tugging on the slim waist as they continued over to the bed, the
covers still unmade from the night before, the smell of sex lingering in the
air only adding to their heightened senses. The maids had obviously not visited
the Princes room yet, it was then Aragorn remembered he had given th
 em all a day off.

      He growled quietly as he pushed Legolas back forcefully, the beautiful blonde
landing softly against the strewn covers. He smiled softly when Aragorn tore
his breeches down and off, ridding himself of his own restrictive clothing
before climbing up onto the bed and claiming the soft lips again in a kiss
that was anything but tender.   

      Legolas cried out as he was roughly pushed over onto his front, hot lips
meeting the back of his neck as he stretched out beneath Aragorns long body.
Hand twisted into silken sheets as skilled hands ran the length of the Elf’s
oversensitive body, ripples of pleasure coming strong and fast as the King
slowly slid his finger into the welcoming heat, quickly finding and
manipulating that familiar spot that made Legolas cry out in passion.

      “Oh, gods Aragorn, I need you. Please.”

      “But this hurt you the last time, my love.” Legolas gasped and buried his face
into the covers as Aragorn continued to explore him, adding another finger,
then a third.

      “I don’t care Aragorn, just, please.”

Aragorn reached beneath the supple frame, taking the Elf’s arousal in his hand and
applying pressure to the base as he sped up his actions inside Legolas’ body. The
archer gave a hoarse cry as he felt his climax approach, but it never came. His
ranger had effectivley stopped him from coming, the pressure mounting inside him
like a dam with no release. He wasn’t fully aware of the arms that curled around his
chest, pulling him up so that he sat against Aragorn’s chest, the kings arousal
pressing into the base of his spine, enticing, inviting.

      “Are you ready?” soft, quiet, undefinably exiting. Rough hands settled against
the Princes hips, lifting him and bring him down again swiftly. Never giving
him the chance to answer.
Legolas shouted out, incomprehensible words in his mother tongue at the rough
entrance. The pain was almost unbearable, indescribable but at the same time
strangly arousing. It felt like Aragorn was claiming him, slamming hard into his
body like an animal would and Legolas could only beg for more as he pushed back
against him. Maybe it was because he was doing things completely unexpected of him,
the thought that finally he was free from having to live up to others expectations,
that now he could belong to another. Be possesed, be owned. He had given this man
his heart, and now he would give up everything else for him, including all his
inhibitions that leading a sheltered life as the Prince of Mirkwood had instilled
within him. 

      He fought the urge to scream again at the pain of Aragorns pulsing arousal
sliding roughly back into him, but instead found his body responding to the
pleasure as Aragorn rocked against him, their position offering them a deep
intimacy that fulfilled both their desires.

      “You are so beautiful my Prince.” Aragorn whispered huskily against the sweat
slicked skin covering the Elf’s neck.

      “As are you my King.” Came the breathless response.

      Short, deep moans issued forth as warm hands ran up the firm chest, exploring
every inch from a new angle, lips and tongue bathed neck and shoulder. Legolas
leaned back, his head tipping and spilling the golden mane down Aragorns own
sweat slicked shoulders, a low empassioned groan filling the air as the man’s
hands dropped to caress the inside of  straining thighs.

      “Why do you act like this?” Aragorn breathed roughly against soft skin.

      “Because of you Aragorn, it is you who has this affect on me.”

      Warm hands stroked gently, teasingly along soft, supple skin, feeling the
muscles flex at each languid touch. Pulling hurried pants from the heaving
chest as they skimmed the Princes burning desire.

      “Ah….Aragorn, please.”

      Sharp teeth bit tenderly at all the right places, the soft juncture of neck
and shoulder, laid bare to him by the Elf’s wanton position. His strong legs
braced each side of the man’s, spine arched against his chest. Slim hands
resting lightly on roughened ones, echoing the lovers touch as they ran
enticingly upwards, barely touching.

      “I…Ah…need you.”

     A long slow lick of hot tongue met its end in the beautifully personal meeting
of ear tip and human lips, it’s sensation pulling the flexible body taut
against him.

     “Ai….Illuvatar!

    Incomprehensible, whispered words graced the man’s ears, graceful fingers thread
between his own as Aragorn held his hand over the place where he could feel the
madly beating heart, it’s rhythm matching his own as he shifted purposefully
beneath the pliant form.

     “What do you want me to do to you?”

     A voice, dark with passion filtered through the heated air and reached the
beautifully sculpted ears moments before soft lips did.

     “Finish me.”

     His reply was met with a feral growl, unlike anything the Elven Prince had ever
heard before. He was held tightly against the Man’s hot, damp skin, fingers
scratching slightly on the marblesque surface of the Elf’s chest. The other
hand coming down, applying pressure once again when long grinding rolls of the
rangers hips thrust him deep into the willing frame, each new drive releasing
an ever increasingly pleasurable sounds. A strong grip tightened on his thigh,
so he tightened his, eliciting a frustrated cry as the Elf found himself so
achingly close to release but forced to back away as the man literally forbade
him climax. 

     “Aragorn, please!” Legolas practically begged the man.

     “Patience my Prince.”

     Aragorn continued to tease the Elf, his hand stroking quickly against the
smooth skin, driving him ever closer to the edge, alternating between powerful
thrusts and gentle strokes untill he could feel the exquisite body tightening,
muscles trembling against Aragorns body. Each time Legolas was close to
release, his eyes closed tightly, breaths coming in loud gasps and pants,
Aragorn would stop, holding back his climax untill the Elf was left trembling,
his hot, limp body supported in the King of Gondor’s arms. He had long ago
given up on speech, his responses coming as low moans, sharp gasps and quiet
sobs as the King carried on with his relentless assault on Elven flesh. He
whimpered pitifully as warm hands settled again on his burning arousal, it’s
pace matching the one that drove meaningfully into his worn body. An arm
wrapped its way around his chest when he would have fallen forward, hot tears
of frustration and weariness fell unchecked against his flushed cheeks.
 
      “Please Aragorn, I cannot take any more. Please stop.” He whispered quietly.
His strength failing him completely.
  
     Aragorn smiled ruefully as he tenderly kissed his lovers neck, he pulled
himself free of the captivating body with some difficulty, the Elf’s body
responding beautifully to every movement he made. He turned the Prince in his
arms, his mouth covering Legolas’, who was too tired to kiss back. Never the
less Aragorn pressed himself against the lax mouth, his tongue thrusting in to
taste the sweet darkness beyond the sumptous lips. He could feel the low moan
gathering in the Elf’s chest but it never seems to find its escape, much like
Legolas’ desire.

      Slowly, tenderly, he guided the Prince back so that he lay against the soft
pillows, deep pants and shallow gasps ensuing any time the rangers hands would
brush his skin. He almost felt guilty when a tired sob left the tremor wracked
body. Who would have thought that he could have reduced the proud, strong
Prince of Mirkwood to this, this beautiful body laying shaken in his arms as
he soothed the creased brow with soft kisses. He inclined his head so that he
could lick hotly at his cheeks, the salty tears melting into his tongue in
what many would describe as a crued gesture. There was nothing like being in
control. Knowing that he had the power to do this, to reduce the one he loved
to something that begged him for his touch, that would do anything right now
to have his release, nearly killed him, nearly pulled him over the edge
himself. But not now, not yet. He was going to make this good for him.

     “Stay here.” He whispered.

    Legolas mumbled something incoherent but it only served to amuse the one who was
retreating from the bed, not forgetting to swipe teasingly at the Elf’s turgid
arousal with his tongue as he left.

    Legolas lay prone upon the bed, his sweat slicked skin cooling fast in the cold
night air that found its way in though the open window. He shivered but was
unable to move to pull the sheet across his body. He wondered where Aragorn had
gone, he wondered why he was behaving like this. He could feel his body
thrumming with unspent pleasure, as though the next touch would send him
crashing over the edge and onto the cliffs below. He was considering the thought
of maybe finishing himself off when a hand placed itself against his face,
brushing away the few strands of hair that clung desperately to the side of his
face. He slowly opened his eyes as Aragorn sat down on the edge of the bed,
leaning over he stole a quick kiss.

    “Come with me.” He spoke softly, his fingers smoothing away the lines on his
face before his hand slipped beneath Legolas’ neck, the skin still hot there as
he pulled him flush against his chest, his other arm pulling his legs up as
Aragorn stood. In any ordinary circumstances Legolas would have objected to
being treated as such but in his current state he was in no position to argue.
He pushed his face into the man’s neck and inhaled deeply, savouring each moment
of this beautifully tender gesture. 

     Legolas was somehow dimly aware of how the atmosphere changed around them, the
cold air replaced by warmth. Hot, damp air shrouded them as Aragorn carried
them both into the bathroom, the low sunken bath filled to the brim. Aragorn
slowly sat upon the edge of the stone ledge, his legs sinking into the deep
water before sliding the rest of him in, holding Legolas tightly within his
arms. He smiled at the contented sigh that left the Elf’s body, responding with
a gentle kiss upon his forehead.

     He moved them so that he could hold legolas on his lap, facing him, the Elf’s
forehead resting wearily against his shoulder as Aragorn whispered softly to
him.

     “My beautiful Angel. What happened to all your strength. How many times did we
run for hours, from sunrise to sunset, for days on end. You never tired then.
All the times when we were In battle, when you faught with unfatigueable vigour
and never once did you hurry for breath. What brings you to such ruin now?”

     Legolas stirred against his body, his head raising untill he could look his
lover in the eye. Those blue depths shining with defiance.

     “It is you my leige that brings me to ruin. If only you had turned to me and
seen on many occasions I faught for calm, struggled for a steady breath after
seeing you. You set me aflame. It was for you that I ran day after day, it was
for your cause that I fuaght by your side through the storm tossed nights, and
it is for you my King that I would gladly surrender my life for.”

     “Legolas, you…
 
     Aragorn’s statement was cut short by a pair of silken lips pressed fully
against his own.

     “I would, King of Men, give up my very being for you, but being Sylvan, I
cannot. Do not let your mind be troubled… I have other things planned.”

     The Elf raised his brow as the man looked at him questiningly, but his thought
were quickly cast aside as Legolas pressed up against him, their lips meeting,
mating in a passionate duel. Warm, wet golden silk stuck to them as they fought
for dominance, the feeling of closness only intensified by the way their limbs
slid and slipped over each other as they clung desperatly to each other.
Legolas still weak from his teasing assualt to hold on, eventually he submitted
allowing the expert hands to caress his body, re-igniting the flames that ran
through his veins. He reached out backwards as Aragorn leant against him,
shifting so that they were pressed up against one of the marbles walls, hot
water lapping at the Princes shoulders as he stared up into Aragorns eyes. He
saw the same predatory gleam enter them as the man’s hand slipped below the
water, but this time Legolas caught it.

     “No teasing Aragorn, not this time. Love me.”

     Aragorn was touched by the simplicity of the words, love me. Wasn’t he doing
that already, did he really need proof. But then again what better way of
proving one’s love than love’s own mind blowing act of physicality. Aragorn
nodded slowly, the hand intended for the Elf’s arousal instead rested on his
smooth hip, stroking gently as he pushed his legs beneath the supple body.

    “Keep your eyes open, I want to look at you as I take you.”

    Those words alone were enough to undo the Elf, but nothing could surpass the
breathtaking feeling of his love, the man he had admired from afar for so long,
sliding long, slowly into him. Legolas’ mouth opened but no sound came out, only
short shallow breaths as he touched something deep inside, burning his very
soul.

    Aragorn saw how very close the Prince was to his release, the gentle thrusts
into his body reducing him once again to a trembling bundle of nerves in
Aragorns arms, the mans strength stopping him from drowning under the lapping
water. He stared into his eyes as he pushed deeper, the look on the Elven
Prince’s face the most erotic sight the man could have laid his eyes on, he
looked almost…afraid. His breaths came in shuddering pants as the man continued
to work within him.

    “Aragorn…” by the desperate tone in his voice and they way slim hands braced
themselves tightly against thickset shoulders, Aragorn knew that this was the
most instense thing that Legolas had ever experienced. He smiled and kissed the
side of his face.

    “Shhh, go with it. Don’t fight it.”

    Hands moved to his back where nails dug in, their marks stinging beneath the hot
water. A small cry erupted as Aragorn shifted, his hips grinding and sending his
burning arousal into the tight heat once again, he pulled out gently, instantly
missing the intimate embrace and so pushing back, deeper this time.

    “Ai…sii[now]…seas[please].”

    Legolas was begging, crying now as he held Aragorn tightly, his body twitching
and tightening, the growing sensation more powerful than every other and it was
now that he silently thanked Aragorn for biding his time, for dealing out such a
cruel punishment. He was unaware of any other part of Aragorn except his eyes,
those steel grey eyes that looked at him calculatingly as he slid his hard
arousal into Legolas’ body again, he too could feel the tension rising in the
toned body. Anticipating his release Aragorn pulled slowly from the welcoming
heat as he reached round to wrap his hand around the Archer’s desire. His stroke
picking up pace untill he could feel the unmisakable contractions begin at which
point he slammed himself back in, impaling himself within Elven flesh and
forcefully pushing Legolas over the edge. A primal cry erupted from the Prince’s
throat as his body spasmed, spine arching, practically breaking as his climax
ripped through him.

    “Aragorn!”

    Never had his name sounded so sweet as when it fell from those lips in moments
of passion. Aragorn fell forward as he too was claimed by waves of undescribable
pleasure. His body was held tightly as Legolas continued to ride the crest of
this most beautiful wave, clutching desperatley to the kings shoulders. Together
they came down slowly, reality settling in with soft edges and muted sounds, all
their cares focused on the one held in their arms. 

     Aragorn shifted so that he could gaze upon the Elf’s face, his heart falling
evermore as he lost himself in those sparkling depths. He reached up and ran
his fingers across the perfect cheek, caressing the smooth skin and marvelling
at its softness, and his luck to have one so precious as Legolas here in his
arms. He supressed a groan as he felt the aftershocks of climax run through the
Prince’s body. Leaning down he captured those parted lips in a soft kiss,
inhaling the sweet breaths and soft gasps.

     “I love you.”

     The whisper passed across his lips, and Aragorn knew it was true, and for the
first time in the entirety of his life he felt nothing but joy and elation at
being given the chance to live, to love.

     “I love you too my Angel.”