Title: ‘How could you know, O possibly know, that the reins of my soul are in your 
hands!’
Author: The fair one
Author's E-mail: Lottie_83uk@yahoo.co.uk
Pairing: Aragorn/Legolas, Haldir/Legolas, Elrond/Legolas, Elrond/Haldir (whew!)
Rating: NC17
Summary: Legolas is dying, the three remaining Lords of middle earth try something 
quite beautifully drastic to save his life.
Disclaimer: The characters, names, places etc. are obviously Tolkiens. It would be heresy 
to claim otherwise ( and I'm a good girl honest!). Character images mostly belong to 
Peter Jackson, New Line and to those breathtaking actors that own them. I don’t claim to 
have any right to any of them, and I'm not making any money ( mores the pity!) 
Everything else here is mine though; well except the title and the beginning quote 
(adapted as it is) they belong to Ibycus and Dylan Thomas (a fellow countryman, Cymru 
yn byth! This is from ‘Love in the asylum’. Read it its brilliant. In fact read all his work, 
its all breathtakingly beautiful.) respectively.
Authors Note: hope you like this; its been my first fic for a while, but I had such nice 
feedback from the others (thanks guys :-)!) That I just had to write this one. Well I'm only 
three years off becoming a doctor ( and then hopefully a cosmetic surgeon), so I don’t get 
that much time to write. Let me know if you think this one is worth me carrying on. I 
love feedback!!!!

===============================================================

“And taken by light in his arms,
At long and dear last I may without fail.
Suffer the first vision that set fire to the stars.”


He could see him, but only in profile. His beautiful, slender, lithe body 
facing westward; towards the dying light. The evening breeze caught his 
waves of golden hair, trailing them out behind him like the banners of 
Gondor that fluttered overhead. Even silhouetted as he was Aragorn could 
see the tension fixing his delicate features into a firm mask. He was clad 
only in a leggings and tunic of the lightest material that the wind worried it 
greatly; yet he was elven and reveled their ability to feel no cold. So it was 
with a quivering heart that Aragorn realised he was shivering.
He crossed to him quickly, shirking his own cloak he wrapped it about the 
elfs shoulders. For a moment Legolas didn’t move, then slowly he raised 
cobalt questioning eyes to meet Aragorns’ own.
“You were cold.” He said by way of explanation, more afraid still that 
Legola’ elven senses had not alerted him to his less than stealthy 
approach.
Legolas nodded meekly and drew the rough rangers cloth further about his 
shuddering shoulders.
“Its going Aragorn, the Valdars grace is leaving me. I feel it slipping away 
with each ray of dusk.” There was fear in his voice now, naked terror. 
Legolas reached out and clasped Aragorn to him; unbidden his fingers 
reached up to clasp the Evenstar pendant where it hung about his neck, he 
gasped. Without thought Aragorn slipped it off and put it about the elfs 
neck, frightened when Legolas gave a sharp cry and tore it off as if it had 
burned him.
“I have tarried to long.” Legolas whispered against his collarbone. 
“Unwilling to choose between friends and heritage it has been chosen for 
me. The darkness grows, and now there will be no ship to bear me away. I 
am mortal, and I am dying.” With these words he fainted clean away in his 
arms.
Aragorn caught him instantly, marveling at how little his wonderful body 
weighed. Tucking his cloak tight around him he ran back in the direction 
of the hall of Minas Tirith. Beyond the door he was frustrated to find the 
throne room empty; yet why should it not be? He was not king yet (though 
Arwen had forsaken his love and sailed for the halls of Manos, unable to 
bear the burden of a mortal life.) And Dethenor was dead. Groaning he 
turned into the corridor which lead away from the cursed throne of 
Gondor. There were two yet in Minas Tirith whom he sought, two who 
would perhaps be able to aid the Prince Legolas; the brightest star left in 
all middle earth. Almost unconsciously his feet lead him to the library, 
vast and detailed they were the pride of his city. Bursting into its bookish 
quiet he looked about him desperately; he now stood upon a raised 
balcony from which steps lead down in the shelf lined chasm below. There 
were four figures moving in the gloom, and with relief he recognized two 
as those whom he sought. His unceremonious entry had roused them from 
their study and they came up the stairs to greet him, the whiteness of the 
leaders robes almost blinding in the semi-darkness.
“Aragorn?” Mithrandir asked anxiously glancing down at the limp bundle 
in his arms. He pushed back the cloak to expose Legolas’ startlingly pale 
face by way of explanation, the two figures behind Gandalf gasped.
“The Valdars grace has left him, I believe he is dying.”
The two who had gasped pushed their way forward, Aragorn was struck 
by the startling beauty of the last remaining elves in Middle Earth. Elrond 
put a slender hand against the smooth skin of his cheek, and shook his 
head as if to dislodge the unhappy thought.
“He is so cold, I fear it may be too late.”
Suddenly Haldirs hand was over his, tracing the line of his high, clean 
cheekbone; his jaw set in determination.
“There is perhaps one way.” He spoke slowly. Elrond looked the 
Marchwarden in vague horror.
“I know of what you would do Haldir, but you must heed that there are but 
two of us now. Our grace is much diminished, we keep from the sea only 
by word of bond. I fear we do not have enough strength left.” Aragorn 
looked between his old friends in confusion, seeing the fear in Elrond and 
the decision in Haldir. It was then that Mithrandir spoke.
“Then Aragorn must join with you. The Valdars remaining grace burns in 
him like an unquenchable flame. It is in him that hope lies, so must it be 
here. Let him take that which must be given, I believe perhaps it was 
always meant to be that way.”
“What was?” Aragorn asked, confused. “What must I take?” Instead of 
answering him directly Gandalf turned his knowing grey eyes upon him.
“How far are you willing to go to save his life?”
“I would die for him.”
“Then what is needed will be no great hardship.” He smiled gently. “Now 
go quickly all of you, there is very little time left.”
Haldir and Elrond swept out, and Aragorn, clutching Legolas tighter 
followed them.

=====================================================

With the three Lords gone Gandalf turned to the young man who had 
remained and answered his questioning look.
“You wish to know what they have gone to do?” He asked solemnly, 
Faramir nodded.
“Then follow me.” Gandalf lead the way out of the Library and into the 
outer hall where he seated himself among furs and the food which had 
been laid in preparation for them, Faramir seated himself besides him.
“The ceremony of which I am to tell you is a very old and sacred elven 
tradition. It had been performed but three times in their history, and then 
only in times of direst need by councils of the most noble of their race. 
They go to attempt it now with but two, though those two are a 
Marchwarden of Lorien and Lord Elrond of Rivendell; and they are aided 
by the heir to the line of men whom the Valdar has blessed, yet I still fear 
for their success.” He paused to break off a piece of bread and spread it 
with butter.
“There can be none more noble than those who remained despite their own 
desires, to aid their friends. If it can be done then they shall do it.” Faramir 
said loyally “Though is there nothing we can do? I have witnessed many 
elven traditions and I would like to be of use.”
Gandalf smiled gently at the young Steward of Gondor.
“I see the true and noble nature of your heart Faramir, yet I feel the nature 
of this ritual would offend even your forgiving sensibilities.” The young 
mans brow creased in a confused frown.
“My sensibilities? Just what is it they are doing?”
Gandalf sighed seeing that he would not escape the telling of the details. 
Slowly he filled two goblets with wine and held one out to Faramir. He 
watched him receive it and take a sip before he began.
“Legolas is but a youth by elven time; when the last ships left for the Halls 
of Manos the Valdars grace left with them. Haldir and Elrond are both 
aged elves and so have enough essential grace of their own, though even 
now the sea calls to them loudly. The Valdars grace burns in Aragorn as 
he is Isildur’s heir; but it has left Legolas for good. Without it his elven 
senses are dulled, he feels cold, he cannot feel the nature of the world as 
he once could; it is akin to being rendered suddenly blind. Yet that is not 
half of the horror, for without the Valdars grace he is truly mortal, and his 
body will not long survive the weight of the world. He is dying.”
“That much I had guessed, though it pained me greatly. But what is it they 
do to save him?”
He was impatient, understanding that Mithrandir tarried over the detail but 
not understanding why.
“They attempt the rite of bonding.” Gandalf said slowly. “Before the new 
day dawns he will be anointed with the light of Erindil, and all three will 
have entered him. Each imparting to him a portion of his grace with his 
release. The last to do so will not so much give as share his life force, 
bonding them forever. This must be Aragorn, as neither elf has enough to 
spare any longer.” He sighed as he set the cup down, prepared for the look 
of distaste and horror he met as he raised his eyes.
“So the noble warrior Prince is to be put to the pleasure of three men like 
some common serving wench. That is violation of the highest order; as 
Steward I cannot allow it within my walls, and I cannot believe your heart 
lets you do so either.”
Gandalf’s hand was immovable as iron upon the impetuous youths arm, 
stilling his move to rise.
“Listen to me Faramir. There will be no rape involved tonight. What 
passes will be as gentle and as trusting as the wash of the tide. It is the gift 
they give that matters, not the manner of its delivery. When it is finished 
Aragorn will have a new bonded, and so it should be as he has loved him 
since the first. I believe the Valdar sends this to test him, and so he shall 
succeed. He will not die.”
The Steward fell silent, suddenly comprehending the wisdom of the action 
even if the method still felt distasteful. Smiling gently he reached out for 
the bread. The night ahead would be long.

=====================================================

The elves briefed him upon what would be required as they climbed the 
stairs to the kings chamber. By the time they were safe behind its barred 
doors and Legolas’ body still upon the bed, he knew all that was to know. 
They stood before him now, visions in their tunics of silver silk.
“You know now what is needed, and what it means for you. If you wish to 
leave you may. Haldir or I will undertake the bonding, for we both love 
him dearly enough for that.”
Aragorn paused, his mouth dry. He looked over at the inert figure upon the 
bed. The beautiful, erethreal elven Prince that he had loved since their first 
moment of meeting, and nodded.
“I know what I do, and I go to it with a willing heart.”
The elves smiled.
“Then let us go to it.”

They crossed to the bed and Haldir bent to remove his tunic and leggings, 
while Elrond took the shining vial from within the folds of his tunic. All 
three paused a moment as he was laid bare to them at last; perfection in 
smooth damask flesh. More beautiful than all the stars combined. Aragorn 
put out a hand to caress his cold cheek, while Elrond unstopped the vial 
and held it out to the Lorien elf. Haldir received it in silence; then 
beginning at Legolas’ feet he held it but inches from his flesh and upended 
it. The light flowed out and across his flesh like water, lending his pale 
skin an air of luminescence. By the time he reached his throat there was 
some stirring in his limbs as the warmth enveloped them; and as he 
brushed the vial across his lips they parted, his eyes flying open, to 
swallow what was left of the light.
For a moment after he was silent, tongue ghosting across his wine 
coloured lips.
“You would attempt the bonding for me?” He whispered at last.
“Without thought.” Haldir answered, putting aside the empty vial.
“Who is to complete it?” He asked softly, his voice barely audible.
Aragorn stepped out of the shadows into the wavering pool of light cast by 
the candles. Their eyes met, a look that spoke of trust, of need, of love. 
They needed no words.
Smiling he reached out a hand to clasp Haldir’s.
“Come then. Take me, for time grows short.”
All three males stripped out of the clothes which separated their flesh from 
Legolas’ sight. Laid bare at last he studied them with desire filled eyes. 
The elves were perfect examples of their kind; pale, flawlessly beautiful, 
strong, powerful warriors. Though Haldir stood both taller and broader 
than his Rivendell kindred, both showed the muscle and flesh of those 
trained for battle. His heart was glad to see them like this, as they should 
be; as all elves loved to exist. Then his eyes turned to Aragorn; the savior 
of men. He whom he had loved since what felt like the dawn of time. It 
was for he that he had tarried here, bound to he who was to be king of 
men. It was for love of him that he was dying now, and through his love of 
that he would be saved. A tear slipped unchecked down his cheek as he 
beheld him, for Aragorn was the most lovely sight he had ever seen. 
Aragorns body too had be sculpted by battle, smooth hard flesh. Though 
where the elves were pale, he was darkened by years in the wild. Against 
their golden dusting of hair he was dark, and thick across both chest and 
limbs. Though both were warriors neither Haldir nor Elrond showed 
marks of battle; elves did not wear scars. Not so the man to whom he gave 
his heart, his body bore the evidence of a life hard lived. Many white lines 
crossing his fine chest and back. As Legolas loved and desired the two 
erethreal creatures of his own kin, he could not contain his anticipation for 
the man who even now moved to sit at his feet. He smiled indulgently as 
Aragorn, realising that he would obstruct proceedings, moved to his side 
and took his hand in his own. The light of Eridil had lent him strength 
enough to combat the terrible emptiness of existence without the Valdars 
grace, at least temporarily, allowing him to enjoy the touch of the three 
males he loved to much. Haldir had also joined them on the bed now, 
kneeling at his feet; he caressed his thigh in one smooth touch, urging 
them apart with gentle insistence. Legolas complied instantly; his flesh 
aflame where he had touched him, looking down he saw the light risen to 
the surface of his skin in a shimmering line. Elrond followed his gaze and 
smiled.
“So the bonding is begun; let none leave until the Valdar blesses all 
again.”
At this indication Haldir lent over Legolas; pressing his lips to his, his hair 
fallen about them in a golden curtain. Legolas received his kiss eagerly; 
parting his lips to allow his tongue inside, sweeping across the roof of his 
mouth, flooding him with the sweet flavour of elf. Haldirs hands caressed 
his chest, palm coaxing his nipples into tight little buds. Legolas in turn 
arched and gasped against the seal of Haldirs lips; luxuriating in the 
sensation of his silken skin pressed so tight against his. He could not 
contain a further moan as a hand slipped between his thighs, slender 
fingers teasing at the entrance to his body. At first he thought it had to 
belong to Haldir; yet his ravaged nerves were still alert enough to know 
that both his were occupied elsewhere; one against his flank, the other 
caught up in his waves of golden tresses. Breaking from his kiss, gasping 
for air, he beheld Elrond in all his elven glory; shinning like the birth of a 
star. It was he that coaxed him to readiness, long, carefully oiled fingers 
pressing deep into his velvet warmth, while the other hand drew 
languorous circles on his inner thigh. Unable to deny the need running like 
wildfire down his nerves, he pressed himself against the gently questing 
fingers. Haldir smiled softly down upon him, brushing his cheek with one 
smooth palm.
“Impatience was one vice I was never able to purge from my half breed 
kindred” He said in amused Quendarin, Legolas saw Elrond frown at the 
back of his friends head.
“We do not have infinite time Haldir, I was simply attending to the task in 
hand.” The Marchwarden turned an indulgent smile upon his Rivendell 
cousin.
“Right lesson, wrong time.” He answered, in Sindarin. Though moved to 
sit besides Legolas, allowing Elrond the right of first to bond. The dark 
hired elf had the decency to look affronted, but the emotion lapsed into a 
gentle smile as Legolas opened his arms to him. He went into them 
gracefully; ever aware of the two others who sat aside, their hands clasped 
in his. Legolas parted his thighs readily to receive him, luxuriating in the 
sensation of smooth elven flesh pressed along the full length of his own. 
Elrond was still a moment, his fingers softly fondling the wave like tresses 
of his hair; the only sound their combined breathing hot and deep in the 
still air. Elrond seemed to have almost forgotten his purpose, so calm and 
quiet was he in his embrace. The half elfs’ eyes searched his, the intensity 
of their blue startling at such close quarters. Then he bent to kiss him, lips 
hot and insistent. His kiss was so different and yet so similar to that of his 
kindred; he tasted as Haldir did of new grass, sunshine and morning 
honey. His tongue explored the confines of his mouth, brushing his own 
with a silky intensity. Elrond broke from him slowly, a notion of their 
combined moisture clinging to his darkened lips. Legolas risked meeting 
his beautifuly intense eyes again; feeling heat spread throughout his body 
at finding them flushed dark with desire. Still Elrond seemed disinclined 
to act, concerned perhaps by the weight of significance riding upon it. 
Haldir’s eyes met Legolas’ briefly; a tacit question. He simply smiled and 
laid a hand upon the shoulder of the slender elf lying against him. Haldir 
accepted his decision without word; pressing his palm against the curve of  
Elronds’ spine.
“Elrond” He whispered; then taking Legolas’ hand again spoke the 
opening words of the bonding rite. At this Elrond began to move, sliding 
slowly down his body until Legolas could feel the head of his hardness 
pressing at the boundary of his body.
“Ready?” He asked him gently in Sindarin, one hand reaching up to stroke 
across his lips.
“Yes” Legolas answered in the common tongue, the final letter lost in a 
desperate gasp as Elrond tried to enter him in one fluid motion. For a 
moment he stilled, waiting for Legolas’ body to adjust to the sensation of 
another attempting to be within it. Then he began to move, sliding evenly 
until he was all but seated and then drawing back as the heavenly warmth 
of the young elf beneath him resisted again. Once, twice he pushed against 
him,; until suddenly he stopped holding himself above him on strong 
warrior arms. Elrond looked down at Legolas, eyes wide with confusion 
and concern. The other two; nervous but fully aware of how precarious the 
nature of the rite was looked on carefully.
“You are as yet untouched?” He asked almost accusingly. Legolas looked 
back at him, his gaze proud and steady.
“I have no reason to be otherwise.” He answered in a breathy whisper.
Elrond looked to the Marchwarden for his next action, Haldir gently but 
firmly urged him off Legolas. Elrond moved to sit between his feet, his 
elfhood hard and glossy with moisture. Haldir looked now to Aragorn, 
who still sat in confused tension on the edge of the bed.
“What's happening?” He asked his old elven friend, his thumb rubbing 
soft circles upon the back of Legolas’ palm.
“Legolas is yet untouched. For anyone other than his bonded mate to fully 
breach him first would be incur a soul dept too heavy to bare. It must be 
you old friend who both begins and ends this. Do you feel yourself able?” 
Aragorn knew what he was asking, and something deep in his body 
whispered its doubt at the notion of spilling twice in one night. Yet as he 
looked upon Legolas’ heavenly frame he felt his manhood throb hard 
against his abdomen, and knew that for the slender elf his desire would not 
be spent until his bones came unstrung and he bled seed.
“I do” he answered gravely, his voice conveying all the commitment that 
would ever be needed. Haldir smiled gently at him, and moved aside to 
allow Aragorn all the space on the bed. As the reluctant king arched across 
he who would be his bonded, the two elves exchanged glances above him. 
Almost as one creature they moved away, drawing the curtains about the 
bed; Aragorn heard them move away to stand at the window looking out 
West. He suddenly felt a surge of grateful love towards his two friends; 
the bonding only required them to be near at hand, they were leaving him 
to claim his mate in as much privacy as they could. Legolas was hot 
beneath him, the light of Erindil had lent him fire which burned beneath 
his skin. Yet Aragorn felt the tension in him, he was arched as tight as a 
the string of his bow; his body vibrating with it. The man reached out and 
stroked his flank lightly with the back of his fingers and felt the shudder 
beneath his touch.
“Meleth?” He whispered, searching his loves face for a clue as to what he 
felt. “Love?” He caught Legolas’ chin ever so gently in the palm of his 
hand, and bent to place a single chaste kiss on his quivering lips.
“Yes” Legolas answered, his voice barely audible.
“I love you.”
“I know.” He replied, a sudden strength in his tone; as if the conviction he 
felt for this was the only thing he had to believe in.
“Are you ready?” Aragorn had moved slowly so as not to startle him, so 
heightened were his senses. Now he lay between his beautifully spread 
thighs, stroking his hand up their smooth firm length. With almost 
agonising slowness he bent to kiss him again; less chaste this time. Their 
lips touched and Legolas claimed him hungrily, opening beneath him, so 
that he could touch the satin sweetness of his tongue with his own. The 
kiss seemed to fill all moments and none; the first between them felt as 
though all time had been poised waiting upon this action. Touching him 
Aragorn felt his soul slip, entwine, bond with Legolas’. When they finally 
parted, the elfs sweetness still upon him he knew he could never be truly 
whole again.
He looked down at him, his sky blue eyes bright in the darkness; Legolas 
smiled.
Aragorn could not help but gasp, his eyes closing of their own accord 
when the elfs slender fingers tentatively touched his aching manhood.
“No Meleth.” He said suddenly, moving to be out of the elfs agonisingly 
arousing touch.
“No?” Legolas asked in a voice so unsure it barely seemed his own.
“We have so little time tonight Legolas, I fear if you touch me much more 
then I should be undone. That I could not bare, not if it meant loosing you 
for all time after.”
“Then do what must be done now, there will be more nights.”
“I’m sorry my sweet Prince.” Aragorn sighed, caressing a strand of hair 
from across his cheek.
“I am not; for nothing that has you in my arms could be evil.” Aragorn 
laughed then for the sheer joy of it, and his elf laughed with him; a sound 
so like ice in a glass. Legolas’ hand met his, clasped it, held it tight. The 
elf arched up gracefully to kiss him once more upon the lips, a sweet 
promise of what lay ahead; then relaxed under him again, infinitely 
patient, wordlessly trusting.
Aragorn positioned the head of his desperate manhood at the sweetly 
untouched entrance of his bonded' body. He looked down into the face of 
his gently innocent elf, their eyes meeting, touching; and clasped the 
slender hand in his own still tighter.
“This will hurt my beautiful leaf, but I will make it as easy as I can.” He 
whispered in the native Sindarin of both their child hoods.
“I trust you.” Came the answer, nothing but love visible in Legolas’ 
unspeakably blue eyes.
Just as the final word fell from the divine lips of the creature he loved, 
Aragorn pushed against and into him, trying not to heed the incredibly 
tight velvet warmth of his body. Beyond the curtain the two older elves 
heard the pained gasp as Aragorn entered him, but also the hectic 
breathing and soothing sounds that escaped the body of the king of men. 
Haldir looked away from the darkened sky to the elf besides him and 
found him smiling. He returned the look, conscious of the need he saw 
burning in the half elfs clear blue eyes. Slowly he slipped an arm about 
Elronds firm waist, and felt the Lord of Rivendell relax into him. Elronds 
nut brown hair felt like silk against the bare skin of his shoulder, smooth, 
cool, inviting. Haldirs gaze wandered down to where the other elfs 
manhood strained up pale and glistening with the oil he’d used to prepare. 
Wordlessly he slid to his knees in one fluid motion; dragging his fingertips 
down Elronds flank, feeling him shudder. His Rivendell kindred looked 
down at  him, a mixture of confusion and desire wrought upon his serene 
face.
“Would you have comfort for us tonight also?” He asked carefully in 
perfect high Quendarin.
“It has been a long time my friend.” Haldir answered in amused Sindarin, 
teasing his kindred for his use of the higher elvish language.
“You would have us share our grace?” He asked softly, teasing the pale 
silken strands of Haldirs hair between his fingers. The Marchwarden leant 
his cheek against the hollow of his hip; as he spoke Elrond felt the words 
ghost against him manhood, sparking his nerves.
“I would. We tarry here for love of this new age of men, but I know the 
sea calls to you as loud as it does to me. I am so tired Elrond, lend me 
some strength.” The older elf bent to lay a kiss upon the golden head of 
the being kneeling against him, smiling indulgently as Haldir sighed.
“As you wish dear friend; what grace is left us let it flow freely tonight. 
For I have need of your strength also.”
With that he cradled Haldirs delicate skull between his hands as the blond 
elf slid his manhood deep into his throat in one smooth movement. He 
could not help but moan and arch into the delicious cavernous heat of 
Haldirs perfect mouth, twisting his fingers into his long fair tresses. Haldir 
smiled against him and slid his lips agonisingly slowly up and down his 
kindred cock; slicking it with moisture, circling the tender head with his 
tongue. In what was an agonising lifetime, and yet moments Elrond half 
swooned against his lover, spilling hot and sweet, deep into Haldirs throat. 
The Lorien elf smiled contentedly. Licking his lips; and placing a gentle 
kiss upon Elronds exhausted manhood, before receiving the contentedly 
sated Lord into his arms.
Upon the bed the two lovers were still a moment; Legolas still and 
panting, Aragorn sheathed within him, waiting for the impossible tightness 
to yield. After what felt like years to the man, he felt the cool palm of 
Legolas’ hand pressed against his chest. He searched the elfs eyes for 
signs of pain, of uncertainty. He found none, only want; expressed as his 
beautiful lover nodded for him to continue. Bending his head, chestnut 
hair falling about his face; Aragorn pressed their lips together just as he 
buried himself deep in the sweet heat of Legolas’ body. They rocked 
together; joined both at lips and groin, breathing what hot air could be 
drawn from the space between their mouths. Slowly Aragorn drew back; 
relishing the exquisite tightness of his lovers channel until he was all but 
unseated, then he thrust home again, Legolas arching to meet him with 
ecstatic little cries. They moved and touched, entwining and kissing, 
rocking and crying. There were tears of the elfs face and Aragorn bathed 
them away with his tongue; he could hear his lover whispering, a constant 
stream of endearments and nonsense. He answered him as best he could, 
part in the common tongue and part in Sindarin, giving him all he could 
before his breath gave way beneath his desire. The elfs manhood was hard 
and weeping against the taught muscle of his abdomen; and he clasped it 
firmly in his sword calloused hand. Legolas gasped and bucked against 
him as he began to stroke him in time with his own rhythmic thrusts. The 
heat was building at the base of his spine, blossoming, spreading out until 
all at once it exploded; flooding him with fire and causing him to spill 
hard into the sweet body rocked beneath him. Seeing the man he loved 
washed away upon the tide of release Legolas let it take him too, digging 
his slender fingers into Aragorns back, pulling him close, as his own seed 
flowed hot between their clasped bodies. He lay gasping and content 
beneath the weight of his human love; feeling the beginnings of the 
Valdars grace creeping back into his empty heart. 
He touched Aragorns face gently with the back of his fingers, coaxing him 
back to reality by means of his ravaged nerves.
The sated king  looked up to find three erethreal beings looking down 
upon him with amused affection.
“I had forgotten how much release takes from men.” Haldir smiled, gently 
urging him from his place between the youngest Elfs thighs. He was not 
happy to go. Though he knew and trusted the sanctity of the bonding rite, 
he was not so willing to see his bonded claimed by another.
“I am sorry Aragorn.” Haldir placated softly. “But it is the nature of the 
right.” He nodded his assent, though his features showed him less than 
happy. Rising shakily from the bed he pushed the curtains aside.
“Aragorn?” The voice of his love cut through his jealousy like a knife. He 
turned back to look into the face of his beloved, at the sight of that 
startlingly beautiful, tenderly vulnerable face his own look softened.
“Yes?”
“Don’t leave.” He sat down upon the edge of the counterpane again, and 
clasped the hand of the ailing elf in his own.
“I won’t lovely leaf, I won’t.”
Legolas barely gasped as Haldir entered him, sliding in to the hilt in one 
smooth movement. The Marchwarden was less gentle than the reluctant 
king in his love making. He supported his weight upon his sword arm, 
while the other wandered Legolas’ flesh with a touch just short of rough. 
Though for his strength and certitude, he was keenly aware of the fragile 
elf beneath him. With insistent hands he urged the long archers legs about 
his own shoulders, leaning in to swallow the ecstatic moan this produced 
with a hungry kiss. Legolas surged against the body of his former tutor, 
practically clawing at him; while Haldir thrust against him again and 
again, rocking the bed with the rhythm of his movements. 
Aragorn was lost. He had thought that to watch his beloved spread beneath 
another would be torture, yet as he watched he found himself inflamed 
beyond the very limits of his imagination. Almost without thought his 
fingers reached out to clasp his lovers shaft again, sliding his palm along 
its now familiar length; spreading the shinning droplets that appeared at its 
beautiful tip. Haldir looked up at him, his face glowing beneath its sheen 
of desire, and smiled. He arched his back, pushing himself up further upon 
his arms, and so deeper into Legolas’ yielding body. Aragorn took the 
proffered opportunity gratefully, propping himself up upon an elbow so as 
to lean in and kiss his desire crazed lover. Legolas met him thirstily; 
cleaving to his lips, probing his tongue until Aragorn would have sworn he 
could taste the yearning his bonded felt. Spurred on by the wonderment of 
this his palm moved still faster upon Legolas’ aching flesh; gasping 
himself when he felt the elf spill hot and hard upon his hand. Haldir; 
caught in the incredible rhythmic contraction of the body beneath him, 
cried out once as he came deep into Legolas’ burning flesh. Aragorn 
moved carefully aside to allow Haldir to fall sated upon the body of the 
smaller elf. He watched smiling and idly licking his fingers clean, as 
Legolas soothed the older elfs hectic breathing with cool fingers; 
whispering soft Sindarin that only Haldir could hear. He heard Haldir 
reply, though the words were almost wholly Quendarin and so beyond his 
understanding. Yet it mattered little; he could see the colour washing back 
into his loves ashen cheeks, and that made his heart lighter than any words 
ever could. 
Haldir had moved now; ushering Elrond into his place with a hand upon 
the Rivendell elfs back. Elrond caressed the smooth thigh of his friends 
youngest son, drawing back concerned as he saw the discomfort in 
Legolas’ eyes.
“Legolas?” He asked, worried that the young elf would not be able to 
stand any further touches. Yet he had underestimated the resilience of the 
youngest Prince of Mirkwood. Legolas met his gaze steadily and smiled.
“Is there no other way of doing this my Lord Elrond? For the muscles of 
my thighs begin to protest my misuse of them.” Elrond laughed gently and 
put out a hand to pull the blonde elf into his arms.
“Very well Prince Greenleaf, we shall do this another way.” He knelt back 
to watch as the young warrior as, under instruction, he moved to kneel 
upon all fours upon the bedcovers. His heart was glad that he had gained 
strength enough already to move with such ease. He allowed his eyes to 
sweep hungrily across the graceful muscle and smooth skin of Tharanduils 
beloved son. Then his fingers to caress the divine curve of a taught 
buttock. He looked up suddenly at the sensation of a gaze upon him, to see 
his adopted son watching him with wary eyes.
“Forgive me my Lord, but the dawn grows close and the right must be 
completed. There is little time for languid affection.”
Elrond nodded his understanding, draping his entire length over Legolas’ 
back; brushing back the lengths of blonde hair to kiss the nape of his neck. 
He felt the young elf shudder and delayed no further, pressing himself 
home with one easy stroke. He gasped as the velvet channel claimed him 
so completely; in that moment he almost envied Aragorn the right to this 
sensation from this night on, but only for a moment. Deep in his heart he 
was darkly glad that is was Tharanduils heir and not his own who went to 
the bed of the king of men. He became aware then of a touch upon his 
cheek, and looked up to meet Haldirs stern, ice blue eyes. The 
Marchwarden had caught his thoughts, and he didn’t approve. Elrond 
acknowledged the guilt; and let it pass. He would make amends for such 
notions some other time, now the sweet body beneath him cried out for his 
attention. He gave it fully.
Aragorn watched with weary eyes as his adopted father rocked his bonded 
to completion. He had never thought of Elrond in such a position before, 
and he found himself unable to decide whether his arousal at the Lord of 
Rivendells flesh was wrong. Instead he concentrated upon the love he felt 
fill the room. It swept about him, carrying him to another shuddering, 
untouched completion; as Legolas once more spilled himself into another 
strong hand. Elrond withdrew almost immediately, collapsing sated 
against Haldirs chest where the other elf sat still behind him.
Not once throughout had Legolas’ gaze left Aragorns face, and now he 
reached out for him with a trembling hand. The man gathered the slender 
body against him; cradling the exhausted body, soothing with soft words. 
His loves beautiful blonde locks were plastered against his high forehead 
with the heat of his body, and his breathing far from steady. Even as he 
watched Legolas’ deep blue eyes threatened to flutter closed with sleep. 
He was torn now; knowing what remained to be done, but so unwilling to 
do it. To cause discomfort or pain to he whom he must love to live. 
Desperately he looked to his elders, pleading clear upon his features, 
willing their wisdom to offer him an alternative. But there was none 
forthcoming; they met his gaze with a clear steady look, what compassion 
they had evident in the softness of their smiles.
“It must be done Estel.” Elrond said slowly, apparently oblivious to 
Haldirs fingers against his chest. “Like all unwelcome tasks, the best way 
out is always through.”
“But he is so tired, and I fear I should hurt him if I take him again.” He 
looked down at Legolas who had drifted into an fitful slumber in the 
cradle of his arms.
“Better that than to never touch him again.” Haldir offered simply, He 
looked down at the sleeping elf; and reached out to brush his cheek lightly. 
Aragorn watched the gesture with bated breath. Haldir smiled again, 
fixedly, and looked up at the worried man.
“Besides I think you underestimate the strength of my former pupil. 
Legolas was always a remarkable elf, perhaps you have yet to understand 
how remarkable.”
Aragorn opened his mouth to protest, but thinking better of it closed it 
again. At the shift in his lovers body Legolas woke, his eyes startling in 
their suddenly revealed blueness. Aragorn tried his best to smile at him, 
but the tension he felt was clearly visible. To his surprise instead of the 
mirrored unease he expected to find upon his lovers face, Legolas laughed. 
Aragorn couldn’t ever remember having heard so sweet a sound.
“Why to do you tarry my Estel?” He asked softly, voice like soft breeze 
through spring grass. “Though I have greatly enjoyed the attention of 
others, my heart cries out for you. Would you not give me what I desire?”
There was complete silence as Aragorn regarded the creature in his arms 
with wonderment, knowing full well that it would not be the last time 
Legolas would awe him so.
“Always.” He answered finally, though his voice was so husky he barely 
recognised it as his own. And then he was lost as the beautiful elf kissed 
him again; surging against him with a hunger he hoped never to satisfy 
fully.
=====================================================
Knowing their task was done; and that the bonding to follow was not for 
intruding eyes, the two elder elves slipped beyond the curtain. The lovers 
entwined on the bed did not see them go.
Beyond the confines of the bed Haldir took Elronds hand in his own, and 
together they walked across to look upon the coming day. The sky was 
purple with the light of the dawn as the blonde laid his head on the darker 
ones shoulder. Elrond looked down at him thoughtfully.
“What of us now Haldir?” He asked slowly, pausing to hear a gasp reach 
their ears from behind the drawn bed curtains.
“Of us?”
“Legolas has Estel, but is it not time we sailed? What have we to keep us 
here?” He was quiet then, feeling his friend breathe against his shoulder.
“We have each other. We have loved each other for a long enough time. If 
you wish it Elrond, I would gladly bond to you.”
“You would?”
“With a joyful heart.” Haldir answered, planting a soft kiss on his friends 
collarbone.
“Then I wish it.” Elrond breathed, clasping the blondes hand tighter in his 
own.
They stood that way; unmoving, until the day was truly new, and the soft 
grey light of dawn caressed their naked flesh.
Behind them, upon the bed; the sounds of release gave way to those of 
satisfied sleep. 
=====================================================
Gandalf was roused from his own uneasy slumber by the light of the new 
day. For a moment he closed his eyes, apparently listening to something 
just beyond hearing. Slowly he opened them again, and smiled. Leaning 
across he shook the young steward into wakefulness.
“Is it over?” He asked anxiously searching the old wizards face, Gandalf 
smiled again.
“Yes” he answered simply.
“And?”
“And today is a new day.”
=====================================================

TBC....
Watch this space.....