Title: In the Dark Places (1/?) Author: Glorfindel's ghost Email: mrsdoyle70181@aol.com Rating: NC-17 Pairing: hmmm...just Aragorn/Legolas for this chapter but might do some more in the next one. Disclaimer: not mine, Tolkien's- but would he want them back now? Feedback: Yes please, or I'll get disheartened and start writing Hornblower slash instead. Summary: Tempers run high in the claustrophobic atmosphere of Moria, Gandalf ponders and Legolas drops a bombshell that opens up painful wounds (some coercive sex). Gandalf despaired of them. The thought of being trapped in the oppressive darkness of Moria with possibly the most dysfunctional group of people in the whole of middle earth had been most terrifying but Frodo, damn him, had wanted to go through Moria, and what Frodo wanted Frodo got. Now that they had stopped for the night the ceasing of their own footfalls had left all around them silent. Somewhere close by a hobbit stomach grumbled. Boromir sighed in response. Gandalf's gaze rested on him. He detected in Boromir an inner conflict that from time to time would cause the man's features to twist into a grotesque mask when he let his eyes look upon Frodo for too long. For the time being they had nothing to fear, for Gandalf recognised that the man's conscience was winning but should his looks darken any further action would have to be taken, although just what action Gandalf hadn't quite decided yet. No, for the time there were more pressing matters. His gaze shifted to Legolas who was sitting, idly twirling an arrow between his fingers. He was either blissfully unaware of, or just studiously ignoring the dark looks that both Aragorn and Gimli were giving him. Gandalf suspected it was the latter. He understood Gimli's anger for, since entering the mines, Legolas had missed no opportunity to insult Dwarven mining, Dwarven culture, and indeed just Dwarves in general. For a being of middle earth's supposedly fairest and noblest race Legolas could be very spiteful when he wanted to be. But then the youngest son of Thranduil was known to be...hmm...well difficult if you were being polite, a horrible little bugger if you weren't. Elves on the whole didn't tend to be rebellious- it just wasn't done, particularly if you were royal but Legolas seemed to pride himself on being the exception to the rule- promiscuous, disobedient, in fact, downright dangerous. "I am just grateful that he is not my heir", Thranduil had confided in him, "for it would break my heart to see the Mirkwood realm torn apart." 'Horrible little bugger' no longer seemed a title that could feasibly be applied to Legolas, for despite his petulant air the elf had grown into a majestically beautiful man, a far cry from the scrawny, ungainly teenager he had once been. Lord Elrond had chosen Legolas for this quest in the hope that he might bring pride upon his father rather than shame for once. "Also", Elrond had added, "there's the possibility he might get eaten by a dragon and stop causing trouble". Hmm...maybe elves were crueller than he thought. The reason for Aragorn's dislike of the elf he did not know. A Pandora's box of emotions drifted behind the Ranger's dark eyes that concerned Gandalf greatly, for in all the time he had known him Aragorn had been unreadable where his feelings were concerned. Now he wore them on his sleeve and Gandalf feared that such a change spelt trouble. Gandalf had thought hard about what could have occurred to cause this rift but could only recall a seemingly happy time when Legolas had been sent to stay in Rivendell whilst Aragorn was in the foster care of Elrond. Eventually, Elrond had sent Legolas home, declaring that "humans are weak enough already without his influence to lead them further astray". For his part Legolas was contradictory in his behaviour towards Aragorn, sometimes cold and sarcastic, yet at other times almost peevishly polite. Gandalf shook his head for he was at a loss. There was one nagging possibility that disturbed him greatly-perhaps he was misinterpreting the Ranger's looks as hateful when they were in fact in full of lust. Considering the elf's reputation and the close friendship the two had once shared such a thing was a distinct possibility. Gandalf himself would not bat an eye at such a relationship but he feared that should they be successful in their quest and Aragorn take up his rightful place as king of Gondor, the people of Minas Tirith would not be so tolerant. Kings were allowed, perhaps even expected to keep lovers, but they were certainly not expected to consort with male elves. He smiled grimly to himself- no wonder Aragorn had shied away from being king for so long! Yet perhaps it was Aragorn's own narrow-mindedness that caused his upset, after all he was but a man. In Gandalf's long years he had witnessed many a man drive himself to distraction with disgust at his own desires. Why was it men valued their masculinity above far more important attributes? They were similarly narrow minded in the Shire he recalled, mores the pity. The hobbits were huddled together for warmth, just four heads- two dark, two sandy- under a mound of blankets. Frodo slept fitfully, his head resting on Sam's shoulder, sometimes muttering unintelligibly. Gandalf detected the movement beneath the blanket as Sam grasped Frodo's hand beneath the blanket. Frodo's eyelids flickered but he did not wake and he ceased his muttering. They perplexed him, did Frodo and Sam. The bond of love between them was unmistakable, yet Gandalf could not fathom as to whether it was anything more than fraternal, perhaps even paternal love or whether Frodo's passion for his gardener represented something else entirely. He chuckled in spite of himself-that could explain why all the tools in the shed at Bag end looked unused. For Frodo to engage in a relationship would cause quite a stir back in the shire- Bilbo's adventures were one thing but a single sex relationship was another entirely. Perhaps even more shocking for the surprisingly snobbish hobbits would be how far Frodo was lowering himself, cavorting with the home help being seen as a disgraceful thing. However these things paled in comparison to the seemingly insurmountable problems facing Merry and Pippin. Right now the two were sitting, heads inclined together, talking quietly. "Merry, I'm so hungry I fear that I shall waste away to nothing", groaned Pippin. Merry smiled in response to his friend's melodrama. "You can have half my breakfast Pip", he offered. Pippin beamed and then satisfied, rested his head on Merry's shoulder and closed his eyes. Presently, his breathing became deep and regular, the mark of a sleeper. Gandalf was quite stunned, for, in all the time he had associated with hobbits, he had never once known one offer his own food to another. For Merry to offer Pippin half his meagre breakfast was a tremendously generous act. Merry glanced up and around guiltily, then rested his head gently on top of Pippin's and aimed towards sleep. Theirs really was a love that must be kept secret, Gandalf knew, for incest could lead to the pair of them being completely ostracised from society in the shire. Despite the seemingly frequent inbreeding in the shire sleeping with your cousin, particularly your male cousin, was understandably frowned on. Eventually, exhausted from his musings, Gandalf fell into a deep sleep. It was the next evening. The company sat in contemplation, glad to be off their feet. "Legolas", a small voice came out of the semi darkness, "will you sing us a song please?" Legolas smiled "I would like nothing more than to oblige Peregrin but I fear that singing might alert unwanted beings to our presence here...and , of course, the walls of Moria may crumble and fall if they are forced to reverberate with the sounds of elven singing" "Right", Gimli snapped, "that's it- I'm going to cut your head off with my axe, I can't take anymore". Infuriatingly, the elf laughed. "Now really Master dwarf, I fear that would not go down at all well with Lord Elrond!" Aragorn stiffened, "and what makes you think you curry favour with Lord Elrond?" he demanded of the elf furiously. "Now, now Elessar", the elf purred teasingly "he is yours if you want him" Aragorn flushed "Do not speak of such things!" Legolas looked at him pityingly "Tell me, why do you deny yourself Aragorn?" Aragorn glared at him venomously "Just because you spend your time prostituting yourself to any that are interested do not tar me with the same brush!" he spat in return. Legolas merely smiled indulgently. "Aragorn", he spoke slowly as if the ranger were somewhat mentally incompetent, "I am an elf, I do not seek out physical pleasure, I just try to please others". Aragorn snorted derisively "Like you have done one selfless thing in your life Legolas! You act only for yourself!" The elf took offence at this barb. He leaned forward, his eyes narrowed. "Oh I don't know Aragorn", he said icily "I pleased you didn't I?". To Legolas's credit he realised this to be a mistake as soon as the words had left his mouth but his injured pride prevented him from apologising. The ranger had flushed again, a deep blush that spread up his neck right to the tips of his ears. The rest of the company sat silently, too astonished to do much else. Legolas made a valiant attempt to ease the moment: "At least now you have no excuse for facing up to the truth" "The truth?" Aragorn laughed bitterly "do you really seek to appease me now that you have embarrassed me beyond belief? For sure Legolas you seem to lack such qualities as tact, kindness and compassion- you are very cruel" "Would you say that you are a kind and compassionate man Aragorn? I recall it very differently" Aragorn gave him a pleading look as he sensed what the elf was about to reveal. "Do you know why I recall it differently? No?", Legolas continued "It is because my mind is not clouded by shame or doubt". A single tear rolled down Aragorn's cheek "I wish I had that luxury", he said in a voice little more than a whisper. Mirkwood, the previous year: Aragorn's search for Gollum had led him deep into Mirkwood. Here the trail frequently faltered, for the creature was clever and devious. He was tracking one day, stealthily moving through the forest, when he suddenly found himself staring at the end of a strung arrow, held by someone very familiar. The elf spoke: "You have entered the realm of Thranduil. Speak stranger or face the consequences" Yes, it was definitely him- the tall, slender frame; the long golden hair that trailed down his back like cornsilk: and that fair elven face, surrounding the intense green eyes that veered between emerald and lime in hue. Today though, they were of the same tone as the leaves around him. "Legolas?" Aragorn asked hopefully. The elf peered at him suspiciously. Aragorn smiled. "It is I, Aragorn" Legolas's eyes widened and he broke into a smile of unadulterated joy, before hugging the ranger spontaneously. Aragorn hugged back, surprised, but not entirely displeased to be in Legolas's arms. Finally, the elf stepped back and held him at arm's length. "My", he said admiringly "you have become a man in my absence" Aragorn blushed profusely and the elf smiled knowingly in response. For some time to come Aragorn would put what he did next down to sheer curiosity- he kissed Legolas, quite roughly. The elf froze, stunned by the audacity of the man, then gently attempted to prise Aragorn off him. Legolas was well aware of the effect he had on others, knew that he was a destructive force. He had no wish to destroy Aragorn, a man doomed to live a mortal life, by making his few short years full of remorse and self loathing. To his astonishment Aragorn grew bolder, his tongue forcing its way between the elf's lips. Simultaneously, a hand moved to his crotch and began to touch him through the fabric of his leggings. Legolas felt an involuntary rush of blood and inwardly cursed himself. Without warning he found himself being forced to the ground, the leaves on the forest floor crackling under the combined weight of himself and Aragorn, who now had him in a rather precarious position. Legolas, now pinned to the ground, felt the hardness of Aragorn's groin as he rubbed against him. He fought against him, shoving Aragorn hard in the chest with all the strength he could muster. He hadn't reckoned on Aragorn being stronger. The ranger placed a weathered hand on Legolas's cheek. "I need this", he hissed "please don't deny me" Whilst Legolas desperately tried to comprehend what was going on Aragorn pulled down his leggings, and then did the same with his own. The elf looked at him in alarm, wondering what had happened to they shy, introspective teenager he had known and adored. Then a knee was forced between his legs and before he could protest Aragorn entered him brutally hard. Legolas yelped and Aragorn slapped a hand over his mouth. He withdrew a little and then thrust again, at the same time grasping the shaft of Legolas's penis in his hand. Legolas moaned through Aragorn's hand as the man started to stroke him in time to the rhythm of his thrusts. Legolas wavered on the pleasure/pain barrier for quite some time, until his penis swelled in Aragorn's hand and he came violently, shaking and utttering muffled elvish curse words. Aragorn came a minute later with a final intrusive thrust, convulsing as he released in hot spurts. He lay there for a moment, so close that Legolas could feel his heart pounding in his chest. Then he abruptly pulled out and stood hastily, yanking his leggings back up with his clean hand. Aragorn knelt and wiped his sticky hand on the forest floor, a look of distaste on his face, before rising and walking away, without a backward glance.