Title: Ohtarnil: A Warrior Love

Author: Elfscribe (elfscribe5@yahoo.com)

Pairing: Legolas/Aragorn and Legolas/others

Rating: NC-17 
Summary: In the woods of Lothlorien, Aragorn and Legolas become 
attracted to one another. But Aragorn cannot betray Arwen and Legolas still 
mourns the loss of a previous lover. Can they find love with each other? 

Disclaimer: This is a work of fan fiction. The characters, settings, 
and languages used in this work are the property of the Tolkien Estate, 
Tolkien Enterprises, and possibly New Line Cinema, except for certain 
original characters who belong to this author. The author will not 
receive any money or other remuneration for this work. The work is the 
intellectual property of the author. 
Archive: yes. Other sites, please ask permission. 
Feedback appreciated. 
Warning: For you slash purists, there is some het fic. Just keep 
reading.

Many thanks to Caz for beta reading. 


Ohtarnil: A Warrior Love
Chapter 1 - The Springs of Evinyatar 


The concerns of leadership weighed heavily on Aragorn. Two days 
earlier, he had stood before Lady Galadriel, with the rest of the Fellowship, 
and revealed tidings of the disastrous trip through Moria, and the loss 
of Gandalf the Grey. His exhaustion and grief had been so great that he 
had slept heavily throughout the next day. Now, tired as he still was, 
he found it hard to sleep. He passed through the pavilion where the 
Fellowship was housed. The hobbits, Boromir, and Gimli were rolled up in 
their blankets, snoring or talking softly. But the elf was missing.

"Where is Legolas?" Aragorn asked Frodo. 

"I think he went to the hot springs to bathe, " Frodo said. "We were 
there earlier, Aragorn. It was quite healing. The bruises from that spear 
thrust are mostly gone." He sat up and opened his shirt. He unclasped 
the chain that held the ring, and held it tightly in his hand, while 
Aragorn sat down next to him and examined his chest and back with gentle 
fingers. 

"Sure enough," he said. "Yes, I remember the springs of Envinyatar. " 
He rotated his sword arm. "Perhaps I should go. My shoulder has been 
sore and stiff all day." 

"Go on, Aragorn, and stop fussing over us. We are safe here; as safe as 
we are anywhere." Frodo yawned and bent his head to put the ring back 
on. He smiled up at Aragorn, although his eyes looked sorrowful. Aragorn 
ruffled his curly hair. 

Frodo said, "I can't stop thinking, Aragorn, about what, what has 
happened and what still lies before us." 

"Yes, you and me both," said Aragorn. "But there is time enough for 
that. For now, you need to rest. I'll look in on you later." He kissed 
Frodo's forehead and stood up. 

"Aragorn, if you don't go to the springs and take care of yourself this 
evening, I shall be much annoyed," Frodo said. He lay down and closed 
his eyes. 

"I promise," Aragorn smiled. He stood up and headed down the path away 
from the pavilion. The blue velvet night sky was awash with stars. A 
soft warm breeze brushed by his cheek. Here and there along the path, a 
sculptured stone figure held an oil flame in cupped hands, creating just 
enough light to see the route that wound through the immense and 
ancient mellorn trees. If he stopped and listened hard enough, he could hear 
the whispered speech of the living things around him. Truly a magical 
place, Aragorn thought. The place where my heart is, but she whom I long 
for no longer resides here. She is now at Imladris, far to the north. 
Arwen, I am not sure I am strong enough to bear all these burdens. My 
heart is heavy. And I wonder if I shall ever see you again.

How well he remembered the springs! A summer night, thirty-eight years 
ago, he had gone late in the evening to bathe in the springs and come 
upon a half dozen elf maidens already in the water, including the Lady 
Arwen. A more enchanting sight he had never seen. The slim forms, white 
limbs, lovely breasts of different shapes and sizes, long wet hair. 
Arwen was standing, her long black hair hanging like a curtain down her 
back, high, rounded breasts with rosy nipples, a silky tuft of dark hair 
between her legs. Upon seeing him standing there staring, the other 
women made a rush to cover her. But she had smiled, and looked at him 
steadily, and without fear. That image, and others of her lovely face in 
the moonlight, the feel of her back, the sweet taste of her mouth, had 
sustained him on many a dangerous venture. He held the memories like a 
locket that he could open and look at occasionally, then put back with a 
sigh. But they were also hard memories, for he had so desperately 
wanted to possess her, to feel her naked body under his. This pleasure was 
denied until she could become his queen, a dream of future delight, that 
as far as he could see this night, might never be fulfilled. 

Since he had first seen her at Imladris and fallen in love, he had not 
lain with another. Instead, he had become stern, disciplined, grim. It 
was difficult, as he was a man with strong physical needs. In the past, 
when it had become too much, he had vanished into the wilderness in his 
solitary pursuit of the servants of the Dark Lord. 

He passed through a stone arch, carved as if covered in thick vines. 
Beyond he saw a sight that, just as that night when he chanced on Arwen, 
caused him to pause and inhale sharply. The trees leaned over a wide, 
quiet pool. Occasionally a wisp of steam curled up from the black 
surface. At the end closest to him, the water poured over a stone lip and 
gurgled away toward the river. The far end had three flickering torches 
set into stone sculptures. They cast a golden glow on two figures. 

Legolas sat chest deep in the water. He leaned back against rocks that 
had been elaborately carved into seats. An elf maiden sat on the rock 
behind him, her pale bare legs straddling his shoulders as she carefully 
unbraided his long yellow hair. Most of it was undone already and 
cascaded over his shoulders, long strands rippling where the braids had 
kinked it. The ends that touched the surface of the water fanned out like 
gossamer threads. His chest and arms were slender but well muscled. He 
wore a gold band on his upper left arm. His head was tilted back against 
the woman's lap. His face was beautiful: high cheek bones, knife-sharp 
jaw line, and straight, dark brows. A smile quirked one side of his 
lips as he murmured something to her. She splashed him with water. He 
turned his head and gently bit the inside of her knee. 

The elf woman was quite as beautiful as Legolas. She wore a thin, white 
garment that clung to her form and shimmered as she moved. The dress 
had ridden up, revealing her bare legs. Her reddish gold hair was plaited 
in one long braid that hung down her back. 

Aragorn stepped back hurriedly, thinking he should leave. He felt a 
prickling in his loins like dozens of tiny shocks. Then Legolas's glance 
leapt across the distance to fasten on his. 

Aragorn," he called in his melodious tenor voice, "are you going to 
skulk forever in the shadows or are you going to come join us?" 

Somewhat sheepishly, he came forward into the torchlight. "You seem . . 
. occupied, Legolas. Maybe I should come back later." The elf woman 
smiled at him. 

"Nonsense, Aragorn," said Legolas. "We will all be grateful if you have 
a good soak." He grinned. "By the Valar, you still smell like orc 
blood." 

Aragorn hesitated. Then stepping carefully on the slender path around 
the pool, came forward and sat on a stone seat near the elves. 

"Aragorn, this is Melindi, daughter of Orophin," said Legolas. "She is 
wonderful at working the kinks out of your arms and back." The elf 
woman nodded shyly at Aragorn. Legolas swam away from her, dived under the 
water like an otter. He came up, water streaming off his face and hair, 
and returned to his seat. Melindi poured a silver liquid from a flask 
into her hand and began gently massaging Legolas's hair. The liquid 
smelled like elanor flowers, a fresh honey scent. Legolas leaned back 
against her lap and closed his eyes. 

"Hurry up and get in Aragorn," he said. 

"I think I'll wait until you are finished," Aragorn said. 

"Melindi has seen naked men before. You have no need for modesty." 


Melindi picked up a silver ewer and poured water over Legolas's head. 
"We shouldn't make our guest uncomfortable, Legolas," she said. "I 
should go." 

Legolas turned, reached up and grabbed her hand. "You can't leave," he 
said. 

She laughed in answer and attempted to stand. Legolas kissed the back 
of her hand and then her finger tips. She stood and walked away. 

"Will I see you later?" Legolas called. 

"Perhaps," she called. "You know where my talan is." Then she was gone. 

"I hope you're happy you chased her off," Legolas grinned at Aragorn. 
"She could have worked her magic on you as well." 

"You know my situation, Legolas," he said. 

"Yes, and I understand it," Legolas replied. Aragorn unbuckled Andúril 
and set it against a tree. Then he undressed, piling his clothes in a 
heap. He slid into the water and hissed sharply through his teeth as the 
heat enveloped him. He leaned against the bank and sighed. 

"Nice equipment," commented the elf. 

"Huh?" Aragorn looked at him. 

"Andúril, I mean," said Legolas, a smile on his perfect lips.

"I'm sure that's what you meant," said Aragorn. "I'm glad you're able 
to find diversion so quickly after everything that happened in Moria." 

A shadow crossed the elf's face. "Elves can experience memory as 
vividly as if it were the present. I haven't forgotten Gandalf. But I don't 
wish to dwell on that pain. I have had enough of that in my life. It is 
healing to direct my attention to the small issues of present time. 
Maybe you should as well." 

"My diversion is far away." Aragorn splashed water on his face and 
hair. 

"Perhaps not so far as you think," said Legolas. 

Aragorn grunted. He rolled his shoulder. "The water feels good on my 
arm," he said, "I think I strained it when the cave troll threw me." 

"You're lucky that's all that happened," said Legolas. "We all are. By 
the Valar, he had a hard head." Both he and Aragorn chuckled. "Here, 
let me work on it for you," Legolas offered. 

"It's not necessary," said Aragorn. 

"You're the one that scared off Melindi. She could have worked on it. 
She has the gift. Now, you're stuck with me." The elf moved over to 
Aragorn, turned the ranger so his back was toward him, and began stroking 
and kneading the man's sword arm. 

"Ai," cried Aragorn, "not so hard." 

"Will you relax!" said the elf. "You are one great knot."

Aragorn sighed and leaned back against Legolas. He found it pleasant to 
lay in the elf's arms. He felt warm and slippery in the water. 
Legolas's fingers found the ache in his shoulder and deftly worked the muscles 
loose. As the night air cooled, the steam gathered into a mist over the 
pool. Another memory arose unbidden; one that Aragorn had put from his 
mind from a feeling of embarrassment. 



He had been at his home in Imladris many years ago. A warm summer's 
day. He was young, about eighteen. At that time he was called Estel and 
had no knowledge of his true heritage. He remembered he had been sent by 
Erestor, his tutor, to the clearing where the elves practiced archery. 
None of the other pupils had shown up yet, so he lay down under some 
tangled vines, intending to sneak up on Erestor and scare him. It would 
serve him right after making him translate the whole lay of Lúthien from 
the Quenya, high language of the elves. 

Two young men appeared below him in a small glade near the targets. One 
was Prince Legolas, looking much the same as he did now, though perhaps 
lighter, more innocent. He was always laughing then. Legolas had 
arrived several days before, with messages from his father, Thranduil of 
Mirkwood, for Lord Elrond. With him was his companion, a tall dark-haired 
elf with bright violet eyes, named Elwen. They appeared to be hunting. 
Both were stripped to the waist. Their quivers were slung across their 
backs; they carried their bows in their hands. 

"Bet you I can hit that target from here," Elwen said. The target was 
about one hundred yards away. 

"You have been shooting poorly all day," said Legolas. "I bet you a 
bottle of miruvor that you can not."

Elwen bent back his bow, took a long time sighting and let the arrow 
fly with a swift whoosh and a thunk, as it hit the tree next to the 
target. 

With a blurred motion, Legolas pulled an arrow from his quiver, notched 
and released it, and hit the target dead center.

"You are such a show off," laughed Elwen. He shoved Legolas on the 
shoulder. The next instant they had thrown their quivers to the ground and 
squared off. Legolas lunged at Elwen and grasped him around the chest. 
They struggled for a while, each trying to throw the other off balance, 
even while they were laughing. Then Legolas got a foot behind Elwen's 
and tripped him. The dark haired elf went down, Legolas threw himself on 
top of him, but Elwen put a foot up onto his chest and flipped him over 
onto his back. Legolas made an umph sound as the wind was knocked out 
of him. Elwen rolled over, straddled Legolas's hips, and pushed his 
shoulders into the grass. To Aragorn's surprise, instead of continuing to 
struggle, Legolas went limp.

"Give?" asked the dark-haired elf. 

"Yes, always," said Legolas. Elwen bent to claim his lips in a 
passionate kiss. Suddenly Aragorn understood aspects of their relationship that 
had puzzled him before. How close they always stood, the light touches, 
the way they looked at each other. How could I have been so stupid not 
to see, Aragorn thought.

Elwen kissed across Legolas's face and lipped his ears, causing the 
blond haired elf to thrash and beat his fist lightly on his companion's 
back. Then he kissed down Legolas's well-formed chest, pausing to lick 
his nipples.

"Um, Elwen, quit it," Legolas said. Elwen bent lower and began untying 
the prince's leggings with his teeth. "I mean it," threatened Legolas, 
"not here. Someone will come." 

"Too late," Elwen cried, and he pulled Legolas's pants off his hips, 
revealing a powerful erection. He took Legolas in his mouth, and rapidly 
moved up and down the entire length. Legolas closed his eyes and 
stiffened his legs, moaning. 

"Valar, ah my love, you are too good at that," Legolas gasped. Elwen 
continued his ministrations first slowly, then faster and faster until 
the blond elf arched his back and cried out as Elwen's smooth, white 
throat contracted with several swallowing motions. 

Legolas lay panting with his eyes shut. "Ah, lirimaer, I believe I owe 
you the miruvor after all," he said. He reached over to caress the 
prominent bulge in Elwen's leggings. 

"Hush, love, wait. Someone is coming," said Elwen sitting up. 

"Someone already has come," joked Legolas, pulling his leggings back 
up. He tilted his head, listening. "No," he said softly, "someone has 
been here the whole time." He turned and stared at Aragorn's hiding place. 
But Aragorn did not think he could see him. They turned their heads 
back in the direction of the main path, hearing silvery voices and one 
lifted in song. 

"Quick, my love," Legolas kissed Elwen's lips. "We can finish this 
somewhere else." And they grabbed their bows and quivers, and faded into 
the trees. 

That night at dinner, Aragorn had the distinct impression that the 
beautiful elven prince was looking at him quizzically. Did he suspect? How 
could he know? 

Now this same radiant being was inches away rubbing his shoulder. 
Legolas was charged with a sexual energy felt by anyone who came near him. 
It made a prickling sensation on the skin. Aragorn had to admit to 
himself that he was not immune. 

After some time Aragorn said, "yes, that's much better. I don't know 
how your Melindi could have improved on that. You must have a healing 
gift as well." 

"It merely involves a sensitivity to the energy of living things," said 
Legolas. "And now if you'll excuse me, friend, I think I'll look for 
some healing of a different nature." 

He pulled himself up onto the rocks, the water rushing off his body, 
arm muscles flexed. He stood, stretched, grabbed a cloth hanging on a 
tree branch, and dried off. Aragorn couldn't help but look; Legolas had 
such a beautiful form. The torchlight flickered over high rounded 
buttocks that hollowed in at the hip, long, taut muscular legs, supple waist, 
corded muscles in his abdomen that fluted down into a well defined 
curve that dipped from his hips across his loins. His member was relaxed, 
semi-erect, and elegant like the rest of him. 

Aragorn swallowed, licked his lips, and to his embarrassment, found 
himself growing hard. He settled further down in the water, feigning 
indifference. 

"Go on to your lovely elf maiden, then," he said, "just don't forget to 
come back to your friends. You have a mission to fulfill." 

"Yes, my captain," Legolas drew on his clothes and vanished silently 
into the woods.

Aragorn leaned back into the water with a sigh. Legolas was a good 
companion. Brave, quick, with a fine sense of humor. He had helped make 
this dark journey bearable. But these feelings Aragorn was experiencing 
whenever he got near the elf. . . he did not think any good would come of 
it. 

Elwen, Legolas's lover, Aragorn hadn't thought of him in a long time. 
He vaguely remembered hearing some tragic story about him. What had it 
been? 

He climbed out of the water, dressed, made his way back to the 
pavilion, and cast himself onto the soft blankets and pillows of his make-shift 
bed. Sleep came swiftly. 

~~

Chapter 2 –– Melindi 


Legolas walked through the woods, guided by lights in the talans 
overhead. He felt warm and relaxed from his bath in the hot springs. He 
thought about Aragorn. He had been watching the man carefully on their trip 
south with the Ring. At first he watched his grace, his skill with the 
sword that surpassed anyone he had ever seen, elf or man. And little by 
little, he realized he was attracted to him. He hadn't thought it 
possible, not since Elwen had died. 

This man was so different from his previous lovers. He was a loner; 
moody, driven. Legolas appreciated the beauty of his body, a body sculpted 
by the exertions of a hard life. But in truth, he was most attracted to 
the hunger he sensed in the ranger. A hunger that threatened to crack 
that carefully honed discipline. Legolas wondered what it would be like 
to sate that hunger. He ran a finger across his lips. But Aragorn was 
unavailable, his troth plighted to Arwen. Legolas was well aware that 
Aragorn would never be his. And yet, hadn't he sensed an attraction just 
now? 

It was no matter. He was off to visit Melindi, with whom he felt sure 
he could get the healing his body required. And perhaps help heal the 
aching void in his heart as well. He reached the great tree. From years 
long gone, he recognized its unique growth, the way the lowest branches 
arched upward on one side and down on the other. He found the white 
ladder and went lightly up. 

When he reached the talan, he stood outside the door. He could see the 
light within through the cracks. He called her name softly. Then he 
waited for what seemed an eternity. Finally, the door opened and he 
entered her house. 

"So, you're here," she said to him. She was holding a little lamp, 
shielding the light with her hand. Her red-gold hair glistened in the 
flickering light. He could see the points of her nipples through the thin 
fabric of her garment. "I didn't want you to come tonight."  Her face was 
tense.

"And why not, Melindi? You're not glad to see an old friend?" He moved 
closer.

She turned away, "Legolas, it's been one hundred years. A long time, 
even for an elf." 

"As I recall, you were the one who wouldn't come with me to Mirkwood, " 
Legolas said. "I had to go. My father summoned me." 

"Yes, and you said you would return and you didn't. Then I heard you'd 
taken a male lover. I assumed it was over between us. My heart has 
hardened since then. I no longer listen for your returning footfalls. And 
yet, here you are again." 

"Only for a little while. I must leave soon. I gave my word to Elrond 
that I would see this quest through to the end. There is nothing more 
important to everything we love on Middle Earth." 

"Then, I must ask you to leave now, Legolas, son of Thranduil." 

"Just one kiss, for the sake of what was." He said it as if it were 
already accomplished. A simple gesture and he would leave. He moved closer 
to her. She looked up at him with wide blue eyes. He laid his hands on 
her shoulders, slid his face gently along hers, then breathed in her 
ear. He could feel her yielding, like a tight flower bud just starting to 
open. He leaned down and brushed his lips across hers. She gasped. He 
opened his mouth slightly and gathered her full, velvety lips to his. 
Then, he enfolded her in his arms, feeling the tension in her body 
lessen. 

"Ah, Legolas," she sighed. "I never could resist you." 

He trailed kisses down her throat. "Why should you resist?" he said, "I 
don't intend to harm you. Only to give you pleasure." 

"You have always given me pleasure. And pain," she said. 

"I promise only pleasure tonight." The elf prince bit her neck gently, 
then harder. He stroked his hands slowly up and down her back. Her 
breath quickened. He kissed her again deeply, sliding his tongue into her 
mouth, and stroking the back of her neck with his fingers. He felt her 
opening more but, like a doe, still tense, ready to run. He held her 
body tightly, feeling warmth pool in his loins. His member hardened 
against her soft belly. 

Legolas stopped and looked into her eyes. Then he reached behind her 
head and undid her hair clasp. Slowly he unbraided her hair. Melindi 
sighed and shivered. 

"You did this for me earlier this evening," he said. He ran his fingers 
through the silky red-gold strands, drifting across the delicate 
pointed ears. He leaned over and pulled on an earlobe with his teeth. 

"You remember my weaknesses too well," Melindi whispered. 

"I remember all of them," said Legolas. He reached around and cupped 
her breasts in his hands, stroking them through her dress.  Then he 
unpinned the broach that held up the shoulder of her garment. The cloth slid 
down to her waist. He moved around to look at her. Her breasts were 
round and smooth. The hardened nipples tilted upwards. 

"You are so beautiful," Legolas murmured. He kissed down her chest 
before gently taking one tender nipple in his mouth.

She let out a gasping moan. He could smell her, a scent of salty 
lillies. He slid his hand down over her hip and rubbed the mound between her 
legs. He reached down and pulled her dress up, then stroked up her 
thigh. Bringing his hand to his mouth, he sucked on his fingers, then 
touched the soft folds between her legs, sliding a finger into her. He moved 
it slowly in and out. She was warm, slick with moisture. The blossom 
was completely open to him now. 

"Come upstairs with me," she breathed, "and by Arda, I shall be yours." 


~~

Chapter 3 - Unexpected Visitor 


The next morning Legolas showed up at the pavilion where the Fellowship 
was eating breakfast. He seemed relaxed and cheerful. Aragorn 
discovered he was both pleased and annoyed to see him. Legolas sat next to Gimli 
at the table and gave him a hearty thump on the back. 

"How do you like living among the elves, my good dwarf," he said. 

"Food is good. But elves are such curious creatures. I'm glad we're 
housed on the ground not perched in a tree, like nine great birds," the 
dwarf said. Then his face took on a dreamy look. "But the Lady Galadriel 
now, there's a sight worth the wear and tear of travel." 

"I like perching in a tree like a bird," Legolas said. "But you are 
right about Lady Galadriel." 

"I trust you slept well, Legolas," said Aragorn. "You seem rested." 

"A sweet rest. Good for body and soul," Legolas winked at Aragorn. He 
pulled out his long knife, cut a hunk of bread, tossed it on a plate, 
and covered it with honey. 

"How long do you think we'll linger here, Aragorn?" asked Boromir. "We 
are regaining our strength and I want to go soon. I fear that it goes 
ill with Minis Tirith." 

"I know not, Boromir. But I suspect we will be here for a while. For my 
part, I am grateful not to think of the road ahead for now." Aragorn 
did not speak of the anxieties weighing upon him. Which road to take? He 
had planned to go to Minis Tirith. But since Gandalf had departed, he 
felt an obligation to guide the Ringbearer to Mount Doom. 

"I, for one, am glad to just rest and not think of our journey," said 
Frodo. Boromir looked at him hard, then rose, and stalked off past the 
fountain, kicking at unseen objects in his path. 

"He's getting twitchy, that one," said Sam. 

"I can't blame him," Aragorn said. "This is hard on all of us." He 
sighed. His eyes lingered on Legolas, who was eating ravenously. The 
morning sun had turned his hair to gleaming gold. His blue eyes were bright 
and he looked somewhat amused. Then Aragorn noticed a circular red 
blotch on his neck, a love mark. It was Aragorn's turn to get up and walk 
off, irritated. 

In the late morning, the hobbits were playing cards under the pavilion. 
Aragorn lay stretched out on the grass, supporting his head on his 
hand, smoking his long-stemmed pipe. Legolas sat near him cross-legged, 
re-wrapping sinew around the feathers on one of his arrows. Aragorn 
watched him under lowered eyelashes. The elf had removed his cloak and 
jerkin, and had rolled the sleeves up on his shirt. Aragorn watched the play 
of muscles and tendons in his hands and forearms. He wondered why he 
found the elf so fascinating. Then unbidden, came the image of Legolas's 
head thrown back, eyes closed, face transported with pleasure as he 
came in Elwen's mouth. He thrust the image away. This was no time for 
weakness. 

At that moment, Haldir, the elf who had guided them to Caras Galadon 
several days ago, came striding toward them. 

"Aragorn," he said, "I bring news from Lady Galadriel." He looked 
appraisingly at Legolas, who gave him a slight smile. 

"Come sit, and let's hear it," Aragorn said. He sat up and gestured at 
the ground by his side. Haldir came and sat cross-legged. 

"Troops of orcs from Moria have been caught foraying deep into Lórien," 
he said. "We have taken care of most of them. I'll be leading a group 
tomorrow to relieve the patrols on the borders. Also, there are strange 
portents. The earth shakes and a black smoke issues from Moria's mouth. 
The Lady wondered if you'd wish to accompany us to see for yourself." 

Aragorn smiled. It would occupy him in something useful. "I would," he 
said. 

"We leave tomorrow at dawn. I will come for you," said Haldir. He got 
up and left. 


"Well, Legolas, do you wish to go?" asked Aragorn. 

"Do you order it, my captain?" asked Legolas. 

"No, " Aragorn said. 

"I think I'll remain here," said the elf. When it came right to it, he 
was weary of hunting orcs. And he found it difficult to leave the 
attraction nigh at hand. She would only accuse him of going sooner than 
necessary. 

The elf neatly bit off the sinew that he had wrapped around the arrow 
shaft, tied it off, then held it up and examined it. "Gimli," he called, 
"how would you like to practice shooting?" 

"Only if I can show you how to swing an axe," the dwarf responded, in 
his booming voice.

"Done," said Legolas. He rose to his feet with that fluid grace that 
Aragorn found increasingly pleasing to watch. 

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

Late that evening, Legolas once again made his way to Melindi's talan. 
This time she welcomed him without hesitation. They climbed up the 
ladder, within her house, to her bedroom. At one end of the small loft was 
a bed covered in embroidered linens. An open window allowed the breeze 
into the room. Legolas sat cross-legged on the bed, sipping a cup of 
sweet wine that she had given him. 

He was in a fine mood. He watched Melindi slowly untie her girdle and 
drop it to the floor. Then she pulled her dress over her head. Her 
shapely form looked to be carved from ivory. She undid her braid and her 
reddish-golden hair flowed around her body like a cloak. She stood still, 
looking at him wistfully, with her head tilted on one side. He 
remembered how much he had loved her strong, intelligent face. 

"I really shouldn't be doing this, you know," she said.

"Why not?" he asked. He set the cup down, got up, and crossed the room 
in two steps. Very gently he brushed his fingertips along her cheek. 
Then he took her face in his hands and kissed her. 

"You set me on fire," she murmured. Legolas deepened the kiss. He slid 
his hands under the curtain of hair, and encircled her waist, drawing 
her to him. 

"This is hardly fair, Prince Legolas," Melindi said, breaking away, 
"you still have all your clothes on."

"And what are you going to do about that?" he teased.

She reached down and unbuckled his belt, allowing it to drop to the 
floor. Then she unfastened the clasps of the high-necked, blue silk tunic 
that the Galadrim had given him when they arrived. 

"This makes your eyes look as blue as spring violets," she said, 
fingering the material. He allowed her to slide it over his shoulders and 
pull if off. Both of their chests were bare now. The elf woman trailed her 
fingers over his pectoral muscles. Then she reached down for the laces 
on his leggings. 

Legolas caught her hands. "Are you in such a hurry?" he purred. "We 
have all night."

"Off with them, lover." Her eyes sparkled wickedly. Laughing, he shook 
his head no. Melindi tried to free her hands, but he held them tightly, 
and she was no match for his strength. 

"You haven't changed a bit. You're still an immature elfling," she 
giggled. She leaned her breasts onto his chest and captured his lips again. 
Then she nibbled down his neck. That felt good; a moan escaped him. 

Melindi moved him back slowly until he stood next to the sleeping 
platform. Suddenly, she pushed him, and he fell backwards, landing hard on 
the mattress. He grunted in surprise. She jumped on him and held his 
wrists down. 

"Now, who's in charge?" she said. 

"Obviously you. Do you plan to have your way with me, then?" He 
grinned.

"Yes, I'll make you pleasure me, you wicked thing. You need to make up 
for an absence of one hundred years. Are you up for the task?" Melindi 
challenged.

"See for yourself." The elven prince bucked his hips under her crotch. 
His erection rubbed against her through the material. She released his 
hands to untie the laces on his leggings. Legolas allowed her to loosen 
them, and then peel them off his hips. Her cool hands stroked his 
stiffened member causing waves of pleasure to shoot through his groin. He 
reached up and fondled one of her breasts, feeling her nipple hardening. 
He stroked the other one. Yes, he had missed these. So nice to touch. 

Melindi moved down Legolas's body and licked his erection, making him 
shudder. Then she put her warm mouth around it, moving up and down. 

"Unhh, that is wonderful," he groaned. Although he thought that she was 
not as good at that as Elwen had been. But then no one was. 

She came back up and kissed his mouth. "Lindy, wait a bit," Legolas 
said. He sat up and pulled one boot off and threw it against the wall. The 
other followed. Then he rolled the leggings the rest of the way off and 
pushed them off the bed. Now, they were both completely naked. 

"Are you happy, we're even now?" he asked.

"You're still wearing something, lover. What's this?" She pulled at his 
gold arm bracelet.

"That stays," Legolas said forcefully, folding a hand protectively 
around it. She sat up, pouting. 

"What does it matter?" he said, flinging himself on top of her. He 
began kissing her hard, passionately. He kissed and fondled her breasts, 
stopping to suck long and diligently on her nipples, first one, then the 
other. Melindi moaned, her hands pulling at the bedcovers. 

He lowered himself, first kissing her belly, her thighs, then moving 
over to the area in between. He stroked the tuft of blond hair, used his 
hands to part her slightly and then began licking the soft folds of her 
genitals. She tasted like honey, as he remembered. Legolas rapidly 
moved his tongue across her flesh. She began to cry and pump her hips. He 
slid a finger inside her and swirled it around, then began moving it in 
and out of her. She was very wet. 

He moved back up her body to kiss her lips. "See how good you taste," 
he breathed in her mouth. He bent to bite her neck causing her to moan 
and writhe under him. 

"Leggie, oh I want you, please," she groaned.

He pushed up on his arms and positioned his weeping member at her 
entrance. Then, in a fluid motion, he pushed into her. With another stroke, 
he had sheathed himself to the hilt. Melindi gasped. He began to move 
in her. Oh this was bliss. She was tight, but soft and yielding under 
him. So different from what he was used to. Her pubic mound fit into the 
hollow of his hips like a glove. 

"That is so good," she sighed. 

"Should I stop?" he teased. 



"No, please Valar, no," she said. "Go faster." He moved more quickly, 
with powerful strokes.

"Yes, more," she moaned. He fastened his mouth on hers and rapidly 
rammed in and out of her.

"Legolas, I'm going to come," she breathed into his mouth. Then she 
cried out. Her body shuddered and he could feel her muscles clenching 
rhythmically around his organ. He felt his blood pounding in his ears. His 
body gathered for a powerful release. 

"Stop," she said suddenly. She tensed, listening. 

"Oh, love, not possible," he moaned, moving hard within her. 


"I mean it," she pushed forcefully on his chest, twisted her hips, 
wriggled out from under him. He came out of her still rock hard, and 
gasping in agony. 

"I can't believe you did that," he cried. 

"Hurry! You have to go." She scooped up his clothes and dropped them on 
him. 

"What?" he said. 

She pushed him off the mattress. "You have to leave. Go out by the 
window. Now. Hurry!" 

Then he heard a male voice call her name from outside her door, one 
floor below. She drew her dress rapidly over her head and began doing up 
her hair. 

"Who is that?" Legolas hissed, backing up toward the window, naked, and 
hugging his clothes to his chest. 

"My husband." 

"Your what?" 

"Did you really think I would continue to wait for you all alone?" she 
whispered sharply. "He's back from patrolling the border much earlier 
than I expected. Your presence will be hard to explain. Out now. Or do 
you prefer that he come hunting for you?" Then she called loudly, 
"Coming Celemir." 

Legolas climbed out the window onto the broad tree limb. Melindi leaned 
out, kissed him, and added his boots to the pile in his arms. "Sorry 
you had to learn about it like this," she said. "I did plan to tell you." 
She paused, then added. "You are the best lover I've ever had." She 
rolled the screen over the window and was gone. 

Legolas sat shivering out on the limb, completely naked, and feeling 
sick from the aborted orgasm. However, he had enough wits left to see the 
situation as humorous. He began to shake with suppressed laughter. One 
of his boots dropped out of his arms. The sound of its journey crashing 
down through the branches was even funnier. He had to purse his lips 
together to keep Melindi's husband from hearing. Slowly and awkwardly, he 
drew on his clothes, and then began the tricky process of climbing 
down. 

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


The next morning as Aragorn left the gates of Caras Galadon with Haldir 
and a dozen other elves, he came upon Legolas. He was leaning against a 
tree trunk, standing on one leg with the other propped behind him, 
dressed in traveling garb with his quiver strapped to his back. He had a 
chagrined expression on his face. 

"I thought I'd join you after all, if you'll have me," he said.


~~

Chapter 4 - The Celebrant

Seeing Legolas gave Aragorn a surge of pleasure. But he merely nodded. 
The beautiful elf prince fell into line behind him. After a while, 
Aragorn dropped back next to him.

"What caused you to change your mind?" Aragorn asked Legolas.

"The situation was not what I had thought," replied the elf. Then he 
grinned, "And I ended up sitting naked outside her window, wondering how 
I was going to climb down without killing myself."

It was Aragorn's turn to smile. "What happened?"

"Her husband came home unexpectedly." 

Aragorn laughed. "So, maybe it was best to get out of town for a 
while?"

"You could say that." Legolas's eyes sparkled with good humor. "Well, 
enough said. It didn't work out then and it hasn't worked out now." 

"I'm glad you could accompany us," Aragorn said. He clapped a hand on 
Legolas's shoulder. He was not prepared for the effect it had on him; it 
was like touching a hive of humming bees. He removed his hand abruptly. 
Legolas raised an eyebrow. 

"We'd better catch up or Haldir will begin wondering," the elf said. 



As they walked through the golden leafy paths, Legolas played a memory 
through his mind. A memory of Elwen. His thoughts always seemed to 
drift back to him. They were outside under the blankets together. It was 
cold. Elwen was on top of him. His sculpted cheek bones and pointed chin 
were illuminated silvery blue by the full moon. His soft black hair 
flowed over his shoulders and spilled onto Legolas's bare chest, brushing 
it lightly with each move. His breath smoked in the chill air. He was 
playing a familiar game as he stroked slowly into Legolas. He slid a 
hand under Legolas's knee and raised it up. 

"Do you love me?" he whispered. 

"You know I do. Stop torturing me and finish it," Legolas moaned.

"No, I need to hear you say it. Say you love me more than life itself."

"Valar's gifts, I love you."

"More than life itself."

"Ai! You're killing me, Elwen. Yes, more than life itself," Legolas 
cried, as if the words were being ripped from him.



Ahhhh, yes, the dark haired elf cried in triumph, he spat in his hand 
and began stroking Legolas's member as he moved faster, more 
passionately within him. The blond prince reached up, grabbed Elwen's hips and 
pulled him in deeper, moaning in anticipation. A hot rush spread through 
his loins as they climaxed simultaneously. Legolas smiled with the 
memory. Oh, Elwen had been good. 

His eyes brimmed and he drew a sleeve across them. Would you forgive 
me, Elwen, he thought, if I were to fall for another? It's been 
fifty-four years and my heart is weary from mourning you. But I'm not yet ready 
to join you in the halls of Mandos. Legolas watched Aragorn's back 
ahead of him on the path, his leather coat swinging about his legs with 
every long stride. Legolas began humming an ancient tune. A song of 
unrequited love.

"I know that song." Legolas looked up at Haldir. He had dropped back 
from the rest of the patrol. "But it is too sad. We could sing a 
different one together, if you like," he said. 

Aragorn was out of sight as the path twisted through endless tree 
trunks. Legolas considered the handsome elf with white-blond hair, pale blue 
eyes. Haldir's expression was bland, his lip curled slightly, but 
Legolas sensed a quickening of his blood. He suspected the question had a 
double meaning. Haldir was notorious.

"What about an Ent song of spring?" Legolas said. And he began in a 
high clear voice of eerie beauty. Haldir harmonized in a deeper tone. Soon 
the other elves joined in. 



Up ahead, Aragorn felt soothed by the ethereal sound of the elves' 
song. Staring at the elven backs marching ahead of him, their long braided 
hair flowing over their grey cloaks, he realized how much he had missed 
the Hall of Fire in Rivendell and the sound of elven voices. Including 
Arwen's. He decided to put away these foolish thoughts about Legolas. 
The elf probably had no interest in him anyway. He felt lighter, as if 
he'd cleared a weight off his mind.

At length they came to the banks of a swiftly moving stream. "This is 
the Celebrant," Haldir said. "We need to wait here for the other 
patrol." 

Soon a group of about eight elves appeared on the other side of the 
stream. One waved, then pulled a coil of rope from his pack, and tied it 
around a tree trunk. He fixed a rock on one end, swung it around his 
head several times, and flung it across the stream. It landed at Haldir's 
feet. He picked it up and tied it around the tree. All but one of the 
elves ran lightly along the rope to their side of the stream.

"We need to tie another rope for Aragorn to hang onto," said Legolas, 
"unless you want to try walking that line." 

"No, indeed," said Aragorn. "I have no illusions about my skill in this 
matter." 

They flung another rope across and the remaining elf made it fast, 
about waist high. Then all the elves of Haldir's troop walked over. Aragorn 
came last and had a difficult time keeping his footing on the slender 
swaying bridge. He pulled hard on the rope. Suddenly, the knot slipped a 
few inches around the tree trunk, creating a slack line. Aragorn lost 
his balance and fell into the rushing water. He was swiftly carried 
downstream.

Several elves cried out in dismay. "Quick, Haldir, tie one end of the 
rope to me," Legolas said as he shed his quiver and his cloak. Haldir 
did so, and Legolas jumped into the icy water. The force of the current 
almost overwhelmed him as he swam with overhand strokes. He could see 
Aragorn's head bobbing as he attempted to swim to the bank, but the 
current was too swift. Aragorn banged up against some rocks and clung 
tightly to them. 



"Hold on, Aragorn," Legolas shouted. The roar of the water took the 
words and flung them away. His teeth were chattering already with the 
cold. He swam toward the rocks. Aragorn reached out a hand, but Legolas was 
swept around him, further downstream. Then he was brought up hard by 
the rope around his chest; Haldir was pulling it in.

Legolas called to Aragorn, "Let go! Swim this way and I'll catch you." 
Aragorn pushed off the rocks and flew towards Legolas. He collided with 
him and Legolas grabbed his arm. The ranger slipped underwater, then 
came up coughing. Legolas felt a steady tug against his chest as he was 
hauled ashore. Aragorn clung to him. "Not so hard, friend," the elf 
said, "you're going to drown me."

Haldir dragged them into shallow water. Legolas got up, staggering. 
Aragorn followed and then collapsed on the bank, coughing up water. They 
were both shaking with cold.

"Build a fire," commanded Haldir. "Get their clothes off them and put 
them under some blankets. They'll soon warm each other up." His lips 
curled upward.

Aragorn found himself shivering under several blankets next to a fire 
with a naked Legolas pressed against his side. His skin was warm where 
it touched the elf. Their clothes hung dripping near the fire. Haldir 
gave them each several droughts of miruvor. Aragorn felt a warm glow 
began spreading from his stomach. 



"Well, that was graceful," he finally stammered. He turned to Legolas, 
"Thank you for coming in after me." 

"You didn't tell me you were planning to take a bath," the elf said 
lightly, his teeth still chattering. "I know of less painful ways to do 
it." 

As Aragorn warmed, the touch of the elf's skin became maddening. It 
enveloped him in a pulsing glow, tickling his loins. He longed to caress 
him. Dreamed of kissing and licking him in sensitive places, of being 
inside him. 

Evening came. The other elves made a meal and passed it to them. 
Eventually, they rolled up in blankets and fell asleep. Legolas passed out 
next to Aragorn. The ranger could hear his soft breathing. But Aragorn 
couldn't close his eyes. He felt on fire, a fire stoked by the warm glow 
of the elf's skin. He rolled over and pressed himself against the elf's 
back; he stroked a hand along the elf's smooth chest and touched a 
nipple. His member hardened against Legolas's rear. 

The elf sighed and turned over. They were face to face. Legolas put his 
arms around him. Aragorn tentatively brushed his lips across his cheek, 
then his mouth. The elf moved his lips against Aragorn's. 

"Elwen, don't leave," he muttered. Aragorn pulled back to look at him. 
In the dying firelight, he could see the elf's eyes fluttering under 
half-closed lids. He was dreaming. 



This can't be, Aragorn thought fiercely. I must not do this. With an 
effort he sat up, took one of the blankets and wrapped it around his body 
so he was shielded from the touch of Legolas's skin. Then he fell into 
a sound sleep.

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

Legolas was walking through a forest. Immense trees rose to 
unimaginable heights and blocked out most of the sky. He heard a flute piping in 
the distance. He came out into an open meadow. Elwen sat on a large rock 
playing; a cloud of butterflies fluttered around him. He wore loose 
indigo robes. The color made his eyes glow a deep violet. His long black 
hair had silver twine braided into it. He got up and came toward the elf 
prince, his flute held in one hand. 

"Well met, Legolas," he said. He held out his hand. Legolas took it and 
then clasped him hard to his chest. The feel of his body, warm, 
substantial, was just as he remembered. 

"Elwen, where are we?" he asked. 

"In the Undying Lands," said the dark-haired elf. "I came to talk to 
you."

"Elwen, my Ohtarnil, I failed you, and I have lived with that torture 
every day for the past fifty-four years," Legolas said.

"You did not fail me. It wasn't your fault, Legolas." 

"I should never have left you alone," Legolas said. 

Elwen stroked his hair. "But it was true what I said that night," he 
said. "You never gave me your whole heart as I gave you mine. You always 
held something back." 

"I could not bind with you. You know that. My father would never have 
accepted it," said Legolas. 

"But you could still have loved me with all your heart. You tried to 
protect yourself from pain and only succeeded in denying us both." He ran 
the back of his hand across Legolas's check. "I made a mistake, 
Legolas. I asked you to love me more than life itself. Now I see that to honor 
my memory, you have stopped loving altogether. I do not wish this. I 
only want your happiness. You cannot find it through revenge, seeking to 
destroy every orc ever spawned. You can only find it by opening your 
heart." 

He paused and leaned in to whisper in Legolas's ear. "There is one near 
to you who needs your love, and you need his. I release you to pursue 
this new destiny." Then he kissed him softly. Legolas felt as if a knife 
was twisting in his gut. Elwen turned and walked away.

"Elwen, don't leave," he called. Tears sprang into his eyes. 

"I have not left you, melethron-ne, I await you in the Halls of 
Mandos.* Amin mela lle. I love you. Namárië."* And he was gone.



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

In the grey morning, Legolas started awake, the dream still vivid. 
Haldir was up feeding the fire. Legolas rolled over to look at the back of 
the ranger sleeping next to him. Gently, he brushed some twigs off the 
man's hair. "There is one near to you who needs your love," Elwen had 
said. And with a rush, Legolas knew he could love this human, if the man 
would only let him.

Legolas threw off the covers, shivering in the cold air. He stood up 
and went to where his clothes hung over some branches near the fire. He 
felt his leggings, which were dry. He bent to draw them on. 

"Your mortal friend has more self-discipline than I would have," 
remarked Haldir, his eyes flicking appreciatively over Legolas's body. 

"We all know you have none, Haldir." Legolas smiled.

"So, this is the thanks I get for saving your life yesterday." Haldir 
laughed. 

"I said, 'thank you,' when you pulled me out. What else would you have? 
No, don't answer that," he said as Haldir opened his mouth. "Besides, I 
don't think he cares for males."

"Oh, he cares for you. I can feel his attraction," said Haldir, licking 
his lips. "But he's bottled it up. Pity." He stepped closer and put his 
arm around Legolas's supple waist "If he won't have you, I would." He 
pulled Legolas tight to his chest.

Legolas twisted out of the embrace. "I'll let you know," he said 
coldly.

"You will never know what you missed," Haldir purred, and then thrust 
his tongue over his upper lip in an obscene gesture. 

Aragorn watched the exchange under half-closed lids. He decided it 
would be best to pretend he hadn't heard. He stretched and sat up.

~~


Chapter 5 - Orc Patrol 

In a few hours march, the elves had nearly reached the borders of 
Lórien. Haldir led them to a gigantic mallorn. "This is the watchtower on 
this border," he said. "Follow me." They climbed a seemingly endless 
white ladder that passed through many platforms. They finally reached a 
narrow talan built toward the tapering crown. Aragorn gripped a branch as 
he looked out over the rippling forest, northwestward toward the 
Redhorn pass and the mouth of Moria. Indeed, as Haldir had reported, a thick 
black smoke issued from its gates. The earth rumbled beneath them. 

"Have you ever seen anything like that?" Haldir asked Aragorn.



"No, but I suspect some new devilry from the orcs," Aragorn said. 

"That is what we supposed. But I don't fancy going into Moria to find 
out," Haldir said. "We wait here for nightfall. If the pattern holds, 
they'll send another patrol down the Nimrodel. They don't learn quickly. 
We'll be waiting for them, like something out of their darkest 
nightmares." His blue eyes glittered. 

That evening, Haldir deployed them in twos along the path that crossed 
the stream. "We'll box them in. Wait until the leaders come by you," he 
gestured at the two elves who would wait furthest back along the path. 
"Signal when they are nigh. Then, you six up ahead, start firing at the 
rear of the line, drive the orcs together. The rest of us will come in 
from both sides and mop up. You two," he gestured at Aragorn and 
Legolas, "go over there near the edge of the wood and clean up any strays 
that escape the trap." The grey-clad elves spread out along the path and 
climbed up into the trees. 

Aragorn searched the gathering dusk, but could not see or hear any of 
the Lórien archers. "I'd hate to be those orcs," he whispered grimly. 

Aragorn and Legolas sat in a tree, straddling a branch, their bows 
ready. They could hear the ever changing song of the Nimrodel nearby. 
Aragorn had started to nod when Legolas shook his arm. "They're coming," he 
breathed. Aragorn waited tense for many minutes. Then he could hear 
dozens of feet marching, splashing through the water, their armor 
clinking, weapons rattling.

"Yrch," Legolas spat. "How I despise them!" The elf trembled with the 
excitement of impending battle. He drew an arrow from his quiver and 
notched it. 

Then they heard an owl call. Another answered in the distance. Suddenly 
there were screams and guttural cries, the sound of armored bodies 
crashing to the ground. A horn blew a retreat. "This way," a deep voice 
howled. Below them, several dark figures crashed through the underbrush. 
Legolas followed the movement with his bow and released the string. One 
figure cried out and hit the ground. The other ran on. Aragorn shot at 
him and missed. Legolas rapidly climbed further out along the limb, and 
aimed again. The orc yelped and fell thrashing. Then the elf dropped 
out of the tree like a panther. Aragorn saw his knife gleam in the 
half-light. The orc screamed again and lay still. 

Another shadowy figure came swiftly up behind the elf. He swung a mace. 
"Legolas, behind you," yelled Aragorn. The ranger leapt out of the 
tree, stumbled, got up, and ran toward the struggling pair. He swept 
Andúril out of its worn scabbard. The orc had the elf down on the ground, 
pressing the handle of the mace hard against Legolas's throat. The elf 
made a choking sound. He forced the mace upward off his neck just as 
Aragorn came up from behind and severed the orc's head from his shoulders.

Legolas tried to stand up and sank down on one knee, breathing hard. 
"Thanks, Estel," he rasped, one hand on his throat. 

"Quick, some more, over there," said Aragorn. They pursued them, 
Legolas's bow singing. More bodies hit the ground. They splashed through the 
stream and followed to the edge of the forest. One lone orc fled, the 
starlight glinting off his rough-hewn helm. Legolas raised his bow.

Aragorn put his hand on it. "Let him take the tale of the wrath of 
Lórien back to Moria."

"No, none shall live," hissed the elf through clenched teeth. He let 
the arrow fly with a sharp thisst. The orc staggered, dropped, and lay 
still. 

"Is it a personal grudge, then?" Aragorn asked quietly.

"It is!" cried the elf bitterly. And he turned back to the forest. 

Haldir had captured an orc with huge, crooked yellow teeth, that lay 
snarling in protest as he stood over it. "Where does the smoke come 
from?" Haldir asked, fingering his long knife.

"I don't know," the orc growled. "We chased a band of intruders from 
the mine. One of them fell in the pit with Morgoth's flame. We think it 
comes from the ones who fell." 

"I don't believe you," Haldir said harshly. He turned away to give an 
order to one of the elves. In the blink of an eye, the orc drew a knife 
and leapt for the elf. Haldir turned in time to see the hideous beast 
fall with an arrow through his throat. Legolas stood at a distance, his 
bow held to his cheek, eyes gleaming.

"Ha, Haldir, so now we're even," he called. 

They spent the remainder of the night in the trees, taking turns to 
watch. No more orcs troubled the forest. In the morning, Haldir led the 
group to examine the night's work. They gathered the dead orcs into a 
pile and set it afire.

"Forty-two, we took out last night," Haldir said with grim 
satisfaction. "Curse them. Perhaps they'll quit sending search parties after your 
group." He looked at Aragorn. Then he bent down. "Here, Aragorn, is a 
kind that I haven't seen before." 

"And over here, another," said one of the other elves. Aragorn examined 
the orc. He was much larger, stronger, with smaller eyes than the Moria 
orcs. His livery also was different, marked by a small white hand and 
an S rune. 

"A new threat?" Aragorn said to Legolas. 

"Perhaps. We need to be extra careful once we leave here, Aragorn. Come 
and help me," Legolas replied. They dragged the orc to the smoking pile 
of burning bodies.

"What now?" Aragorn asked Haldir, once they had finished.

"We've got to stay here to guard the borders for another week. If you 
wish, you can go back and join your party in Caras Galadon." 

"Very well," said Aragorn. 

"Your help has been appreciated," Haldir said. "There is a one more 
task you can do, if you wish. My brother Rúmil noticed a large set of 
prints belonging to a hart a couple of miles from here. We could use some 
fresh meat. He can lead you there." 

Aragorn nodded. "Legolas," he called. "Does it suit you to go deer 
hunting?"

"Whatever you wish, my captain." Legolas smiled. 

Rúmil clapped Legolas on the shoulder and they headed down the path. 
When they were out of earshot, Haldir touched Aragorn's arm and whispered 
to him. "I wouldn't let that prize go, if I were you." 

A shadow crossed Aragorn's face, but he only said, "Farewell, Haldir. 
May the sun shine on your bow." Haldir put his hand over his heart and 
inclined his head ever so slightly.


~~


Chapter 6 - The Soul of a Stag 

It took Aragorn, Legolas, and Rúmil several hours to hike back to the 
region where Rúmil had seen the deer prints in soft, marshy ground. 

"A stag. A big one," said Aragorn, when they finally located the 
prints. "But these look several days old. He could be anywhere." 

"They don't usually go too far in a few days," said Rúmil in Elvish. 
"We should fan out and see if we can surround him. I'll go up that way. 
Legolas, you should go that way and Aragorn . . ."

"I'll follow these tracks," the ranger said. 

Aragorn spent several hours following the trail through the marsh, 
where it was easy to find. The rushes rose tall over his head. The sun grew 
warm for this time of year. 

Then the tracks appeared to have left the softer earth, headed toward a 
ridge. Easy enough for a ranger, he thought. He climbed the hill, but 
the prints disappeared as the deer had traversed a large stone 
outcropping that spread in a line along the top of the ridge. Aragorn sniffed 
the wind, wondering which way the stag had gone. 

He was having a hard time concentrating. He kept remembering the feel 
of Legolas's skin against his under the blankets; the sight of him 
rising out of the water at the springs of Evinyatar. He imagined lying next 
to the elf, tasting his lips. How could he keep denying how he felt? 

Then Aragorn saw a movement in the woods. He dropped, crawled toward 
it. There was the stag! The immense animal was browsing on bushes in the 
midst of a thicket. Aragorn could see its huge rack of antlers moving, 
hear the grinding of its teeth.

Aragorn moved downwind of the creature. How magnificent it was! It 
looked at least six feet tall at the shoulder. The black eyes and muzzle 
were surrounded by white fur, a great ruff of curly hair around its neck. 

The ranger quietly notched an arrow to his bow and crept forward. He 
drew back the string, sighted, and let go. Just as he did, the animal 
moved forward, and his shot, instead of hitting the deer in the neck, hit 
its flank. The stag squealed, leapt in the air, and then took off, with 
Aragorn hot on its heels. The ranger pounded down the slope, past a 
cliff face that rose in height as he ran along it. The cliff curved around 
to his left. Suddenly, Aragorn faced a steep wall. The deer had come to 
a halt in front of it. Panting and rolling its eyes, it turned and 
stared at Aragorn. 

Aragorn backed off. He fitted another arrow to the bowstring. The stag 
lowered its huge rack of antlers and charged. The ranger managed to get 
off a shot that skipped along the deer's flanks, maddening the animal. 
Aragorn sidestepped as one antler caught his upper shoulder, ripping 
his leather jacket. He dropped the bow and rolled out of the way. The 
stag turned, lowered its head again, and nearly impaled Aragorn, the sharp 
horns inches from the man's chest. 

Then, the ranger heard the sudden zing of a bow, felt a whoosh of air 
pass his cheek. The arrow hit the stag in the neck. The animal screamed, 
a frightening sound. The next arrow caught it right in the jugular. The 
stag dropped to its knees; bright blood stained the ground. Then, it 
fell heavily, almost on top of Aragorn. 

Legolas ran past the ranger. Sinking down by the panicked deer, the elf 
picked up its head, and cradled it on his lap. The stag kicked its legs 
wildly. But Legolas held it tightly and began singing softly in Elvish, 
while stroking its neck. Aragorn didn't understand the nonsensical 
words, but he recognized it as an ancient healing song he'd heard the elves 
sing. The deer slowly lowered its legs, closed its eyes, and sighed, a 
labored rattling sound. Legolas bent down and put his mouth near the 
stag's and inhaled deeply. The stag breathed one time. Then another. Each 
time Legolas inhaled the breath. Then the great animal relaxed, and 
died. 



Aragorn looked on in awe as one shining tear rolled down Legolas's 
cheek. The elf stood up, staggered backward, and fell against the bole of a 
great mallorn tree, his arms splayed out to catch his balance. The 
ranger rose to his feet. 

"Legolas," he grabbed the elf's shoulders, "Are you all right? What did 
you do?" Legolas's eyes were rolled up into his head. He seemed to be 
having a fit. Suddenly, the elf seized Aragorn and pulled him close.

"Aragorn, I am not master of myself," Legolas gasped, in a strange, 
husky voice. His eyes locked with the ranger's; the elf's eyes wide and 
frightened as the stag's had been. The pupils were dilated, the aqua-blue 
iris shot with golden threads, ringed with a darker blue. Eyes as 
mysterious and as complex as the depths of the ocean. Aragorn felt as if he 
were falling into a well, lit with starlight. There was no returning 
from this. 

Legolas slowly smiled, his cheeks dimpled. There was a shining light 
about his face. Aragorn caught his breath at the elf's beauty. 

"Estel," Legolas licked his lips, sensuously. "The soul of a stag rides 
on my breath. Do you wish to taste it?" 



A roaring began in Aragorn's ears; his heart thumped. Slowly, as if 
drawn against his will, the ranger tilted his head, and brushed his lips 
softly against the elf's. The elf opened his mouth into the kiss. Ah, 
his mouth was warm, sweet to the taste. I'm lost, Aragorn thought, as the 
elf's tongue contacted his. 

"Empty your lungs," Legolas whispered. The man did so. "Now inhale!" 
Aragorn took a deep breath as Legolas blew a strong blast of air into 
Aragorn's lungs. The ranger had the strange sensation of a cool, silver 
mist entering his body. Then he felt his eyes flutter, his neck arched, 
legs lengthened, feet hardened to hooves, antlers grew from his head. 
These sensations passed, but he was left with emotions: fear, rage, lust. 
His loins burned with a passion he had never known before. The ground 
spun under him. Aragorn sank to his knees. 



"Legolas, what have you done? Help me." Aragorn heard his own voice as 
if it came from a great distance. 

"With pleasure, my captain." He looked up to see Legolas unbuckling his 
quiver, sliding off his pack, and setting them against the tree. The 
elf knelt next to him. Then he felt Legolas's lips pressing on his face, 
his eyelids, his neck, finally back on his mouth. Aragorn sighed and 
pulled him to the ground. He felt a burning need, a desire to possess the 
elf, to draw him into his body and never let him escape. In some corner 
of his mind, he heard a berating voice, saying something about duty, 
honor, and betrayal. He did not heed it. He could not. And he could not 
stop. He had no will left.

He slid his hands under Legolas's tunic and touched the soft skin, 
dragged his fingers over the twin columns of hard back muscle. Legolas 
pulled off Aragorn's coat. His tunic and shirt followed. The elf kissed and 
nipped down the ranger's chest, his tongue swirled around a nipple. 
Aragorn shuddered in pleasure. 



"Let's see if we can take the edge off, eh Estel?" Legolas said. He 
moved down and undid the ties on Aragorn's breeches. Then he reached in 
and gently withdrew the ranger's member. It was rock hard, the vein along 
the underside throbbing with blood. Legolas took it into his mouth. 
Aragorn lay flat on his back staring up into the trees, as the elf used 
his tongue and mouth to bring him a greater agony, and pleasure, than he 
had thought possible. He arched his back, inhaled sharply, and moaned. 
He began rocking his hips rhythmically. Finally he could stand it no 
longer, and with a cry, exploded his seed into the elf's mouth. The sky 
spun over Aragorn's head. 

The ranger became aware that Legolas had gotten up and gone over to his 
pack. Aragorn lifted himself on one elbow. The elf pulled out a flask 
and took a long draught. He passed it to Aragorn.

"You are somewhat bitter, friend. It seems fitting, such is the lot of 
mortal men." 

Aragorn took a swallow of the sweet liquor and sank back on the ground. 
"It is your turn now," he sighed.

Legolas knelt and kissed him. "It doesn't take the prescience of my 
race to predict that we will have a very pleasant evening," he said. "But 
now, we have a deer to dress and butcher, or the meat will spoil. Pull 
yourself together, my captain." He rose lightly, shrugged off his 
cloak, tunic, and shirt. Then he took his long knife from its sheath, knelt 
over the stag, and drew the weapon down its throat. A red beaded line 
followed the knife's descent.



It took the better part of the afternoon to butcher the stag and 
prepare the meat. They worked stripped to the waist, and were soon hot and 
bloody. The entire time Aragorn was acutely aware of Legolas's proximity. 
He wondered how the elf could be so focused on the task when his loins 
still burned with the stag's spirit. Surely, the elf's did also. 

Rúmil showed up and then left to fetch the other elves to help carry 
the meat back to their camp. When he arrived, Haldir raised one eyebrow 
and looked at Aragorn closely; then he smiled and nodded. Finally, as 
the late afternoon shadows lengthened, Haldir, Rúmil, and the other elves 
left.

Legolas slapped Aragorn's back and laughed. "You are a sight, friend. 
Come, I know a place not too far from here. A place to get cleaned up 
and rest." They stuffed their shirts and jerkins into their packs, 
shouldered them, and Aragorn followed Legolas through the woodland paths. 
They eventually struck a narrow way that zigzagged down a slope. Aragorn 
could hear a stream murmuring in the distance, which grew louder as they 
went. Eventually, they reached the clear, rippling water. 

"This stream runs into Celebrant," Aragorn said. 

"Yes," said Legolas. "Follow me." He ran lightly along the brook, now 
hopping from rock to rock, balancing precariously, now running along the 
bank. Occasionally he laughed in sheer delight. Aragorn came behind 
more slowly, although he, too, enjoyed the warm fragrant air, patchy 
sunlight drifting through the leaves, and the musical water. He also enjoyed 
the sight of Legolas cavorting alongside the stream.  

They came into a clearing. A waterfall poured noisily over a tall ledge 
into a foaming pool. Grass, studded with elanor and nephredil flowers, 
covered the banks. A doe sprang up and bounded off into the woods. 

Without hesitation, Legolas dropped his pack and quiver, peeled off 
boots and leggings, and dived neatly into the center of the pool. He came 
up for air seconds later with a shout and a furious shaking of his 
head. "Ho, that is cold!" He looked at Aragorn. "Come in, sluggard." 

Aragorn began pulling off his boots and leggings. Then, he too plunged 
into the water. He came up spitting and yelping. "By the Valar, this is 
painful, Legolas. Almost as bad as the Celebrant. You're going to pay 
for this." 



"I think not," Legolas laughed and swam out of reach. Aragorn swam 
several quick powerful strokes and seized Legolas around the chest. Legolas 
wriggled out of his grasp, turned and pushed Aragorn's head under. The 
man grabbed the elf's legs underwater and dragged him down as well. 
They both exploded to the surface, wrestled while treading water, each 
attempting to best the other. Legolas splashed a sheet of water at 
Aragorn, then fled, swimming rapidly to the bank. Aragorn caught up with him 
in the shallows and tripped, taking himself and the elf down heavily. 
They were both laughing hard. 

Aragorn looked into the elf's jewel-blue eyes. He felt the animal 
spirit return, spreading through his belly and thighs. The ranger sighed and 
kissed him, first tenderly and then harder. Legolas opened his mouth 
and returned the kiss. His tongue met the man's. Aragorn felt himself 
harden. Legolas slid his hands down the ranger's back and cupped his rear 
end. Legolas's erection rubbed hot against the ranger's. 



"Ah, melethron-ne*, " Legolas moaned. "Estel, I want you. But not just 
yet." 

"I cannot bear this much more," Aragorn said, "I need to make love to 
you. Please, lirimaer, don't let me go on like this. I think I shall go 
mad." He began kissing his face, his neck, his shoulders. Legolas 
pushed him away. Although the elf was the slighter of the two, his strength 
astonished Aragorn. 

"Anticipation is the appetizer before the main course," Legolas said. 
He stood, his hair streaming down his back, went to the bank, picked up 
his clothes, weapons, and pack, and set them on his head. Holding his 
burden with one hand, he waded through the pool around to the right hand 
side. The water rose to his armpits at the deepest point. The elf 
approached the curtain of the waterfall, slipped between two pouring 
torrents of water, and disappeared. 


~~


Chapter 7 - Vilyamar

Aragorn blinked. The light was failing as the sun rapidly slid toward 
the horizon. He staggered to the bank to collect his clothes and 
equipment. The ranger stuffed the clothes in the pack roll, tied his sword, 
bow, and quiver to it, and balanced it all on his head. Then he followed 
the elf, angling through the gap in the waterfall. 

At first it was dark. Aragorn could hear the boom and roar of the 
falls, and realized he was in a cavern. He could see some light to his 
right. He waded out of the water and felt the rocky floor with his bare 
feet. The light grew, and he could see that he was in a narrow crevasse 
carved by the stream during some past flood. He climbed over fallen 
boulders until he reached the top, where the sky once more opened up above 
him. 

Aragorn had reached the top of the falls. Standing next to the rushing 
water was a huge and ancient mallorn, a veteran from ages long gone. He 
walked around the immense bole of the tree and saw a thin rope ladder 
swaying lightly against the trunk. Yes, Legolas had gone that way, he 
was certain. He paused, pulled his leggings over wet skin, and began to 
climb the shaky stairway. He climbed quite high, through many dense 
branches, until his hands and feet began to hurt from the rope. He didn't 
look down. The wide platform of a talan appeared overhead. He climbed up 
through an open trapdoor and emerged into a dwelling.



The room was filled with the rich, golden light of sunset that poured 
in through a wide window in the western wall. The view over the 
waterfall and the golden forest roof was breathtaking. Brilliant orange and red 
clouds billowed in the sky. The sound of the falls could be heard as a 
distant roar.

Under the window was a wide sleeping platform covered in black furs. In 
the opposite corner of the room was a marble basin with a spigot and a 
pipe that went up to the arched wooden ceiling. Aragorn presumed there 
was a tank for rainwater on the roof. In the center of the room, 
surrounded by richly woven rugs and pillows, sat a large brass brazier 
fashioned to look like a dragon: on one side, a snarling dragon head looked 
over its back, the brazier's legs ended in clawed feet. A small metal 
pot sat on the dragon's head. Legolas was bent over the brazier, blowing 
on some logs that burst into flame. He was wearing his leggings again, 
but nothing else. His damp, blonde hair clung to his back. 

The elf looked up and grinned at the awestruck expression on Aragorn's 
face. "Welcome to Vilyamar, Sky House," he said. He came over, took 
Aragorn's pack off his back, and set it against a wall. 

Aragorn looked around. "I lived in Lothlórien for a year and never even 
heard of this place." 

"I came here once, long ago," said Legolas. "I'm glad I found it, 
again. It is a place for the Galadrim to rest while on patrol." He tossed 
Aragorn a towel. "Here, dry off." Aragorn toweled himself off and sat 
down next to the bright fire. Legolas fished the skin flask out of his 
pack, took a long swig, and passed it to Aragorn, who also drank. The 
liquor tasted like brandy with an almond flavor. A pleasant glow crept down 
the ranger's throat into his belly; it soothed him. He drank some more. 

"Are you hungry?" asked Legolas. 

Aragorn hadn't thought of it before, but he was ravenous. "Yes," he 
said. The ranger pulled a package of deer meat out of his pack, unwrapped 
it, and tossed some of it on a grill over the brazier. Soon there was a 
fine cooking smell. Aragorn sat by the fire tending the meat with a 
fork. Legolas handed him some dried fruit and lembas from his pack. 

"Legolas, what did you do back there, with the stag?" Aragorn asked 
suddenly. 

"Ah yes, that." The elf popped a piece of apple into his mouth. "When I 
quite young, I went on a hunt with my older brother. He wounded a hart 
that we tracked for miles. When we finally found him, the animal was in 
severe pain. A pain I could sense. My brother dispatched him quickly, 
but I became very upset, and wouldn't hunt anymore. So, my father's 
healer, Gelion, taught me an old, little-known technique to ease an 
animal's death. You have to be careful how you use it, though, as it has some 
interesting side-effects." The elf flashed his beautiful, dimpled 
smile. 

"Interesting is not the word I'd choose," Aragorn said. He forked the 
meat off the grill, folded a piece of lembas around it, handed it to the 
elf. 

Legolas realized that he was deeply content. His mind was still, even 
as his body ached for the touch of the man. As Legolas ate, he listened 
to the falls, the almost-heard voice of the ancient mallorn singing; 
smelled the wood smoke and the cooking meat, the faded chlorophyll of the 
mallorn leaves. He could feel the glow of the liquor, the tantalizing 
presence of the ranger. 

The elf watched Aragorn, memorizing how he moved, his muscular body 
made strong by sword-play, his broad chest covered with fine brown hair. 
Even though careworn, his weather-beaten face was handsome, hazel eyes 
framed by long black lashes, a cleft chin covered by a sparse beard. 
Legolas didn't like the beard. But that could perhaps be amended. At 
times, the ranger's face held a shy, vulnerable expression that Legolas 
found endearing. And there was the bulge at his crotch that Legolas longed 
to reach over and stroke to hardness. The elf began humming, very 
softly.



Aragorn became aware of the humming. It tickled his thighs, inflamed 
his passion. The pale yellow liquor flowed warm in his veins. Legolas's 
skin took on a soft, golden glow as the last rays of the sun touched him 
through the open window. The room beat with his pulse. He smelled like 
sandalwood. Aragorn watched as the elf, like a cat, slowly and 
sensuously licked grease off his fingers. The stag arose again from Aragorn's 
belly and unfurled itself in his loins. He reached over and caught 
Legolas's hand and pulled it to his mouth, sucking gently on the elf's 
fingers. 

"So, is it time for dessert, already," Legolas said in his soft, tenor 
voice. 

"Yes, it's time, in fact, overdue." Aragorn pulled the elf to him and 
kissed him passionately. Soon they were kissing frantically, deeply. 

"At last," Aragorn gasped. "I've wanted you for so long now. I can't 
stop myself." He kissed the elf's face, reveled in the stimulating touch 
of his bare chest. 

"May all your desire be fulfilled tonight," Legolas moaned. "You may 
have me in any manner you wish." 

Aragorn kissed down the elf's neck and over his smooth chest. The 
ranger's lips enveloped one nipple and sucked on it for a bit; then he moved 
to the other one. Legolas gasped and attempted to pull away. Aragorn 
kept going, across the rippling muscles of his abdomen, following a thin, 
downy hairline that disappeared into his green leggings. He cupped one 
hand on the bulge that had developed in the elf's pants, then leaned 
down to mouth the elf through the material. "I think I'll have elf-sauce 
for dessert," the ranger said. Legolas laughed. 

With both hands, Aragorn slid the leggings off Legolas's hips, allowing 
the elf's member to spring forth. Legolas sought to touch him. "No, lie 
back, lirimaer.* It's your turn," said Aragorn. Slowly he slid his 
mouth down over the hot flesh, moving up and down. Legolas lay back, 
closing his eyes, and moaning softly. Aragorn kissed along the elf's inner 
thighs and then moved back to the long hard shaft. He gently bit up and 
down its length. Legolas cried out. Clear liquid welled up from the slit 
on the end. Then the ranger shielded his teeth with his lips and moved 
more and more rapidly. The elf's member filled his mouth, rubbing the 
back of his throat. So hot, smooth, hard.  The ranger hadn't imagined 
that he could enjoy this so much. 



"Ah, yes, Estel. Like that," moaned the elf, bucking his hips in 
pleasure. "No, don't stop. Ahhhh!" His cry echoed through the room as he came 
hard into Aragorn's mouth; a long series of shuddering eruptions. 
Aragorn licked his lips. Legolas did indeed taste like a sweet, creamy 
dessert, with just a hint of a smokier spice. 

Aragorn moved up to lie next to the elf. He trailed his fingertips over 
Legolas's luscious, white skin, drifting over the gold band on his 
upper arm, drew them up over the plateau of his strong pectoral muscles, 
circled around his hardened nipples. Legolas shivered. "Delicious," he 
murmured. 

They lay still for a while. Then Aragorn drank some more of the 
cordial. It now tasted like peaches. It was affecting him strangely. Colors 
were brighter, smells more intense. His skin was alive to the touch. 

Legolas tingled all over. But he longed for a more intimate embrace. He 
rolled over and pulled Aragorn under him. He began kissing his mouth 
again, soft, then harder and more passionately. Their tongues met, rolled 
about each other, licked along teeth. Legolas could feel himself 
lengthening again. He hadn't felt such bliss since, well, since his 
passionate nights with Elwen in Imladris. He remembered meeting Aragorn then, 
such a lovely boy, so naive. He remembered something else. An encounter 
with Elwen in the woods, similar to the one he'd just experienced, and  
sensing a presence nearby, watching.

Legolas looked in Aragorn's hazel eyes. He drew a finger across the 
cleft in his chin, over the short, shaggy beard, through the tangled 
shoulder-length hair. "It was you, wasn't it," he said. 

"What was?" Aragorn breathed rapidly. His pupils were dilated in 
passion. 

"You were in the bushes in the practice field, watching Elwen and me, 
at Imladris." 

Aragorn actually colored, an alluring blush. "Yes," he said. "I didn't 
mean to. It was, um, fascinating."



"Have you ever had a male lover before, Estel?" asked Legolas. 

"No, no, I haven't," Aragorn admitted. "I hadn't even thought of it 
before I saw you and your dark-haired friend. But, I confess, I've thought 
of it often since that day. And you," he traced the sharp line of the 
elf's chin, "were always the object of my thoughts."

"For so long you've had this secret passion? And you never acted on it 
until now? You must have a will of iron. Although I confess to you, 
that I was attracted to you from the moment I first saw you. But you were 
a mere boy at the time and I was in love with another." Legolas looked 
out the window just as the sun disappeared behind the horizon.



"Melethron-ne,* if only you knew how I burn for you," sighed Aragorn. 
"But I am unsure how to proceed." 

The blond prince kissed him quickly and grinned. "You're in luck, you 
have an experienced guide tonight." Legolas stood up. He opened a flap 
of his pack and brought out a little silver flask. "Come, let's find a 
softer place to lie," he said. The elf took a flaming twig and kindled a 
lamp, which he carried over to the sleeping platform, and set it in an 
alcove. Then he lay down on the skins. Outside the sky was darkening. 
Stars pricked through the blue mantle. A cool breeze moved the rolled up 
screen over the window. 

Aragorn brought the brandy with him and took another draught as he lay 
down next to the elf. The ranger had shed his pants. His erection 
grazed against Legolas's leg. Legolas rolled over on top of him and bit the 
ranger's neck softly, then hard enough to leave marks. At the same 
time, he ground his erection against Aragorn's. 

Aragorn groaned. He reached up and grabbed Legolas behind the neck, 
twining his fingers in his long, silky hair. 

"Turn over, Estel," Legolas murmured. The ranger rolled onto his side, 
facing away from the elf. Legolas poured some of the oil onto his 
fingers. Then he ran his hands over Aragorn's round buttocks, following the 
indentation of his hip. He sought his tight opening and gently stroked 
a finger over it. He slowly pushed inside. Aragorn gasped. 

"Easy, relax," said Legolas, "and I'll show you how this is done." He 
probed gently before adding another finger. Then he slid down and took 
Aragorn into his mouth. He waited until the ranger was fully distracted, 
then added a third finger, stretching the opening. 

"That is not comfortable," Aragorn said through clenched teeth. 

"You will enjoy it, I promise," the elf said. He changed the angle of 
his fingers and probed further. Suddenly Aragorn lifted his hips off the 
furs. 

"Valar, what are you doing?" he groaned. "*That* feels good." 

Legolas laughed. "You like it now. I guarantee you'll like it more 
later." He withdrew his fingers. "Now, turn over on your stomach and sit up 
a bit." Aragorn did so, and Legolas spooned close behind him. He took 
his member, stroked oil over it, and placed it at Aragorn's opening. He 
pushed gently but steadily. Suddenly he breeched the muscular ring and 
was inside Aragorn. The ranger inhaled sharply. "That hurts," he said. 

Legolas reached around and stroked Aragorn's member. At the same time, 
he began singing a soft song in elvish, the same one, he'd sung to the 
stag. Legolas felt the man gradually relax. Aragorn was so hot and 
tight; it was all the elf could do to take this slowly, when he wanted to 
move hard and fast. He pushed into him by degrees, allowing the ranger 
to become used to it. Finally Aragorn sighed and Legolas could feel him 
relax even more. He pushed in the last inch and felt his belly contact 
Aragorn's lower back.

"You have all of me now, my love," whispered Legolas. "Are you 
comfortable?"

Aragorn nodded. Legolas withdrew slightly and then pushed back in, his 
movement slow. In time, he began moving faster, harder. He shifted down 
a bit and angled upwards. Aragorn caught his breath, the pleasure 
intense. Legolas grasped Aragorn's member with one hand and held him around 
the chest with the other. Soon, he was plunging into the man, feeling 
his body heat and the tight opening gripping his organ. The elf's head 
reeled as colored lights sprang out of the night. He was enveloped in 
Aragorn's musky scent. The ranger was moaning and gasping, covered in 
sweat. 

Legolas felt Aragorn's member contract with a powerful orgasm. The 
ranger gave a great cry as hot liquid spattered on the elf's hand and up 
against the ranger's belly. The sound of Aragorn's cry brought Legolas to 
culmination as well, and he came so forcefully, and with such pleasure, 
that his head swam. He collapsed onto the ranger's back before rolling 
away to lie shaking in orgasmic aftershocks. 

"Ah, Estel," he said. "That dessert was worth waiting for."

Aragorn lay panting. "I'm not sure I'll be able to walk for a while," 
he said, then smiled. "But I do not care." The ranger turned and nuzzled 
Legolas's neck. He stroked his hand down the elf's arm and met the gold 
band. He examined it more closely. It was etched with a complicated 
knot motif, and flexible, so that it moved with the muscles of Legolas's 
arm.

"Where did you get this?" he asked the elf. 

Legolas sat up and touched the band lightly. He twisted it off, leaving 
an indentation in the skin. "Gift from an old friend. Elwen, that 
dark-haired elf who you saw with me on the archery field." He handed the 
band to Aragorn, who looked at it closely and then returned it. 

"Good workmanship," Aragorn said. 

"Yes." Legolas sighed, slipping the band back on his arm. 

Then the elf slid off the bed and went to the brazier. He wrapped a 
cloth around the handle of a small pot of water sitting on the dragon's 
flat head, lifted the pot over to the basin in the corner, and poured the 
water in. He turned on the spigot and filled up the basin, then got a 
cloth, soaked it, and washed himself off. Legolas filled up the pot 
again, brought it over to Aragorn, and gently washed him.

At first the cloth was warm and soothing. Then Aragorn felt chilled. 
Legolas threw him his cloak. Then, the elf went to his pack, took out his 
knife, and a small stone. He sat on the floor and began whetting the 
knife, drawing it slowly across the stone with a whispery, scraping 
sound.



"What are you doing?" asked Aragorn, sitting up with the cloak wrapped 
around him.

Legolas didn't answer at first. Instead he picked up a leather strap 
and sliced off a small sliver as neatly as slicing soft butter. He found 
a ceramic vial in his pack, and brought it, the knife, and the pot of 
water over to the platform. 

"I'd like to give you a shave," he said grinning. 

Aragorn stroked his chin. "Is it that bad?"

"Men's beards have a certain exotic charm, but I prefer a smooth face," 
said Legolas. "If you'll allow me."

"If you wish it." Aragorn said. Legolas propped himself up against the 
platform and drew the man's head up against his chest. He dipped the 
cloth in the hot water, wrapped it around Aragorn's face. Then he poured 
some of the liquid into his hands, made a lather, took off the cloth, 
and smeared the soap around the ranger's jaw. He began scraping his 
knife against Aragorn's cheek in short strokes, occasionally rinsing it in 
the water. 

"I guess this means I really trust you," Aragorn said, as Legolas drew 
the knife up along his throat. 

"No, allowing me to enter your backside means you really trust me," 
said the elf. He worked in silence for a bit. 

"Legolas, tell me about Elwen," Aragorn said. "Ow!" The elf had nicked 
him slightly, near the ear. Legolas wet his finger and rubbed it over 
the spot where the blood had welled..

"Forgive me," Legolas said. "You *would* bring up Elwen. That is a tale 
of great sorrow."



~~



Chaper 8 - Elwen 



Legolas was silent for a while as he continued shaving Aragorn's beard. 
Finally he said, "Elwen was a member of Elrond's household. He was 
tall. Somewhat shy and awkward. He could sing and create poetry 
beautifully." Legolas paused, considering, and then said with a smile, "Valar's 
wisdom, he had a talented mouth, for more than just singing. He could 
suck you dry in a matter of minutes." 

"Careful," Aragorn joked, "I may become jealous." 

"It makes no sense to be jealous of what was," Legolas said seriously. 
He sighed again. "I remember the day I met him, as clearly as if it 
were today. It was early summer. He had come with Elrond's sons to visit 
my father, Thranduil, in Mirkwood. At the time our whole household was 
involved in games. I was in the archery competition. After the contest 
was over . . ."

"Which you won," suggested Aragorn. 



"Which I won, yes, this tall elf came up to me. He offered me his hand 
in congratulation, and as I took it, I noticed he trembled. I looked 
into his eyes, lovely iris-colored eyes, and sensed a delicate, poetic 
soul. I felt his infatuation with me. He was quite attractive: a pale, 
angular face; dark, arched brows; long, straight black hair, like a 
raven's back. I guess I fell for him as he had for me. But it took almost an 
entire summer for me to admit it to myself. Then he accompanied me on a 
trip to Lake-town. That was our first night together. An encounter 
that, unfortunately, did not go unnoticed." Legolas smiled. "And eventually 
the entire household knew of it. My father did not look kindly on the 
liaison."

"Elwen returned to Imladris at the end of the summer. It was dreadful 
parting from him and we were separated for an agonizing two years. My 
father finally relented and allowed me to visit Imladris. That was the 
first summer I met you, and when, apparently, you saw Elwen and me in a 
rather intimate moment." Legolas dipped the knife in the water with a 
soft swish and then wiped it dry on the blanket. "I think you're done 
here," he said.

Aragorn reached up and ran his fingers along his chin. "Nice job," he 
said, "and to think I only lost one ear in the process." 

"I can take the other one off, so you'll be even," Legolas joked.



"You haven't told me yet what happened." Aragorn persisted. 

"Aragorn, this is hard for me. Hmm. We had been together eighteen 
years. A blink of an eye to an elf. My father had summoned me home several 
times, but I'd paid no attention, and was happily living at Imladris, 
and working for Elrond. You'll remember that, as you were there sometimes 
in between your travels."

"Yes, I do remember seeing you there a few times," said Aragorn, "But 
you always seemed to be leaving, just as I was arriving.  Go on." 

"We had been traveling in the Ettenmoors, far to the north of Imladris. 
Elrond's sons, Elladan and Elrohir, were with us. Elrond had asked us 
to scout out the land, see if any of Sauron's creatures were moving in 
the wasted lands. So far we hadn't met with a soul. It was about this 
time of year. Cold. 

"We had camped by a spring, surrounded by a few straggly trees. We were 
remiss," Legolas said, "we hadn't seen any orc sign and we weren't 
careful enough. Then Elwen and I had a fight."



Legolas stopped speaking. The images flashed in the elf's mind - he 
could see and feel it so clearly - of lying under the blankets with Elwen 
stroking that sweet spot inside him, slowly, keeping Legolas on the 
edge of an orgasm. Elwen's breath smoked slightly in the cold air. He 
remembered what his dark-haired lover had said.

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

"Do you love me?" Elwen whispered. 

"You know I do. Stop torturing me and finish it," Legolas moaned.

"No, I need to hear you say it. Say you love me more than life itself," 
the dark-haired elf whispered.

"Valar's gifts, I love you."

"More than life itself."

"Ai! You're killing me, Elwen. Yes, more than life itself," Legolas 
cried, as if the words were ripped from him.

"Ahhhh, yes," the dark-haired elf cried. He spat in his hand and began 
stroking Legolas's member as he moved faster, more passionately within 
him. Legolas looked up at the beautiful dark-haired elf, admiring his 
flushed cheekbones, the curve of his strong white chest, the dark 
circles of his nipples, the movement of his ribs. Legolas reached up, grabbed 
Elwen's hips and pulled him in deeper, moaning in anticipation. A 
fire-rush of pleasure spread through Legolas's loins, as he came in Elwen's 
hand. At the same time, Elwen cried out. Legolas could feel Elwen's hot 
semen filling him, as the ebony-haired elf collapsed onto Legolas's 
chest.

After several long minutes, Legolas stroked his hand along Elwen's 
back. "Love, that was wonderful. You are so good at pleasuring me," he 
said. But Elwen rolled off of Legolas, taking the blanket with him. He 
curled up in it, turning away from the blond elf. Legolas was left naked in 
the cold. He tugged at the blanket.

"Come on, Elwen, it's too cold out here for you to hog the cover." 

"Fine, you can have it!" Elwen threw his side of the blanket onto 
Legolas. Then he sat up and drew on his leggings, his long, black hair 
hanging in tangles over his back. He picked up his shirt and began turning 
the sleeves right side out. His movements were sharp, angry.

"What is with you Elwen?" asked Legolas. 

"Nothing," Elwen replied shortly.

"Yes, it's something. Tell me," commanded the blond prince.

"Alright, I will," Elwen whirled to face Legolas. "Why, Legolas, even 
after all this time, do you make me beg you. Why won't you tell me you 
love me first?"

"I do tell you."

"Never! You never say it first. I have to drag it out of you, and 
usually in the midst of screwing your brains out, so you're half addled with 
pleasure," Elwen said.

"You don't think I mean it under those circumstances?" Legolas asked, 
astonished.

"You don't love me in the way I wish you would," Elwen said angrily. 

"What is wrong with you, Elwen! You know I cannot bind myself to you. 
You knew that about me when we first met." It was Legolas's turn to get 
angry.

"Yes, Legolas, I *know* that," Elwen spat out. " I don't want a binding 
ceremony. I just want you to open your heart to me." 

"Do you think I haven't?" Legolas attempted to kiss him. 

Elwen pushed him aside. "You haven't and you know it. I feel as if a 
good wind could come by and sweep you away. There is a place within you, 
lirimaer, that you keep locked up. I can feel that place when we make 
love. I can feel it, " he thumped his chest. "And I can't help it, I 
want *all* of you, without regrets, fears, issues." He looked directly at 
Legolas, lightning in his violet eyes. "I believe you are still your 
father's son. Your fear of displeasing him is stronger than your love for 
me!"



That had hit home, Legolas remembered. He sat up and grasped Elwen's 
arm. "What do you think, Elwen? That I've enjoyed this self-imposed exile 
from my family. That I haven't done it for you?" 



"You haven't done it for me. You've done it for yourself!" Elwen pulled 
on the rest of his clothes. Last, he flung his cloak around his 
shoulders with a flourish and fastened the pin. He picked up his bow and 
quiver and got on his horse. 

"Where are you going?" Legolas called.

"Somewhere by myself, to think," he said. "Perhaps, I'll head back to 
Imladris."

"Elwen, it's night. This is insane."

"Good bye, Legolas," he said. 



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

Legolas rubbed his hand over his eyes. The memory was so clear and 
powerful. He could see Elwen's back as he walked to his horse, his cloak 
flowing behind him. The angry way he leaped on the animal's back and spun 
him around. 

"Go on, Legolas, what happened?" Aragorn prompted. 

"He accused me of keeping a place in my heart locked away from him. 
Which was true. My father expects me to make a royal marriage to an elf 
woman, someday. I couldn't bind with Elwen. Or so I told myself at the 
time. Then, to my everlasting regret, I let him ride off." 

Legolas moved away from Aragorn and sat on the bed, pulling a black fur 
around his shoulders.

"Several hours went by and I sat by the fire, feeling angry at Elwen, 
and sorry for myself. Then suddenly I had a terrible feeling, as if I 
heard him call my name in terror. I jumped up and headed for my horse. 
Just then Elladan and Elrohir came riding up in a cloud of dust. 

"'Where is Elwen?' Elladan asked. 

"'He's ridden off, in a tantrum,' I said. 

"'Legolas, we've got to find him right away,' said Elrohir. 'We've seen 
orc sign.'

"A cold fear gripped my heart. I mounted my horse and we rode the 
country looking for him. Finally, in the early hours of the morning, we 
spotted a fire in the distance. We tied the horses and then crawled through 
the brush. 

"Aragorn, I can't bear the memory of the sight. I can hardly speak of 
it. The orcs had taken him. They had bound him to a tree."  Legolas 
shuddered as he played the memory through his mind. 

*******

Illuminated in the flickering firelight, Elwen's body was bound to the 
tree by a coil of rope about his chest and neck.  His hands were tied 
behind him, and his head had rolled forward onto his chest; he seemed to 
be unconscious or dead. He was stripped to the waist and bleeding from 
more than a dozen hideous, blackened wounds all over his chest and 
arms. It looked as if the orcs had pushed sharp, burning sticks into him, 
into that beautiful body. Legolas felt sick.

About a dozen of the orcs sat around the fire, feasting on what was 
left of Elwen's horse. They laughed and snarled, tossing bones over their 
shoulders.

Legolas had frozen in horror. Elladan shook his arm and spoke in a 
whisper, barely moving his lips, "Hey, Legolas, stay frosty. He's bleeding. 
He's still alive. Elrohir, you go over to the right. I'll circle around 
to the left. We'll distract them. Legolas, you go in and get him, go!"

The twins moved slowly into place. Suddenly arrows flew into the group 
of orcs from both sides. Several fell dead at once. The others started 
up and attempted to run. One of them headed straight for Elwen, 
carrying a knife. Legolas stood up and shot the orc right through the chest. 
Then the blond elf ran, feeling his heart pounding with fear. He reached 
Elwen's limp body and stood next to him, pulling and shooting arrows as 
fast as his hand could move. Several more orcs fell before the 
remainder fled, wailing. 

Legolas cut his lover down and wrapped his cloak around him as Elwen 
was blue with cold. He held him, rocking him gently, singing his healer's 
song. Elwen opened his eyes. 'I knew you'd come, Ohtarnil,' he said. He 
was having trouble breathing.

"Hush, love, we're going to get you back to Imladris where Elrond can 
heal you." 

"No, lirimaer, it's too late for that. The orcs did their work too 
thoroughly. I'm heading for the halls of Mandos. I can see the shining 
gates." He coughed up blood.

"No, Elwen, no, don't leave me," Legolas cried frantically. 

"Legolas, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you," Tears welled from 
Elwen's eyes, one slipped down his cheek. "I have paid for my pride, my 
presumption."

"No, no, you were right. Please, Elwen, I love you!" Legolas shook him 
gently.

The dark-haired elf tried to smile. "How much?" he whispered. 

Legolas looked into the violet depths of his eyes and cried, "My heart, 
my soul, I love you more than life itself!" Legolas kissed his soft 
lips. Elwen smiled and died. 

***********

Legolas could still feel the desolation of that moment. He looked at 
Aragorn's concerned face, waiting for him to continue.  Finally, the elf 
said, "Those cursed creatures tortured and murdered him. He died in my 
arms. Aragorn, you know the depth of anguish felt by your people when 
someone you love dies. For an elf, an immortal, where death is not an 
anticipated event, it is an agony beyond belief.

I held Elwen, rocking in uncontrollable grief for hours. Then I was 
filled with wrath. I shot all my arrows into the dead orcs. I threw rocks. 
I sought to get on my horse and chase the remaining ones, with no 
thought for my own safety, but Elladan restrained me. 

"We had to get his body back to Imladris. During that ride, I sank into 
a black despair. I didn't eat for days. We cremated him. After that, I 
wasted away. I wanted to die, too. Then, Elrond gave me something that 
made me forget for a while. I believe that saved my life.

"I awoke from the potion with an unquenchable rage in my belly. So 
then, I rode in search of orcs. Elladan and Elrohir rode with me. They 
understood in a way that few can. As you well know, orcs had tortured their 
mother. 

"For fifty years, my rage overpowered me. I killed without mercy. It is 
only recently that I have realized that no amount of orc deaths will 
bring him back. Now the anger has burned lower, but it is still there, 
and easily stirred." He paused. "It was my fault he died because I could 
not love him enough." A tear rolled down Legolas's face. 

Aragorn climbed onto the bed and held Legolas gently. "I'm sorry to 
have brought back this terrible memory. I was away from Imladris during 
that time, in the wilds, tracking my own demons. I didn't know what 
happened. Please, I can't bear to see you unhappy." 

"I learned something from Elwen," Legolas said, "and that is, to love 
completely and fully, no matter the consequences. I offer you my love 
and I don't care anymore about protecting myself from pain. I have 
already experienced the worst." 

Aragorn kissed the tears away from Legolas's face. "Remember what you 
said to me several nights ago? That sometimes it is healing to focus on 
present time and forget the past?" 

Legolas nodded. Aragorn stroked the elf's silken hair, "I want to help 
you forget," he said.


~~

Ohtarnil: Warrior Love by Elfscribe (elfscribe5@yahoo.com)

For disclaimers, etc. see Chapt. 1

Feedback desired: If you like the fic, please let me know. Not getting 
paid, so your enjoyment is my only reward.

Chapter 9 - Ohtarnil: The Valar's Gift 

Aragorn leaned his forehead against Legolas's, then tilted his head and 
brushed the elf's lips with his own. He held the back of Legolas's neck 
gently as he deepened the kiss, tasting the elf's sweet mouth, sliding 
his tongue inside. Slowly Legolas responded, then more hungrily.

Legolas turned toward Aragorn, the black fur sliding off his shoulders. 
Soon, they were moaning, kissing over each other's faces, and then back 
to the lips. The ranger's newly-shaved face felt strange to him as it 
slid along Legolas's smooth cheek. Strange and sensual. Their hands 
roamed over each other's bodies, squeezing, caressing. Their passion felt 
deeper, more complete than it had before. The elf's touch stimulated the 
ranger more than he had thought possible. He could not deny his 
attraction, fast becoming obsession.



"Legolas, I don't understand these feelings I have for you," Aragorn 
murmured.

"You don't have to understand them," Legolas said, "just act upon 
them." 

"I want you desperately," Aragorn moaned. 



Wrapping his arms about the elf, Aragorn pulled him down next to him on 
the bed, then flung a leg over Legolas's hip and leveraged the elf's 
groin into contact with his. The feel of Legolas's erection rubbing 
against his was electrifying. The ranger ran his hand down the elf's back, 
cupped one round buttock and pulled him even closer. 



The blond prince licked his lips, "Mmmmm, Estel, I do like your 
equipment. I want to feel it inside me."

"I should make you beg for it," Aragorn teased. He rolled on top of 
Legolas, pulled the elf's arms above his head, and held them down with one 
forearm. 

"What makes you think you won't be the first to beg?" Legolas replied. 
The pupils in his brilliant blue eyes were dilated with pleasure. 
Aragorn couldn't imagine a more beautiful creature. He leaned forward to 
capture the elf's lips again. Legolas raised his head and in one smooth 
motion, licked the entire side of Aragorn's face. 



"Uh," Aragorn released Legolas's hands to wipe off his cheek. The elf 
laughed, and in a lightning quick move, rolled on top of Aragorn, sat on 
his lap, and pressed the ranger's arms into the bed with his hands.

"You are a tease," Aragorn said. "You'll be sorry you did that."

"Make me sorry." Legolas grinned wickedly and ground his hips into 
Aragorn's. The ranger reached up and grasped the elf's rear end. 

Legolas stroked the ranger's face. "See, how much better it is without 
that prickly beard," he purred. "Much more attractive. And better for 
more intimate kisses."

"Is that a hint?" Aragorn pushed him down, and began moving down the 
elf's body, kissing and touching. He reached the elf's member and licked 
all around it, down the elf's thighs, over his balls, before finally 
taking his shaft into his mouth. 

"I like this," he said coming up for air, "much more than I would have 
anticipated." 

"Come up around here," Legolas said, "and I can please you in the same 
manner." Aragorn twisted around so his legs were at the elf's head. 
They lay on their sides, and sucked and nibbled on each other until they 
were both gasping. 

Legolas grabbed Aragorn's rear and pushed the ranger's erection deeply 
in and out of his throat. Aragorn could feel the elf's soft hair 
brushing his thighs, as Legolas's hot mouth and tongue were driving him to a 
frenzy. He could feel release building. Not yet. Aragorn let the elf's 
shaft slip from his mouth. "If you keep doing that, I'll be finished 
too quickly." 

Legolas laughed. "I can continue all night if you wish, my captain. I 
can take you to brink of release and then draw you back again, as long 
as you desire." 

"By the Valar, I believe you. That would, no doubt, destroy my sanity. 
Where is that oil you had earlier?"

Legolas reached up and felt in the alcove above them. He brought the 
silver vial down and handed it to Aragorn. The ranger sat up and poured 
some over his fingers, then coated his throbbing shaft. He leaned down 
to kiss the elf. "Tell me if this doesn't feel good."

"Don't worry," Legolas said. The elf rolled onto his stomach and 
pillowed his head on some skins. Aragorn slid his hand down the cleft in his 
rear, encountered the puckered entrance and rubbed it gently. Slowly he 
pushed a finger into the elf and began to move around, stretching him.

The elf moaned, "Add another." Aragorn slipped another finger in. 
Legolas felt very tight and hot. Aragorn ached for him. 

"Please, more oil," Legolas said. Aragorn dribbled some more down the 
elf's crack. Legolas shivered. Aragorn added his thumb and probed deeply 
until he thought he felt a raised area. Legolas writhed and groaned 
louder.

"Yes, that's the spot," Legolas cried, arching his back. 

Aragorn stroked him until the elf cried, shuddered, begged. It gave the 
ranger great pleasure to watch him become so frenzied. Aragorn removed 
his fingers. Then he took his slick member in hand and rubbed it along 
the elf's rear. He pushed gently up to the tight entrance, slowly 
applying pressure on it.

Legolas drew his legs up under his chest. Aragorn pushed harder and 
suddenly was inside his lover. The ranger's member tingled with the tight 
feel. He moved further in, sheathing himself completely. 

"Valar's gifts, yes," cried Legolas. "Take me! " Aragorn moved out, and 
then in again, first slowly, then quickening the pace. He grabbed 
Legolas's hips and pumped forcefully, enjoying the elf's gasps and cries. 

Then Legolas pulled away and turned over. "It'll be better from this 
side, I think," he said. "I want to watch your face." Aragorn smiled at 
the beautiful prince, crimson lips slightly parted, a rosy glow painting 
his cheeks, his blond hair spread around his head. 

Aragorn pushed back into him and began moving again. They both were 
sweating. "Yes, take me," gasped the elf. Aragorn plunged into him. The 
elf's muscles gripped the base of Aragorn's shaft, sending him into 
ecstasy. The ranger reached down, grasped Legolas's erection, and began 
stroking him hard. 

"Yes, that's it," the elf cried. "Harder! I can feel your passion," he 
said. "Now, feel mine!"



At that moment, Legolas threw back his head and cried out forcefully. 
His semen spurted up and hit Aragorn's chest. That was the ranger's 
undoing, and he came long and hard, in multiple waves of pulsing pleasure, 
as he emptied himself into the elf. He collapsed onto Legolas's chest, 
then rolled onto his back, and stared up at the ceiling. The flickering 
shadows cast by the lamp danced and shimmered. There was a roaring in 
his ears. His member throbbed. 

"Oh, my love," Aragorn whispered, "that has got to be a sin. It felt 
too good. If it is your intent to ensnare me with pleasure, you have 
succeeded."

Legolas turned over on his stomach, and flung an arm over Aragorn's 
chest, kissing his shoulder. "I shall never ensnare you, a'mae lamin.* You 
are always free to leave. But pleasure, I can promise you, whenever you 
desire it." The elf pulled himself up on an elbow and stroked Aragorn's 
sweaty brow, pushing the hair off his face. "How long has it been since 
you've lain with anyone?"



"Too long. Since before I met Arwen. And then it was just some quick 
fumbling with an elf woman in Elrond's house. Nothing like, like what we 
just did. I think I have denied myself too much," he smiled and gazed 
lovingly at the elf. Then he shivered and reached for the furs. Legolas 
grabbed one and pulled it over him. The elf got up, prepared more hot 
water, and washed both of them, as he had done before. 

"I think I'll sleep for a bit, now, Legolas. I am quite tired," Aragorn 
said. Legolas curled around the ranger's back. Aragorn was soothed by 
the elf's warm body pressed up behind him. He drifted off.

Legolas felt light, filled with joy and contentment, unlike anything 
he'd felt in ages. He realized he must be in love. He hadn't thought it 
would ever happen to him again. But he now understood what Elwen had 
said, as he could feel that Aragorn still held a portion of himself back, 
and in that part, the ranger was troubled. 

Tonight, it did not matter. He would allow nothing to mar his 
happiness. He went to sleep holding his beloved in his arms.

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

Aragorn walked down a hallway in Imladris. He recognized the old, oak 
smell of the walls. It was dark and he couldn't quite see. A torch 
guttered in a hall sconce. He was looking for something; yes, Arwen's room. 
Where was it? He should know quite well where it was. But the rooms 
looked different. 

He went down a stairway. His old room was located under a staircase; 
but the door was much lower than he remembered. He opened it and 
recognized the embroidered wall-hangings, the heavy, carven bedposts, and the 
rich scarlet color of the quilt. Someone was in his bed. He came close 
and raised the coverlet. Legolas lay sleeping, lips wet and alluring, 
hair and skin golden in the firelight. Aragorn leaned down to kiss him. 
The tall, winged crown he wore, slipped on his head. Strange that it was 
so large. 

Someone was beating on the door. Now, it was Arwen lying naked in the 
bed, nipples like ripe berries. Her eyes were ringed in dark circles, 
red as if she had been crying. "Aragorn, my love," she whispered. He lay 
down next to her and put his arms about her. But she felt hard, as if 
made of stone. Screams in the next room, the high pitched howl of a 
Ringwraith. It froze his blood. 

Arwen's lips moved against his ear. "You have betrayed me, and you have 
betrayed us all. Sauron has conquered. Night will come." She drew a 
black veil over her face, then dissolved into dust. His crown fell off 
slowly, slowly, but he couldn't catch it. It smashed into shards on the 
floor.

The ground shook. He was high on a ridge looking into a deep valley. 
Countless orcs, like black ants, swarmed up the sides of the valley. 
Swords beat on helms, they laughed like doom, and he was fighting for his 
life. The dead king appeared, seizing him with an iron grip.

Surrounded now by a black void, he felt the shivering presence of evil. 
A lidless eye, flames licking around the edges, flared out of the 
darkness. The black pupil jerked first one way, then another. He knew that 
it was looking for him. Horror closed his throat. No voice. Nothing.

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

Aragorn awoke suddenly from the dream, heart beating, cold sweat on his 
brow. He sat up, glancing at Legolas sleeping next to him. The moon 
shone directly in the window. It turned the elf's skin to silver; his hair 
splayed out like white smoke on the dark fur, and fell over his broad 
shoulders. He breathed lightly. How beautiful he was! Aragorn brushed 
his cheek with a finger. He was torn and miserable. Legolas, provocative, 
mysterious, was near at hand and he longed to touch him, to make love 
to him. But he felt he was betraying Arwen, his other great love. 

He tried to picture Arwen's lovely face: her wide grey eyes, delicate 
cheek bones, full lips, long, black hair. But she seemed to fade away 
from his memory. If he were able to prevail, to beat back the darkness 
and become king, then, and only then, would she be his. He must be 
faithful to that. Dedicated. If he took comfort in the arms of his friend, 
would he destroy what he had worked for? Was the Ring gaining control? 
Was the Ring causing this madness, this lust for the beautiful prince? 
How could he know? He got up, drew his cloak about himself, and paced the 
room.



Legolas stirred and raised himself on an elbow. "Estel, what is the 
matter?" he asked quietly.



Aragorn sighed. He came back and sat down next to the elf. "I had a 
terrible dream," he said. "I'm afraid I'm betraying Arwen by giving into 
the base needs of my body. I fear the Dark Lord is tempting me, that I 
am succumbing to his power." 

"Ah," Legolas brushed his long fingers across Aragorn's face. Then he 
put his arms around his chest. Aragorn tried to pull away, but Legolas 
held him firmly. He spoke in Aragorn's ear.

"Listen to me, Estel. Lord Sauron is the great deceiver. He tries to 
control us through fear. Love is Sauron's enemy because he is incapable 
of it. When we reject love, we are doing the Dark Lord's bidding." He 
ran his fingers through Aragorn's hair, combing out the tangles. His 
touch was very pleasant. Aragorn shivered. 

"There is a tradition among my people," Legolas continued softly, "that 
when we march off to battle or undertake a long quest, often we leave 
behind someone we love, usually a maiden. Out in the field, far from 
home, in order to satisfy our need for companionship, our body's needs, we 
might take a lover, usually a male. The term is "Ohtarnil,"* a warrior- 
love. To do this serves a number of useful purposes, not least, to have 
someone you trust absolutely to fight at your back, to watch out for 
you. 

Arwen knows this tradition. If ever we come through the darkness into 
your inheritance, and you and she are wed, you will tell her that you 
took an Ohtarnil, that he loved you, and protected you, and helped you to 
gain all your heart's desire, including the time with her. She will 
understand, Aragorn."

Aragorn could feel his fears dissolving as the sun melts snow fallen 
during the night. He smiled. "Ohtarnil," he said, "and what will become 
of you on that distant day?"

"I will bow to my king and fade away," said Legolas. "I will go back to 
the woods or sail west oversea."

"I'm not sure I could bear that," said Aragorn. 

Legolas laughed. "Estel, you will be a king and your life will no 
longer be your own. As for me, I am an immortal. If I dally with a man, I 
must suffer his loss, sooner or later. But I will save the memory of you 
as you are now, like a panther in the wood, lovely and dangerous, dark 
and passionate. I will remember you with the clarity of this moment. 
Release your fear. Take love and pleasure where you have found it." He 
held out his arms.

Aragorn felt as if he had grown wings. Fate had given him an ally, a 
skilled warrior, a friend, and a lover. Legolas was exactly what he 
needed now. He would not reject the Valar's gift. He pulled Legolas to him 
and kissed his mouth ardently. 

"Ohtarnil," he said. "You are wise as well as beautiful. There are some 
hours left before the dawn." He slid his hand down the elf's smooth 
backside. "I think we should make good use of them." 



The End