Title: Quicksilver  
Author: Razzle (hungryhungryhippo1@hotmail.com)  
Pairing: Legolas/Aragorn  
Rating: NC17  
Summary: Humour. In Lothlorien, Legolas and Aragorn give in 
to the tug of tight trousers. Who needs plot? We’ve got 
lovely lovely men!  
Disclaimer: Whoo! This is the ghost of Tolkein, writing a 
post script. Whoo! No, it isn’t, is it? It’s just me. Me, 
me, me.  
Warnings: I wasn’t in a good mood with Haldir. Forgive me.  
Archive: I just called, to say, I archived.  
Feedback: Is an eight-letter word, often associated with 
yes and please.  
 
 
Legolas truly was a stunning creature.  

As the fellowship passed into Lorien, and were allowed to 
remove their blindfolds, Aragorn was struck afresh by his 
beauty. It was as if, in the time he had been denied the 
pleasure of looking upon him, his grace had increased 
exponentially.  

As the elf pulled the strip of fabric from his eyes, and 
shook his elegant locks out over his shoulders, Aragorn 
felt something wet hit his hand.  

Ah, so he was drooling again. He rolled his tongue back 
into his mouth and hoped no one had noticed that.  
Haldir was looking at him strangely, so he shot him the 
look of death and strode forwards to take in the beautiful 
scene before them.  

Legolas turned to him, angling his elegant head to address 
the man. He smiled, and in tones as sweet as honey, voiced 
the words the man was thinking.  

“Beautiful, isn’t it?”  

Aragorn shivered, the words teasing his nerves.  

“I have laid eye upon it before. But it has never looked 
more lovely.”  

Aragorn walked ahead of him now, trying to exact some sort 
of control over his raging libido. If Arwen had put out 
more often, perhaps he wouldn’t be quite so obsessed with 
the lovely elf prince who walked with him.  

Aragorn did not look back, and tried not to imagine 
Legolas’ eyes burning into the back of his neck, and not to 
think of the wanton things he wanted to do to him.  
 
The man walked away from him. He was right, Lothlorien had 
never looked so lovely, and it was because of him. When he 
stood before it, proud ranger and future (Legolas shivered 
with anticipation) king of men, he brought a light of 
destiny and hope to the silver trunks and shining leaves of 
the trees that the elf loved almost as much as…  

Ah, but he shouldn’t think like that, he chided himself as 
he watched the man walk away. Destiny had no plans for 
them, at least not in the way he would like.  

The thought didn’t stop him watching the tall man intently, 
his eyes fixing on the lank strands of hair that clung to 
the back of his neck. The elf wanted to brush them away and 
fix his lips over that skin, to hear the man moan, and,  

“Are you coming?”  

Legolas turned to Haldir, his eyes wide with surprise.  

“We’re being left behind.”  

Legolas shook his exquisite head.  

“Oh, yeah. Sorry, lost in the view.”  

Haldir regarded him suspiciously.  

“Right. Come then, the lady is waiting.”  
 
 
**********  
E tiri dîn tele  
A oltha o E a dîn melethron  
Garel cam nedh parth  
A cabel os sui tâd sell  
 
{He watches his arse  
And dreams of he and his lover  
Holding hands in grassland  
And leaping around like a couple of girls}  
**********  
 
Damn. Legolas was wearing the silver. Straight after the 
audience with the lady, Aragorn had run off to bathe in 
some very cold water to try and get thoughts of the elf out 
of his head, or at least out of his breeches.  

He had been sorry to say goodbye to the collection of 
grease he had built up in some of the thicker realms of his 
hair. He had become quite fond of some of it. However, he 
was amazed how much lighter his head felt now. He had 
lingered in the water for a somewhat long time, perhaps in 
the hope that a certain elf may have happened upon him and 
seen something he liked.  

However, he was feeling a little better now, and could 
almost have dismissed the feelings he had been harbouring 
for Legolas as frustrated sex drive.  

Until he saw him.  

In that damn silver tunic.  

He sat heavily next to Gimli, in the hope that his smell 
would kill a little of his testosterone.  

Polish your sword. Look at the sword. Polish the sword and 
don’t think about your other weapon.  

Than Legolas spoke of his grief, and Aragorn’s heart 
cracked. He got up in a hurry, tripped over an 
indistinguishable hobbit and stumbled away to find Boromir, 
who could always be relied upon to kill a high.  

 
Legolas had been very particular about his outfit. Aragorn 
had once told him that silver suited him, and since then he 
had had to fight the urge to wear it every day.  

Haldir was not helping. While the elves sang their lament 
for Mithrandir, Haldir kept making up verses about how 
Legolas fancied Aragorn, and sneaking up on him to sing 
them right into his ear. 
 
He had almost caught him watching Aragorn bathe earlier, 
(shamelessly hoping he’d catch him playing with himself) 
but now Legolas was prepared. If that bloody elf came 
anywhere near him now, he was going to get a pitcher of 
swamp water in the face. Knowing how precious Haldir was 
about his hair, Legolas guessed it would be a week before 
anyone saw him again, by which time they’d be long gone.  
Aragorn didn’t seem too impressed by the tunic, just kept 
whetting his sword. Bugger. Legolas was throwing mumbled 
answers at the hobbits, and just contemplating throwing a 
bit of water on himself to give him an excuse to take his 
shirt off (and try and force Aragorn into some sort of 
reaction) when he got up very suddenly and ponced off, 
nearly falling over Merry. Or Pippin. Whatever. He was 
about to go after him, but he reached Boromir before 
Legolas could catch up with him, and the elf was not in the 
mood for one of the stupid man’s paddies.  

So he climbed a tree, and played the jealous chaperone.  
Aragorn’s soothing tones were near enough to make him fall 
out again.  
 
Bloody Boromir. 
 
This was getting stupid now. Five minutes with the whingey 
bastard was quite enough to put him right off humans for 
good.  

“Bloody Boromir!”  

“Care, my lord Aragorn.”  

He whipped around, as Legolas dropped gracefully out of the 
tree behind him. “You never know who’s listening. We don’t 
want to breed disharmony, do we?”  

The way Legolas said breed made Aragorn stiffen (bodily, of 
course).  

 
Legolas wondered if he’d said breed obviously enough. When 
elves get horny, they really abandon subtlety.  
 

Aragorn smiled, conscious he was staring, and stepped 
forward to lay a broad hand on Legolas’ bicep, just hinted 
at beneath the sleek silver fabric.  

“Silver really is your colour.”  

They both looked at Aragorn’s hand, and Legolas tried to be 
understated as he deliberately flexed his muscle under the 
touch. He looked up at the man through impossible 
eyelashes, and as he watched him take an awed breath he let 
a wicked smile creep over his lips.  

Taking an overdue breath himself, he reached his free hand 
to mimic Aragorn’s, settling over the man’s own impressive 
muscle. But his fingers retained their movement, and crept 
around until they surrounded his arm.  

For his slight appearance, the elf had a lot of strength, 
and pulled the man towards him unapologetically. Inches 
apart, he could feel the man’s breath, hot against his 
skin, and he battled to keep the smile from his face in the 
face of the man’s surprised arousal.  

“Do you supposed we have enough harmony to keep the 
fellowship together?”  

Aragorn swallowed, with some difficulty.  

“Nuh.”  

He tried again.  

“Not sure I care.”  

“Oh, tut tut, Isildur’s heir. A little focus, please.”  

Focus on this.  

Aragorn couldn’t hold back any longer. He let go of 
Legolas’ arm, and seized the back of his head, pulling him 
into a deep kiss. He held the elf a little tighter than 
necessary, and thrust his tongue past pale lips into the 
sweet cavern beyond.  

Legolas reciprocated with equal vigour, his eyelashes 
fluttering against Aragorn’s cheek as he caught the man’s 
tongue in a friendly wrestle, a fight for dominance he 
didn’t really mind losing.  

 
Legolas held his arm tighter, his fingers digging in so 
hard it was almost painful. Aragorn felt the fabric of his 
animal skin breeches tighten uncomfortably. Dimly, he 
considered how he could fight Nazgul without breaking a 
stitch, but one little (okay, not so little – go numenor 
bloodline! Long life and long… anyway.) erection, and he 
was about to burst.  

Legolas lifted his leg so his thigh brushed Aragorn’s 
arousal leisurely. Aragorn had to break away to draw in a 
sharp breath, and Legolas was quick to take advantage. He 
swept the ranger’s legs out from under him, smiling at the 
expulsion of air as the man hit the ground.  

 
A winded Aragorn managed a slight laugh.  

“Gods, Legolas, I didn’t know you had it in you!”  

“I don’t.” he replied, running an eager tongue down 
Aragorn’s neck as he began to untie his tunic. “But give me 
time.”  

Aragorn closed his eyes, swelling visibly at the thought of 
the possibilities.  

His eyes remained closed as a wilfully impatient Legolas 
defeated his tunic and delicately explored the muscles of 
his torso, outlining each one with a trail of saliva that 
caught the air and cooled rapidly on his skin, and teasing 
his nipples with playful teeth.  

 
Legolas was eager now to feel their flesh pressed together, 
so he sat back to strip his own tunic. He wore no shirt 
underneath, which Aragorn noted with a raised brow.  

“It’s warm” Legolas shrugged.  

A strong hand restrained his when he went to pull his arms 
out of the tunic’s sleeves.  

“Leave it on. Like I said, silver suits you.” The elf 
complied, never one to make an issue out of Aragorn's 
quirks. Hell, sometimes he slept with women. It takes all 
sorts.  

Aragorn's hands crept under the edges of the open tunic, 
wrapping around him in a possessive embrace, granting 
Legolas the contact he had craved. Minutes passed as they 
kissed, and Aragorn felt Legolas’ own arousal rise to meet 
his in between their bodies. Aragorn had wondered if it 
took more to stimulate a male elf, but the pressure upon 
his own erection reassured him, apparently not.  

Legolas’ hands passed down over his chest, down his 
abdomen, until they reached the leather cords securing his 
breeches. His erection came free to stand like a pole-
vaulter who’s forgotten what to do next.  

Three thousand years of experience nearly undid the man. 
Legolas ran his tongue along the length of him, around the 
head, pausing to flick his tongue across the very end, 
before swallowing him completely. Aragorn held onto his 
shoulders, as the ground seemed to fall away beneath him. 
Choked gasps escaped him as he lifted his hips into 
Legolas’ touch. He dug his fingernails into the elf’s silk-
covered shoulders, clutching onto him for dear life.  

 
Legolas was incredible, hollowing out his cheeks to suck 
him in as far as he could. The man didn’t care to ask where 
the slim elf was putting it all. He drew a hand down 
between the man’s legs, and gently pushed a finger inside 
him, which was swiftly joined by another. Legolas set to 
moving his fingers inside the man, stroking the tips over 
the cluster of nerves that sent Aragorn bucking against 
him, his shoulders digging into the soft grass beneath him. 
He thought his prostate was going to explode.  

Without warning, Legolas released him, and removed his 
fingers.  

Aragorn cried out in dismay.  

Legolas drew his body over Aragorn’s, smiling predatorily 
at the prone body beneath him, his breathing erratic and 
his face flushed.  

“For a leader of men, you *do* rather like being led, don’t 
you, my precious?”  

“Power,” Aragorn panted, “is overrated.”  

Legolas frowned.  

“I doubt it.”  

 
They froze. A sound to their left made both of them turn 
suddenly, keeping as still as they could and hoping the 
long grass would conceal them.  
Haldir skirted their little clearing, skipping through the 
trees in a fashion that can only be described as mincing. 
He sang a little song to himself and failed to notice them 
at all.  

The camp visitor exited stage left, and Legolas shrugged. 
Random poofy elves were beneath his attention. He kissed 
Aragorn, who still looked mildly confused, but forgot 
instantly under Legolas’ gentle attention.  
 

Kneeling back, Legolas relieved himself of his own 
leggings, then positioned himself comfortably between 
Aragorn’s manly knees, idly stroking his own desire. 

Aragorn curled his fingers through the silken length of the 
elf’s hair.  

“Okay?” the elf pressed softly. It was all Aragorn could do 
to nod in acceptance.  

The elf ran his tongue over the stubble on the man’s cheek, 
then smiled and held his gaze as he pushed his solid penis 
into the emptiness his fingers had left. Aragorn let his 
mouth fall open silently in pain, turning to pleasure as 
Legolas instantly renewed the stimulation of his prostate.  
Legolas sat back from him, lifting the man into his lap, 
and more fully into each of his thrusts. Legolas gritted 
his teeth against the pressure, and rocked himself in and 
out of the hot dry passage.  With one hand, he held onto 
Aragorn’s hip, and with the other hand he set a chaotic 
rhythmic assault on his aching manhood, still wet from 
Legolas’ mouth, which made his eyes roll back in his head.  
Legolas thought he looked enchanting. Anyone else would 
have thought he looked like a guppy. Aragorn cried out, 
throwing his head back into the grass as he spilled his 
seed between them. Legolas placed a hand on his neck, 
stretched out before him, leaning forward to suck on his 
adams apple, and finally moaning as he came into Aragorn’s 
incredible tightness.  
 

Legolas covered the man’s body with his own, unwilling to 
let him get up and clothe himself.  

“You know why I love you, Aragorn?”  

Aragorn felt warm suddenly  

“Why?”  

“You’re not stupid, like Boromir, or prissy, like Haldir.”  

“Thanks. Know why I love you?”  

The elf settled against him, getting comfortable and 
relaxed.  

“Why?”  

“You’re not a pussy, like Arwen.”  

“Well, Aragorn…”  

“Yeah, yeah, poor choice of phrasing.”  

“Thanks anyway.”  

“And you have a nicer arse.”  

“Thank you.”  

“And…”  

“You can stop now.”  

“Thanks.”