The Best-Laid Plans Author: Elfprincess911@yahoo.com Rating: NC17 Pairing: L/A, L/E/A Warnings: The usual. This is a three-chapter story with an interesting plot twist. It is kinda long, but I hope worth the read! Feedback: Please Disclaimer: Don't own ‘em, never will Summary: Sometimes the best-laid plans of men do actually come to fruition. Special thanks to my wonderful beta Menel, without whom this story could never have been completed. Thanks Girl! Chapter I "I do not trust him!” Legolas said his eyes darkening as he turned toward Aragorn. "He called me a spy!" "He did not call you a spy. He merely said that Saruman’s spies were constantly slipping past their nets,” Aragorn replied. "Well, he was looking directly at me when he said it!” Legolas retorted. Aragorn sighed, his patience with his elven friend beginning to wear thin. They had ridden hard for nearly three days, since the Battle of Helm's Deep, and the lack of rest was beginning to take its toll on the grim faced Ranger. He was currently in no mood for petty suspicions from the elf. "You saw yourself Legolas, how he came to our aid. Now tell me, would Gandalf have ridden so far to fetch Éomer to us, if he thought the young horse lord could not be trusted?” Aragorn watched for a reaction to his words, and a reaction he certainly received. "I think Gandalf hoped they would be bodies to throw against the onslaught. Anyway, I should have suspected that you would think that way about him. After all, you are a man just like him, aren't you?” Legolas spoke as though he were talking to one of his enemies, and even Gimli was shocked by the elf's words. Legolas rode hastily ahead of Aragorn and was out of earshot within moments. He is just tired, thought Aragorn. We are all under great stress. I believe in my heart that Éomer is my friend and an ally. He would not betray me. Legolas is just angry over their heated words when first they met. I trust Éomer. The encampment at Dunharrow was alive with excitement when Aragorn and his company rode into its midst. Éomer and his riders had arrived only a few hours earlier and were beginning to organize the muster of Rohan. A set of tents had been put up to serve as the Royal Pavilion, but King Theoden was still a good way behind Aragorn's party, and had yet to arrive. Gandalf, to the consternation of all, had taken Pippin, and ridden off on Shadowfax toward Gondor, leaving them as before, alone. Éomer came out quickly to greet Aragorn, and had a tent made available for the Ranger and his companions. Food and rest at least, they would have this night. The moon shone full as Legolas stood on the path near the cliff’s edge, looking out over the dizzying heights to the valley below. He wondered how far Gandalf and Pippin had ridden, and where in all of Middle-Earth were Sam and Frodo. His thoughts were interrupted by a rough voice behind him. "Find shelter for all the men and any refugees with them. I want all our people to be safe. I do not wish Éowyn to be left here with no protection from harm if we should fail to return." Eomer spoke these noble words to Gamling who nodded in ascent to the young lord, but to Legolas who stood listening nearby, the words were mere show. "If you do not return, then whatever small host of men you leave here will be no protection from the coming storm.” Legolas had not turned to face Éomer when he spoke those grave words, and he stood still unmoving facing the valley as Eomer looked in his direction. A spasm of momentary frustration passed over the young lord’s face, but he quickly quelled it. "Gamling, please leave me for a moment, I would have words with our elven companion," Eomer said as he laid his hand on Gamling’s shoulder. Gamling nodded, and turned to walk back toward the pavilion. Legolas gritted his teeth in anger. He wished he had remained silent. He could hear Éomer approaching with all the stealth of a charging bull, he thought ruefully. The fair elf had no desire to speak further with the horse lord, and was in no mood to share conversation with a man whom he believed thought him a spy. Éomer walked up to the lithe figure standing shrouded in shadow on the cliff’s edge. "Tell me fair one, do you see my uncle the king and his men anywhere upon the plain below? I have not your far-sightedness." Legolas seemed not to move, although his eyes scanned the valley. "They are far away, but riding fast. They will be here by morning at the latest, if they come under no attack between here and where they are." Éomer turned to face the elf, and became mindful suddenly of the soft play of moonlight over the face of his companion. "Tell me Legolas, why do you not call yourself a prince? As Thranduil's son, I find this quite strange. For of all the elven lords left in Middle Earth, your father is the only one with the brass to call himself a king, yet you, his son, wear no crown and claim no title." Legolas whirled around to face Éomer, the elven warrior’s scowling features hidden in the shadows. "Is that why you thought me a spy?” he shouted. "Do you think that a crown and title are all that is needed to make one noble? Consider the Ring Wraiths. They were once great kings of men. They held titles and wore crowns. See now what they have become?” Legolas turned and ran swiftly down the path with Éomer’s question ringing loudly in his head. "Why do you not call yourself a prince?" The elf found concealment in a small grove of pines just off the mountain path and sank to his knees amidst the fragrant needles and pinecones. He clutched his head in his hands, his heart pounding against his chest with such a fury that he thought it would surely burst forth. "Why do you not call yourself a prince....." Why indeed, the elf thought as he raised his head toward the sky and beheld Tirion in all his full majesty, sailing through the clouds. Why indeed. A single tear slid slowly down his fair face. If Éomer had known the full impact of the innocent question he had just asked, he would never have asked it. Chapter II Morning rose in all her pink hued beauty above Dunharrow, just as she did every day. Aragorn breathed the fresh air, heavy with new fallen dew, as he stepped out of the tent where he'd been obliged to spend the night listening to the raucous snoring of Gimli. That dwarf could sleep through a stampede, thought the ranger as he scanned the encampment. Everywhere soldiers and lay countrymen were scurrying about like ants. But nowhere in the near bedlam, did his eyes find that which they sought. Legolas had spent the night alone in the small grove of pines, his thoughts far away from the conquest and the present. They wandered back to a time just before the council of Elrond, back to a day that had changed him forever. "Legolas!" Aragorn called in a rather irritated voice, disrupting the elf's self pity. "Answer me!" the Ranger insisted. This is nonsense, Legolas thought. Here I am, an elven warrior, hiding in a grove of scraggly bushes feeling sorry for myself, and taking out my aggressions on Éomer who has tried only to be my friend. "Enough of this foolishness!” he said to himself as he stood and brushed the bramble from his clothes, then walked out of the glade toward the sound of the Ranger's voice. Damn that insolent elf! If he has gotten himself hurt or captured, Thranduil will surely behead me! Aragorn thought as he searched the path for any sign of the elf. Then turning to head into the trees, he nearly fell over backwards as he found himself face to face with the very object of his morning's search. Although Legolas smiled at him, Aragorn could see that something was indeed amiss with his friend and he would not be made to think otherwise. Grabbing Legolas by his elbow, Aragorn lead the elf back into the grove of trees from which he had just magically sprung. "What do you mean by staying out all night? Did you not know that I worried for you, and why this continued strife with Éomer? He told me of your words with him last night. He tries only to be your friend, but you will have none of it. If ever a son was like his father Legolas, then you surely are. Why did you get none of the queen's good sense?" Aragorn noticed immediately the paling of the fair elf's features, and how just as quickly, the pallor turned to anger, and then rage. "Any why indeed would I ever get anything from the Queen of Mirkwood? Why indeed! You see Aragorn," Legolas said as he stepped toward the ranger, "I would never be like her, for she is not my mother!" Aragorn stood aghast. In all his travels through Mirkwood, in all his dealings with its elusive people and stern distrustful king, it had never once occurred to him until this very moment, how very different Legolas was from his brothers and sisters. Not only in looks, but also in temperament as well. Legolas had always been the one to step forward and volunteer for the most perilous tasks or the most tiresome. He was ever the warrior and never the stately prince that both his brothers were. Aragorn had never given much thought to why Legolas did not wear a crown, and why he always gave his name as simply Legolas of the woodland realm. Aragorn had always just assumed that since his friend was after all, a warrior, he would have no need for decorations. "Legolas,” Aragorn breathed, "what do you mean by this?" Legolas sank to the ground and sat on a fallen log. His normally calm voice slightly shaken as he began. "Aragorn, I tell you this only because you are my only true friend. It began for me on the day you brought Gollum to us to guard. Do you remember the terrible fight that broke out in my father's hall between the Crown Prince Lindir and Fingalas, my older brothers?" “Yes, I remember it well,” Aragorn answered. "Neither of them wanted to be bothered with Gollum, and neither wanted to have the tedious task of guarding the mongrel creature. Father had begun to get angry, the queen had covered her face with her hands, and the situation was quickly escalating. I decided at that moment to do what seemed the right thing at the time. I walked over to you, took the leash from your hand, and began to lead Gollum away to the dungeons. I remember father shouting after me, asking me what I thought I was doing. Do you remember what Lindir said to me Aragorn?" Legolas asked. “I seem to remember that he thought you should not be the one assigned to guard Gollum,” Aragorn replied. "Yes," Legolas sighed. "He laughed at me, and said ‘How in the world can that silly elf take care of Gollum when he can't even take care of himself?’ I didn't know why he hated me so much. There has always been strife between us, but lately it had become much worse. He was always trying to hurt me with his words." "But your father was very proud of you for volunteering," Aragorn began. "And did not the queen smile upon you and embrace you calling you her 'bravest warrior'?" "I will explain all this to you so that you may understand. I know you always tell me that I speak in riddles. I will just be plain and speak the truth as I trust you more than any other," the elf sighed. “As you well know, the task of guarding Gollum had now become mine. And oh, how I began to loathe it! I can still hear that foul creature’s ramblings in my sleep! For three long years I endured him. But I didn't have the heart to keep him locked forever in the dark dungeons where he would eventually revert to his old ways. My friends and I began to take him with us on our forays into the forest. There was a very large tree in the center of the wood that Gollum loved to climb. “One night, my friends and I decided to take some bread and wine, and sit under that tree to pass the night under the stars and moon. Gollum begged to be allowed to come with us, and in the end I relented. My friends always teased me about my little mongrel dog, and I didn't see what harm it would do to bring him along. We were becoming fond of his antics to a certain extent. Well, as fate would have it, Gollum climbed up the tree and then refused to come down. Since none of us had the inclination to climb up after him, we just left him there. Lulled into false security by the wine, we fell into our ease at the base of the tree and lowered our guard. It was then that we were attacked. It was a ferocious attack with many orcs that I believe came from Dol Guldur. Of course, Gollum was spirited away with them. But that was not my most pressing concern. Many of my dearest friends were now dead. They had given their lives for that foul thing, and it was because of my decision to let him come in the first place that they were now dead. Of ten original companions, only three remained - Finwet, Silende, and myself. We tracked the orc party far into the night, but when they came nigh to Dol Guldur, we tracked them no further as our people do not go that way. “At any rate, I was very fearful of returning home. I was afraid of my father's wrath when he learned of what had happened. There is no peace anywhere Aragorn, for someone who is afraid to go home. But I need not have feared wrath from my father. He was grieved over the loss of my seven friends. He and the queen tried to console my two remaining companions and me. The queen tended our wounds, then both she and my father left us to go and convey the sad news to the families of my fallen friends. I returned to my chambers where I hoped to be alone to grieve, but it was not to be so. Lindir, returning from the border patrol, had just learned of what had happened. He was filled with rage and sought me out. He is of great build like my father, and when he is not practising the stealth of an elf, he roars like a heard of cattle. I heard him coming and prepared myself for the onslaught. He threw open the great oak door to my chambers and it crashed against the wall. So great was his wrath and the hate in his eyes, that were I not his brother, I would have drawn my blades against him. As it was, I rose and stumbled backward over my chair to get away from him as he advanced upon me. “‘So you have done it!’ he said. “Entrusted to do something as trivial as guard that mongrel and what happens? Not only does the creature escape, but also seven of our best warriors die in the process. Imagine the havoc that would have ensued if father had allowed you to come to Esgaroth during the Battle of Five Armies? Legolas, you are completely worthless! I will never understand why he didn't send you over the sea when he had the chance!’ "My sister Galadra had entered the room without our knowledge," Legolas continued as he slowly turned away from the Ranger. "She was horrified at Lindir's remarks and gasped aloud. ‘Lindir!’ she cried. ‘It is not your place to speak of such things.’ ‘Of what things does he speak?’ I demanded of them both. ‘Why indeed should he not learn the truth from me,’ Lindir began. ‘Father will never tell him. Always he has father’s favor in everything!’ ‘Lindir, I beg you say no more!’ Galadra cried again. ‘Such truths should come from father not you.’” Legolas stood and looked back toward the path taking a few steps away from Aragorn. “I remember looking back and forth between them, Lindir like a raging lion and Galadra like the sweetest angel of the Valar, facing each other. I demanded of them what truth it was that I should learn of. “Lindir turned to me with his hateful eyes and sneered, ‘Do you want to know why I dislike you so much then? Fine, I will tell you! I will tell you why the fair queen sheds her tears alone in the darkness and has closed her doors to our father's affections all these long years. The queen does love you, for it is not in her nature not to love. But her affection for you does not come from attachment. You may be the son of our father, but the Queen of Mirkwood is not your mother!’ ‘Lindir!’ Galadra screamed and covered her mouth. ‘You’re a liar!’ I shouted as I turned and ran out of the room. I could still hear Galadra crying as I ran, and Lindir asking her why she would want to shed her tears for a bastard child like me. I ran for a long while, not really knowing where my feet were taking me until I was there. I had run to the queen's private gardens where she often went in the evening to look at the stars. Sometimes she would stay there all night. It was there that I found her, sitting beside the fountain. She was so fair and beautiful. My heart called out to her and she turned to me. I walked slowly toward her, my eyes so full of tears that the vision of her swam distorted before me. ‘Say it is not true!’ I begged her as I fell to my knees before her. I took her hands in mine and looked up at her through my tears, her face so full of wisdom and grace. She would never lie to me. ‘Say it isn't true!’ I asked again. ‘What my child?’ she asked me. ‘What isn't true?’ ‘Lindir, he came to me, he said.... he told me....’ At last I broke down from my grief, exhaustion and the revelation that my life was perhaps not what I had always thought it to be. I laid my head in her lap and wept. She stroked my hair and remained silent for quite some time. But she perceived my pain, and knew, without my saying anything else, what it was that Lindir had told me. I remember how, when she did finally speak in her calm melodious voice, that her words tore at my soul. ‘Such was not his place to speak of these things to you, Legolas,’ she said. ‘That should have come from your father in whatever time he deemed appropriate to tell you. If indeed he ever told you. It is my belief that he planned to keep the truth from you. He did not see the need for you to know of it.’ "I raised my head to look into her eyes and saw then that my worst fears had come to be," Legolas said with a sigh. “‘So it is true then. You are not my mother!’ ‘Legolas,’ she began. ‘I have cared for you, nursed you at my breast, guided and protected you all the days of your life here. And I love you no less than my own children. I do not look upon you differently. It is true that I did not give birth to you. But to me, you are now, have always been, and will always be my son. Never let the words of your brother come between us.’ ‘But Lindir told me that you cry in the night. He said you have closed the door to our father because of me,’ I told her with a heavy heart. ‘No child, not because of you, but because of me. The sins of your father were caused by my long absence. I had gone to Lothlórien to visit my kin. You are aware that time passes differently in the Golden Wood than it does in other places. I lost track of the days I spent there, and was gone from your father and my children for a very long time. In my absence, your father, in his loneliness took comfort in the arms of a beautiful and very young Silvan girl. She was too much of a child to truly understand the impact of what was asked of her and your father was in despair. When your mother learned that she was with child, she feared, and made plans to take you and her maidens and flee to the havens. She knew that your father would wish to keep you with him and she could not bear to think what would happen if I returned. But your father learned of her plans and had a guard set upon her so that she could not flee with you. Swiftly passed the days of her confinement, until at last, in the early days of spring, in the Greenwood beneath the new leaves at the first light of day, you came into the world. Your sister Galadra drew you forth from your mother, and handed you to your father. He looked out across the groves of fluttering beeches and oaks in the new dawn, and thus named you Legolas. He held you dear to his heart, and dear to his heart you have remained, and ever shall be his little green leaf. Those first few days of your life were spent in peace, but the peace was not to last. For it was my decision at that time to return to Greenwood, as I was beginning to miss my children and my King. I was met at the palace gates by Lindir, and learned from him of all that had befallen in my absence. I was filled with sadness, but the blame I laid upon myself. I sought out your father and confronted him. In the chaos that ensued, your mother decided to take the opportunity to try to flee again with you and her maidens, and slipped out unnoticed from the guards. They fled on horseback toward the western edge of the forest trail. Your father however, learning of her escape, contrived at once to ride hard after her and I went with him. It was my desire to tell your mother that she had no reason to fear me, and that I would never look with rage upon her. She was too young to understand at that time that I bore the blame myself. We overtook your mother at the border and she nearly escaped us. I shudder to think of what might have been if we had missed her completely. Dark would have been our days here without you to lighten them. Your mother for her part knew she could not hope to escape, as she could not make speed upon horseback with an enfant. She turned and rode back to us. Fair and beautiful she was Legolas. ‘Strong is the Silvan blood in me, and it is strong in you as well,’ she said as she softly stroked my face. ‘But stronger is the royal Sindarin blood in your veins. And strong you will always be.’ Your mother, her eyes filled with tears unwrapped you from the blankets, and held you aloft in the light. I remember gasping at the sight of you, as you were so impossibly beautiful for an enfant. You seemed to radiate light. She kissed you upon your tiny brow and with a great heaviness of heart handed you to your father. Then these words she spoke of you, and I have kept them in my heart. ‘Alas my son from me shall be parted. And long shall be his road. But rest at the end he shall find, for great will be his destiny, and he shall walk with the Lord of the White Tree. Then at road’s end, he shall sail at last unto Valinor, and there return to me.’ ‘So spoke your mother, Legolas, and then she turned and rode into the West toward the Havens. Never was she seen or heard from again in Middle Earth. And thus I have raised you as my son. Never doubt yourself, and never doubt my love for you. It matters not what Lindir says. He does not understand. He sees only what he thinks is your father's betrayal of me. He takes his anger out on you. Do not be angry against your father. He hoped you would never learn of this secret. He did so out of a desire to protect you for he loves you greatly.’ “I rose from her and kissed her brow and then turned and made my way back to my now deserted chambers. I lay upon my bed and dwelt in the darkness on all that had befallen me. Oh Aragorn, you can surely understand how distraught I was! I did not know what to do. I knew my father would want word sent to Imladris of Gollum's escape. I felt that since it was my fault, and since my whole world had already been turned upside down in the space of only one long night, what did I have further to lose? I took off my crown and laid it on my bed with a note to my father telling him that I would go to Rivendell, and that I would not return, or wear my crown again, until I felt worthy of it. Then I found my two friends Silende and Finwet, and we took our horses and what supplies we could gather in the gloom before dawn and rode out of the gates. I did not look back.” Aragorn sighed. He knew full well the impact of learning first hand that what you believed was your life and upbringing were not truly as they seemed. He remembered the day when his foster father, Lord Elrond had told him about his destiny. He loathed it and had never wanted that power. But such was his lot in life. "Come my friend," Aragorn said as he rose and placed a hand in comfort upon the elf's shoulder. "Let us not dwell on these things for which we cannot change. You are no less noble in my eyes. And I care not what you call yourself, as long as you call yourself my friend. You have freed yourself of this burden that you carried. Take comfort.” Legolas leaned into the warm embrace of his friend and lay his head upon the Ranger’s shoulder. "Alas my friend Aragorn, there is no comfort for me.” Aragorn sensed that the elf needed more reassurance, and he knew all too well how to give it, for he had given the elf such comfort before on their journeys, and with much success. The Ranger slid his rough calloused hand slowly down the elf's back and gripped his waist, while the other hand traced a path along the fair face of his companion. Aragorn moved slowly and pressed his lips against the soft mouth of the elf gently, easily, he thought. Don't frighten him. Legolas pulled away from the Ranger’s touch. "Not here," the elf said and taking the man's hand in his, began to walk back into the grove of trees from which he had just come. When they had gone only a little way into the grove, Aragorn reached up and took the fair elf by the shoulders, turning him so that they were face to face. "Let me help you, Legolas. Let me take away some of your pain. You know I can if you will only let me.” "Then do as you will," the elf replied and closed his eyes. Aragorn removed his elven cloak and spread it out on the ground, then gently eased the elf down onto it. He slid his hands expertly over the elf's tunic, removing the many buckles and ties that held it together. He desired to see the pale soft skin beneath it. Legolas looked up at Aragorn and opened his beautiful blue eyes. Aragorn gasped at the sight of the elf. Those eyes never ceased to take his breath away, especially when they were wide open and full of trust like they were now. "Aragorn, my truest friend," Legolas whispered. "I am that," the Ranger replied. The elf smiled coyly and pushed the Ranger’s hands away, then standing up to his full height, began to shed his many layers of clothes, never removing those mesmerizing eyes from Aragorn's. The Ranger took the hint and began to remove his clothing as well, although not with quite the same grace as his elven friend. Legolas laughed softly and shook his head, much to the Ranger’s discontent. "What exactly do you find so amusing, elf?” Aragorn asked. "Hairy human!” Legolas answered. "Yes, and you like it that way!” Aragorn growled as he advanced on the elf, drawing them both into a tight embrace. He gripped the back of the elf's head, and brought their mouths together in a searing kiss in which both seemed to fight for dominance. In the end, Legolas yielded, if only for a moment. Aragorn took the opportunity to thoroughly explore the sweet mouth made available to him, his tongue moving in a wicked dance with the elf's. Then without warning he broke the kiss and trailed his lips over the flawless face and along the exposed neck, stopping at the pointed tip of the elf's ear and ghosting his warm breath over it. The almost inaudible moan from Legolas was enough to fuel the Ranger’s growing fire. Legolas tangled his hands in the man's hair, but Aragorn did not seem to notice. The Ranger moved again, this time lowering his mouth to the elf's collar bone to nip and bite gently at it, listening for the sweet sounds that he knew would follow. Taking his time he moved so painfully slowly that he thought he would surely lose his mind. The Ranger slid his hands down the side of the elf's chest and caressed his nipples with the roughened tips of his fingers before suddenly taking one into his mouth. Aragorn bit down hard, and received as his reward a strangled cry from the elf, whose hands tangled ever tighter in the Ranger’s hair. But the elf remained not passive. He released his hold on the man's hair and slid his hands down Aragorn’s back to grip the firmly muscled buttocks of the Ranger. He pulled Aragorn closer to him, bringing their fully aroused members in contact with each other, and began to grind against the man without restraint. "Gods Legolas, you will be the death of me,” Aragorn sighed as he moved his mouth across the elf's chest to give the other taunt nipple the same treatment. With his free hand he reached down and gripped the elf's arousal tightly. "You tease, Ranger!” Legolas responded breathlessly as he slid his finger down the cleft of the man's buttocks. "That is a dangerous thing to do to an elf." The finger circled Aragon's tight opening. "You should know your peril," the elf growled as the tip of the invading finger barely penetrated the man’s body. Aragorn moaned and attempted to move away from the elf's intrusion, but found himself held fast and hard by the slightly stronger Legolas. "You will find the tables turning against you I think," Legolas said, his eyes glazing over and becoming almost predatory as he suddenly thrust his finger inside the Ranger and ground roughly against him. Aragorn cried out with both pleasure and pain, and suddenly found himself flat on his back with no inclination as to how he had gotten there. Legolas stood over him, dark and demanding, and Aragorn knew at once what his role would be in this foray. Well so be it then, the Ranger thought. I can endure whatever is needed to give him what he desires. Legolas reached down and gripped his straining elfhood in one hand. Keeping his eyes locked with the Ranger’s, he began to slowly stroke himself, watching Aragorn's reaction. The elf lowered his head, looking menacing through half lidded eyes, hungry with need, and Aragorn was struck at that moment with the severity of his situation. Though the elf looked frail, he was strong; though he looked young, he was ancient and wise; though he looked beautiful and fair, he was dangerous, very dangerous. And Aragorn above all men, knew the risks of provoking elvish anger. "Do you want this?” the elf asked, continuing to look menacingly down at the Ranger. "If this is what I want, are you willing?” Legolas asked as he kept his eyes locked with Aragorn's. "Yes,” Aragorn breathed. "For you, anything. I would do anything you asked of me!" "Taste me,” Legolas whispered huskily at the Ranger. Aragorn knew by the elf's tone that it was not a request, but a demand. "As you wish,” Aragorn replied, and with one last glance up at his elven friend, the exiled King of Gondor moistened his lips and replaced Legolas’ hand with his willing mouth. The elf's eyes fluttered closed. "Ah yes," he moaned. "Make me forget,” he said as he clutched the Ranger’s head in his hands and thrust inside his mouth. Neither elf nor man seemed aware of the slight movement in the bushes nearby. Neither saw the look of surprise that passed over the face of the young horse lord. Neither saw how quickly that same look of surprise was replaced with desire, and then with unbridled lust as Éomer watched the scene unfolding before him. He had followed Aragorn at a distance into the pine glade. He had overheard the conversation between elf and Ranger, and had then once again followed at a safe distance to where he was now concealed to watch in silence, the coupling only a few feet away from him. It had not escaped his notice how the elf had skillfully turned the tables on his friend, and had thus maintained control not only of his passion, but of his emotion as well. He hides behind the mask of control, thought Éomer. I will break that mask. As the young horse lord formed a plan in his mind to do just that, he knew he could easily slip away, but desired to remain and watch the spectacle continuing in front of him, for it was far too arousing to simply walk away from. Aragorn had increased the speed with which his skillful mouth and tongue were working as one to bring the elf to the edge. Legolas suddenly released his hold on the man's head and pushed against Aragorn’s shoulders. The Ranger looked up questioningly at the elf. "What is wrong my friend? Did I not please you?” Aragorn asked, a look of concern passing over his rugged features. Legolas reached down and took the Ranger’s hand, then lead them to a nearby tree. The elf then turned the man to face the tree and roughly pushed him against it. The tough bark of the tree bit into Aragorn's exposed flesh and he drew a sharp intake of breath. No finesse this elf, but then, where passion was concerned, Legolas had never had finesse. Must get that from his father, Aragorn snickered to himself. All rational thought fled the Ranger’s head as the elf's knee forced its way roughly between Aragorn's thighs, and the man gasped as a warm wet tongue found his neck and slithered snake-like toward his ear lobe. "Do you like this Aragorn?” the elf asked, his voice husky against the Ranger’s ear. “Do you like being the one who gives me comfort?” "I do not think this is giving any comfort to you!” the Ranger cried out as the elf ground him roughly against the tree. "I merely provide an outlet for your anger. Just someone for you to pound out your frustration on. So be it. And if that is how I am to help you, then yes, I do like it," Aragorn sighed, as he turned his head to the side and faced the beautiful elf who smiled predatorily at him. Legolas brought his fingertips to Aragorn’s lips and pushed them inside. The man responded by sucking greedily on the elf's slender fingers. Their eyes locked together, neither looking away, Legolas obviously enjoying the sensation as his elfhood throbbed in unsated desire against the Ranger’s inner thighs. Legolas pulled his fingers free of the man's mouth and replaced them with his tongue as he moved the now thoroughly lubricated fingers to Aragorn's tight entrance, circling teasingly for only a moment before he pushed them roughly inside and once again, the Ranger cried out his pain and pleasure, but the sound was muffled by the sweet elven mouth that covered his, and the tongue that warred with his own. Aragorn felt his knees go weak and was glad for the tree against which he was crushed by the elf, for without it, he would have fallen to the ground. "Do you like that Aragorn?” Legolas asked again as his fingers continued their rough intrusion. "Yes, ah yes," Aragorn moaned, his own swollen member rubbing agonizingly against the rough bark of the tree. “Give me what I want!” Legolas demanded against Aragorn's sensitive ear. “What do you want?” Aragorn asked breathlessly. “I want your complete and total submission now, and always!” the elf whispered against the man’s ear. “Then you shall have it," the Ranger replied, and with these words, felt the sharp withdrawal of the elf's fingers and prepared himself for that which he knew was coming. The elven Prince gripped Aragorn's arms to hold him steady and looked over the man's shoulder, desiring to see the face of his friend. Then with one swift movement, he impaled himself in the impossibly tight clenching heat. Éomer who watched from his hiding place, was taken aback at the elf's brutality. Why does he treat Aragorn this way, he wondered. And why does Aragorn let him? Éomer had seen both man and elf fight at the Hornburg and had been astounded by their prowess and blood lust, but he had also seen them both share quiet moments with their companions, smiles, and comforting words. Had not the elf only minutes ago emptied his heart and unburdened himself to his friend who he was now, for all intensive purposes, treating like a piece of worthless trash? Such a paradox! He does this so he won't have to face what he fears, Éomer thought. He fears to be loved, as those whom he loved before betrayed his trust. He uses passion for what it is, but refuses love. Why can Aragorn not see this? Why does he not turn, throw the elf to the ground and show him how much he loves him instead of allowing himself to be so used? Éomer continued to watch in stunned silence as the lurid scene continued. The elf's thrusts were so rough that Aragorn's breath was knocked from him and always the eyes of the elf were upon him, watching his face, that face which was now contorted in a mixture of searing pain and pleasure. Harder and harder the elf forced himself against the Ranger. “Feel me!” the elf hissed against the man's ear. "I am a Prince and a warrior! I am strong and courageous, fearless and skillful. I am worthy of my title and my crown. I am a Prince!" The elf continued his relentless assault on his friend as he shouted these desperate words into the air, shouting them not at Aragorn, but at those who were far away. Those who had hurt him and betrayed him. Those whose respect and admiration he most wanted. Legolas cried out his release as he collapsed against the man and held onto the shoulders of his friend for support. “I am a Prince,” he whispered almost tearfully against the Ranger’s shoulder, then fell to his knees on the bed of brightly colored leaves below, a stark contrast to the darkness in his heart. Aragorn recovered himself and moved rather stiffly to join his elven friend, but Legolas pushed his hand away when the Ranger tried to touch his shoulder. “Go away!” the elf shouted as he drew his knees up and wrapped his strong arms around them, his golden hair falling like a curtain around him. "I don't want your pity!” Aragorn stood up to go, then turned swiftly back and grabbed a handful of golden hair, jerking the elf's head back and looking into the tear filled eyes. “I will endure your anger. But when this is over, things will change and I will make you pay me back for all that I have endured for you!” With that, the Ranger crushed his mouth against the elf's and took his revenge with a rough, forceful kiss, then released the elf's hair and turned away. After dressing swiftly, the man strode off through the pines toward the encampment. Legolas watched the Ranger’s retreating form, then rose and dressed himself. Éomer remained motionless until the elf was out of sight, then stepped out into the clearing and looked around, the vision of what he had just witnessed still vivid in his mind. Chapter Three Months had passed since the downfall of Sauron and the end of his realm. Months had passed since the battle of the Pelennor fields. Éomer stood upon the outer wall of Minas Tirith and gazed over the rolling plain, now busy with traffic coming and going, where only such a short time ago, blood and battle had ruled. The hammers of the stonemasons under the instruction of Gimli the dwarf, could be heard repairing the outer wall. Mithril silver had been brought by Gimli's cousins from the newly re-opened Khazad-Dûm, and with it they had built the most beautiful and magnificent gate to the city, to replace the fallen one. Éomer looked across the Anduin upon the ruins of Osgiliath, the Citadel of the Stars, where Faramir had gone with Éowyn, Éomer's sister, to begin rebuilding the city that was to be his Princedom. Everywhere change and change is good, thought the newly crowned King of Rohan. But some people never change. Éomer turned and walked the long length of the outer battlement as he returned through the ways of the city to the Tower of Ecthelion. He was greeted warmly there by the Tower Guard and allowed entrance. Éomer wandered through the marble halls alone. The Fellowship of the Ring had remained, and for now, broken into separate little groups within the greater whole. The four hobbits stayed, for the most part with Gandalf, pestering him with endless questions, though he didn't seem to mind. Gimli was far too busy with the repairs about the city, and Aragorn was often consumed with the affairs of state. He had become somewhat distant and distracted as of late though Éomer knew not why. It was then that a glint of gold caught the eye of the young house lord. Legolas, of course. Legolas in all his splendor. Éomer had never had the chance to try his plan. He had never had another opportunity to try and break the icy composure of the elf and breach the wall between them. Well, he thought, no time like the present for re-opening old wounds. Éomer walked along the hall until he came to the archway through which he had seen the fair elf pass. He found himself in a large, open room with a vaulted ceiling. Legolas stood against the outer wall looking out over the gardens below. "Greetings fair one!” Éomer called as he quickly closed the distance between them. “How does the day find you?” Although the elf did not turn away from the window, he at least made answer to the question. "I am fine, Éomer. And yourself?” Legolas asked. "I am well,” Éomer answered. “I would have some companionship, but it seems everyone is too busy.” “What is the matter?” Legolas asked, turning toward Éomer. Éomer was struck by the way the sun played so beautifully in the elf's large, blue eyes and long dark lashes. He marveled at the almost transparent, flawless pale skin that appeared so soft. Aragorn would know how soft, he thought with amusement, and yet hard as steel. Éomer softened his tone and lowered his eyes. "We began at odds with each other, Legolas,” he said. “I would have us become friends, that is of course, if you are willing.” "I am willing," Legolas replied. "I was wrong to doubt your friendship, and you had every right to think we were spies with so much stress and strain on us in those dark days. It was no wonder." "Ah well, the past is the past," Éomer replied. "Come my friend, and walk with me. Show me some fair sights of the city.” They spent the morning together and took their noon meal in the gardens. After they had finished eating, Legolas turned toward Éomer and regarded the young lord for a moment before he spoke. "I usually retire to my chamber in the afternoon to rest," Legolas said, then hesitated for a moment as if unsure how to proceed. "If you like, you could join me. There is plenty of room there. Gimli often keeps me company....” The elf trailed off as if suddenly distracted. "I would be honored to share your chamber for a rest," Éomer replied as he fought to contain the vivid images that had begun to race through his head, images of the fair elf laid out in all his glory upon a fine canopied bed with his golden hair spilling out over the pillows, his head thrown back, his eyes closed. Just as Éomer had seen him once before, though not in such splendid surroundings. Éomer felt the flush creep over his face at the thought of that day, of what he had heard, and what he had witnessed from his hiding place in the pine groves of Dunharrow. Such thoughts will not help me, he thought ruefully, and quickened his pace to keep up with the elf before him. Legolas' chambers were just as splendid as Éomer had known they would be: fine solid oak furnishings, opaque curtains fluttering at the open windows, and a large ornate canopy bed, carved with vines, birds and flowers, much like what he probably slept on at his home in Mirkwood, thought Éomer. The King of Gondor had gone to much trouble to see that his elvish friend was comfortable and felt at home here. Éomer became distracted with thoughts of Legolas sleeping in that fine bed, bathed in firelight. “Éomer?” Legolas’ voice startled the young King of Rohan back to reality with a jolt, as Éomer turned in surprise toward the somewhat confused looking elf who now regarded him with a strange expression. "I am sorry. Forgive me, Legolas. Did you say something to me? My thoughts were far away.” Éomer fumbled with his words and felt rather embarrassed though the elf had not really given him any reason to feel that way. "I only invited you to come in so I could shut the door," Legolas replied. "I see,” Éomer said, as he calmly walked into the room. The heavy oak door creaked on its antique hinges and closed with an echo that seemed to Éomer like the bars of an iron cage shutting around him. Éomer could hear the elf's steady breathing behind him as Legolas moved closer. "Is there something you wish to tell me, Éomer?” The elf's question took the King of Rohan by surprise. "What...what do you mean?” Éomer stammered. Legolas moved yet closer, and the horse lord could feel the elf's breath ghost against his neck. "Something... perhaps you would like to confess?” Legolas moved to stand in front of Éomer and looked the young king directly in the eye. “Confess?....I don't know what you are talking about!” Éomer tried to sound stern and commanding. "Your voice lacks the conviction of your words, horse lord!” Legolas hissed. "You are not as good a liar as you are a voyeur!” Éomer stared in shock at Legolas as if the elf had orcs crawling out of his ears. So he had known all along that Éomer had been watching. Gods, how could I have been so foolish! Eomer thought. Of course the elf would have sensed it. Éomer took a step back as Legolas advanced upon him with that same predatory look that he had once seen upon the elf's face when he bore down upon the King of Gondor. Control, thought Eomer, you must maintain control. He is trying to force your hand, don't let him! Remember your plan, stick to your plan and you can beat him. Éomer drew himself up to his full height and faced the elf. "Yes, I was there that day. I saw and heard what passed between the two of you. I meant no offense. I only followed Aragorn because I knew he was looking for you, and I wanted to learn why it is that you despise me so much." "No offense indeed!” Legolas shouted, his indigo eyes darkening to black. “Sneaking around in the woods after people, listening and watching what should have been private moments between two people. I do not think that a man who does such things means no offense!” Éomer took a deep breath and cleared his throat as he prepared to say the only words that came to his mind. "If you knew I was there, then why did you not speak?” “It would have upset Aragorn to know you were there, to know you had seen him in that predicament,” Legolas answered, his voice softening slightly as his eyes clouded over with memories of that day at Dunharrow. "And he would not have been in that predicament if you hadn't put him there?” Éomer stated firmly as he now, in his turn, advanced upon the elf. Legolas took a step back, but held his determined stance, his eyes flashing in anger as he faced the horse lord. "You know nothing of us, of our friendship. It goes far back, beyond all that has come to pass here. It is strong and true!” Legolas shouted, his voice rising an octave in anger. "Indeed,” Éomer replied, "and yet you continue to treat him so cruelly, as if he were nothing more to you than just a place to stick your pretty cock!" If Éomer was startled by the boldness of his own words, then Legolas was literally enraged by them. The elf tore at the young king in fury wishing to physically throw him out of his chambers, regretting having ever invited him in, and regretting being the one to bring up the subject in the first place. "Get out of my room!” Legolas shouted as he clutched at Éomer and tried to push him toward the door. But Éomer was expecting the lunge and reached up to grab Legolas by the arms. He lifted the seemingly weightless elf off the floor and held the Prince tightly against his chest. He could feel the futile struggles and the wild beating of the elf's heart as he thrashed around in Éomer’s arms like a trapped animal. The elf's long golden hair flinging about and brushing feather-like across Éomer’s face was a momentary distraction. Éomer squeezed the elf tighter, until Legolas, nearly breathless from lack of air, stopped struggling. "Let me go!” Legolas protested. "You are the one who has wronged me, and not I you.” "Silence!” Eomer hissed into the elf's pointed ear. “You need to learn that the longer you lend yourself to despair and grief, the longer will your friends and he whom you most love, suffer with you. He wants your love, your affection, your companionship, not your rage and anger. He bears these things because he loves you so. He wants to see you healed and he thinks this is the only way. I know better.” “Let me go!” Legolas shouted again as he renewed his struggles and brought his head forward, striking Éomer hard on the nose, causing it to bleed. "Enough of this!” Éomer said and dragged the kicking, struggling elf across the room to fling him face down upon the bed. Éomer then jumped astride the elf and drove his knees into Legolas lower back to hold him still while he pinned the elf's hands together on the pillow above his head, covering them with his own. He held the vainly struggling elf this way until at last, exhausted by his struggles, Legolas lay still. "Why do you treat me so?” Legolas asked, his voice masked with anger, but threatening on the verge of tears. "I wish to help you, both you and Aragorn,” Éomer replied. "I would show you that there is another way, if you would let me." Éomer took his knees off of the elf's back and moved to sit beside him on the bed, still holding tightly to Legolas’ hands as he did so. "Turn over!” Éomer commanded. "You do not control me!” Legolas said, his voice somewhat muffled from the pillow. "Not yet perhaps” Éomer said softly, then added confidently, "but I shall! Now turn over, or I will remove my belt and thoroughly chastise you with it. I promise you that it will not be to your liking, for though you seem more than able to inflict pain on others, you are none to willing to accept it yourself.” "Leave me alone, please!” came the still-muffled voice of the elf from below, but Éomer would not be dissuaded. "I will say it only one more time. Now turn over!” Éomer commanded. Legolas turned slowly onto his back, mindful of his hands still pinned by the horse lord above his head. The fair elf kept his face turned away from Éomer, but the young king could see the tears standing in the elf's bright eyes and felt almost moved to pity, but he knew what he did was necessary. He had to show the elf that pain and mistrust could be overcome, that he could reach the light on the other side, that he could love once again. Éomer brought his lips close to Legolas’ ear and whispered: "Play this game with me, and you shall see. Trust me and close your eyes.” Legolas was all too quick to comply, for with his eyes closed, he could pretend he was far away, somewhere else. Éomer placed both of the elf's wrists together in one of his strong hands and held them taunt as he removed his belt with the other hand, and used it to bind the elf's hands to the headboard. Now with his hands free, Éomer sat up, and moved to kneel astride the elf's narrow hips. Éomer paused a moment and took the opportunity to grind his growing erection against the elf who was captive beneath him. Legolas gasped in horror and turned his head further away. Éomer smiled and leaned down to place his full lips only inches away from the elf's sensitive ear. "Imagine I am him, imagine I am Aragorn," Éomer whispered into the pointed tip. "You will never be Aragorn!” Legolas shouted and renewed his struggles once more, but Éomer silenced him with a strong hand placed over the elf's mouth. "I could gag you, but would rather not, as I can think of much better uses for your pretty mouth,” Éomer said. "Now keep your eyes and mouth closed, and do as I say. Imagine I am Aragorn. Imagine that what I am doing to you, he is doing to you. Imagine that it is his hands upon you, his mouth upon your skin." Éomer's tongue darted out to lick at the pointed tip of the elf's ear. "Imagine that it is his manhood that fills you.” “No!” Legolas cried out and fought against his bonds like a wild thing, his struggles only serving to further arouse the King of Rohan. Éomer tightened his knees on either side of the struggling elf's thighs as Legolas desperately tried to free himself. "You have never been on this side of the game, have you, fair one? You have never been the one to submit, but now you shall. Since you still refuse to behave, I will have to punish you, and I think I may have to gag you after all." "No, please no!” Legolas cried. “I will do as you ask.” Éomer rose and moved off the bed. He opened the top drawer of the tall wardrobe next to the bed. "What are you doing going through my things?” Legolas asked, watching with extreme interest as the King of Rohan rummaged through the contents of the drawer. But Éomer did not answer. He returned to sit on the side of the bed with the items he needed. He had taken two silk sashes used by Legolas as belts for his tunics. One Éomer bound over the elf's eyes, and the other he tied tightly across Legolas’ mouth, effectively gagging him. "Now pretty one, you will do as I say. I am not Éomer. I am Aragorn Elessar, the King of Gondor and your friend. I will now have my way since it seems that only by force will you surrender to me.” Legolas lay still and did not move. Éomer stood and walked around to the foot of the bed, and tugged the elf's boots off one by one, then climbed up over the foot of the bed and straddled the bound elf once again. Éomer took a small dagger out of his front pocket and used it to deftly slice through the ties on Legolas’ silk tunic, then cut the material up along each one of the elf's bound arms. Éomer then grasped the shirt and tore it away from the elf, tossing it onto the floor. Legolas tried to protest against the gag, but the sound came forth as little more than a muffled sob. “Ah yes!” Éomer said. "Such wonderful things for the King of Gondor, such pretty things for Aragorn to play with, and what shall he do first with his new toy?" Éomer grasped the band of Legolas’ dark blue leggings, and moving to one side of the elf whispered teasingly, “Let us see what we may find beneath these.” He roughly pulled the leggings down and added them to the pile of clothes on the floor. Éomer stood once again to admire the full view of his handiwork and the beautiful elf laid out before him. “Ah yes, my pretty one, there is only one thing more that I need, and I know I will not find it here,” Éomer said as he walked slowly around the bed, knowing fully that Legolas could hear his movements, and feeling the tension coming from the elf thick in the room around him. He reached over and trailed his fingertips slowly down the elf's chest. "Stay here Legolas, I will return soon.” Legolas heard Éomer's heavy footfalls moving away toward the door, he heard the door open, and then close, and the footsteps fading away down the hallway outside. Legolas began to struggle against the bonds holding his hands. His legs were free, but what use were they without his hands? He thrashed his head from side to side trying in vain to free his head and mouth from the silken sashes that bound them, but to no use. At last he lay still. Tears wet the blindfold as he fought for control of his emotions. Here he lay, helpless on his own bed. Éomer surely meant to do harm to him, and how could he have been so foolish as to believe that Éomer was sincere? But perhaps, the bitterest part of all for the elf was the knowledge that he had brought it upon himself by asking the young king if he "wanted to confess anything". Oh, how Legolas regretted that question. Meanwhile Éomer rushed through the halls of the tower. There was one vital thing missing that he must have before he could continue his game with the elf, only one thing more, and Éomer was fairly certain that he knew where to go to find that thing. How much time had passed Legolas knew not. He lay in silence listening in vain for the approach of footfalls that would alert him to Éomer’s return. Lindir was right Legolas thought, I am truly worth very little, if I can allow myself to be bested by a mere man. But Legolas knew better, for Éomer, like Aragorn was a king, and neither was just a mere man. Worn out from his struggles, the elf had fallen asleep, but the sound of the opening door startled him to wakefulness. He stiffened and turned his head toward the sound. "Ah yes, here is my pretty elf, just where I left him," Éomer said. "I was gone longer than I planned to be searching for that which I needed, for it eluded me. But now I have retrieved it and we can continue where we left off.” Legolas heard the unmistakable sound of clothes being shed and felt the weight of Éomer’s descent on the bed next to him. Although the elf could not be certain, he had the distinct feeling that something was amiss. "Now my Prince, what shall we do? What will Aragorn do with his pretty slave?" Legolas remained passive as Éomer’s calloused hands trailed over his chest, as the thumbs brushed over his sensitive nipples. His hands are like Aragorn's, Legolas thought, but the young horse lord's voice returned close to the elf's ear, so close in fact, that Legolas could feel Éomer’s breath ghost across his exposed neck. "What do you like, pretty one? Oh, your Aragorn knows, doesn't he? Oh how he has so longed to have you at his command, to do with as he pleases.” Éomer’s hands descended lower and roughly pushed the elf's thighs apart. Legolas tried to draw a sharp breath, but the gag in his mouth prevented him from doing so. "Can we perhaps take this off now?” Éomer asked. Legolas nodded his head and with a slice of Éomer’s dagger, the silk fell away from his mouth. The elf took several deep breaths. "What do you say, fair one?” Éomer asked. "Thank you," Legolas whispered. "Whom do you thank?” Éomer asked. "You," the elf replied. "And who am I?” Éomer asked. "King Éomer ,” Legolas replied, his voice shaking uncontrollably. "No, not Éomer. I told you, I am Aragorn. Now, who do you thank?” Éomer asked once again. Legolas’ face was wet with tears that streamed from beneath the blindfold. He gasped for air and tried to control the emotions welling up within him. At long last, he gave himself over to the game. “Aragorn, I thank Aragorn!” he cried out and broke into uncontrollable sobbing, hating himself for his forced helplessness, and hating Éomer for his control. "Yes, Aragorn, your Aragorn,” Éomer whispered as he brushed the elf's tears away. Legolas felt Éomer’s weight shift upon the bed and then a warm mouth pressed gently but firmly against his own, as a warm hand wrapped itself around his elfhood, and began to slowly stroke him. The elf was tired, tired of being angry and sad and lonely, tired of feeling guilt over what he had done to Aragorn. He did not try to fight the sensations overwhelming him, but instead gave himself over to them. He closed his eyes beneath the blindfold and opened his mouth to the kiss. Gods! Legolas thought. He is so like Aragorn! No, you just want him to be. You would never surrender like this to Aragorn. The elf wrestled with his own contradicting thoughts about the King of Gondor as the hard, warm, unrelenting mouth took his breath away, and the pace of the hand stroking his now fully aroused member quickened. Legolas moaned helplessly into the mouth that kissed him. That same greedy mouth then left his and began to trail very slowly down his neck and chest, leaving bite marks as it went. That same mouth then bit down hard enough on his taunt nipples to draw blood, but quickly soothed the pain with tender kisses. Legolas’ hands struggled against the bonds that held them over his head. He wanted to be free to explore the body that was pressed against him, to touch as he was being touched. Legolas became aware in his struggles, of that wicked mouth moving lower and lower over his body, then without warning, engulfing his straining member in one swift movement. Legolas cried out in his native tongue as the mouth upon him brought him to the very brink of ecstasy, then suddenly and cruelly stopped. He felt the weight on the bed next to him moving upwards and his mouth was once again taken in a brutal kiss. Gods, he even tastes like Aragorn, Legolas thought. Are all mortal men so alike? Éomer’s voice returned as the kiss was broken. "As you once asked of your Aragorn, so he now asks of you." Éomer’s hand tightened against the back of the elf's head and drew it forward. "Taste me!" Legolas felt as if all the blood in his body was draining as he remembered that day, those words. Words he had spoken so coldly to Aragorn. When he felt the pressure of Éomer’s now fully aroused manhood pressing against his mouth, he relented and opened to receive it. He felt the strain in his jaw as Éomer held his head firmly, and he was forced to take the young king deep within his throat, each thrust hard enough to nearly gag the elf. This is how it feels to Aragorn, Legolas thought. How used he must feel when I do this to him. Legolas felt tears coming to his eyes as he struggled against the pain in his jaw, the sensation of being gagged and the difficulty drawing breath. Then just as suddenly as it had begun, it was over, and Éomer withdrew. Legolas felt the weight shift again, and without warning the mouth descended upon his throbbing elfhood once again with slight flicks of the tongue and nips from skilled teeth. The elf lost all control and heard his own voice, though it sounded alien to him. "Please, please!” Legolas heard himself begging. "Please what?” Éomer asked. “Please stop, or please more? Do you think you can take it little elf?” "Yes, yes!” Legolas cried. "Yes, what?” Éomer asked teasingly. “More! Please more!” Legolas shouted. “To whom do you beg, Legolas?” Éomer asked. "To you I beg!” Legolas replied in growing frustration. "Yes, but who am I?” Éomer asked yet again. Legolas bit his lip in momentary hesitation, and as if to take advantage of the elf's resistance, the teasing mouth returned its agonizing treatment, and moved yet lower to inflict teasing circles against his balls that drew instantly upward toward his throbbing cock. "Please Éomer, don't torture me!” Legolas cried. "That is not the answer!” Éomer replied. Legolas felt his legs being lifted and placed one at a time, over Éomer’s strong shoulders, but something felt different, not quite right.... familiar, was it? Before Legolas could ponder further what exactly it was that he thought it could be, a strong hand wrapped itself around his straining member and that hateful mouth returned to torment him. A new sensation suddenly overwhelmed him, as he felt a tongue, warm and wet pressing against the tight and unused entrance to his body. His eyes flew open beneath the blindfold. In all his long years, never before had he been so used, he thought, as that tongue moved so possessively where he had never before allowed anyone to touch him. Oh Aragorn, how I wish it were thee, the elf thought ruefully. It should be Aragorn, and not Éomer, he mused as guilt over the pleasure he received consumed him. Legolas cried out in both pleasure and surprise as the tongue pressed against, then penetrated him. "Aragorn, Gods Aragorn! I need you! Please, I need you!” Legolas cried out in frustration and unfulfilled need. The hand around his cock began to pump him faster, and the tongue continued its merciless intrusion. Then both the tongue and the hand pleasuring him were gone and he felt the body against him move. He felt his knees flexed back against his chest and the pressure of something hard and unrelenting against him. He felt one, then two fingers enter him and he tensed against the pain, as he was not used to such an invasion. "Relax,” Éomer’s voice came almost soft against the elf's pointed ear. "Relax, don't fight it and it will go easier for you.” Legolas tried to do so, as the fingers invading him struck agonizingly slowly over and over that sweet spot deep within him. Then just as the fair elf thought that he could take no more, Éomer’s voice returned. "You remain silent, little prince. Do you not want this?” the young horse lord asked. The fingers left his body and he felt oil, slick and warm, being spread over and around his too tight opening. "What do you want, Legolas?” Éomer asked, his voice so close to the elf's ear. How can this be? Legolas thought. How is it that I hear his voice so close to my ear? How can he move so quickly from one position to another? Why do I not feel his movements? But the elf had no time to further ponder the situation as the voice of Éomer returned once again. "I ask again, do you want this?” Éomer’s voice drew Legolas back to reality. "Yes, yes, I want this!” Legolas cried out, surprising even himself with the revelation of his desire. "Then you shall have it!” Éomer replied and Legolas felt his whole world explode in a myriad of sensations. The worst pain he had ever known was suddenly mingled with the most intense pleasure imaginable as he struggled against the hard cock that impaled him. Over and over, deep thrusts lifted the lithe body of the elf off the bed. "Ah yes, my prince!” Éomer’s voice so close that Legolas could feel warm breath ghost across his cheek. “Do you like this?” "Yes!” Legolas gasped breathlessly. "But you are thinking of him, aren’t you?” Éomer asked. "You are thinking of Aragorn and how you betray him.” “I do not betray him!” Legolas protested. “Yes, you do betray him,” Éomer replied as the elf felt the depth and ferocity of the thrusts increase. "No!” Legolas cried. “I do not betray him, I.... I... I love him! I need him! I wish it was him and not you that does this to me!” Legolas cried as emotions overtook him, and he realized that it was only Aragorn that he wanted, only Aragorn that he loved. “Gods please Aragorn, I need you! I just need you!” “Then you shall have me!” Legolas froze. That voice was not Éomer’s. It belonged to only one man. It belonged to Aragorn. The blindfold was suddenly removed, and Legolas looked up blinking in the light to see Éomer, fully clothed, sitting beside him on the bed, smiling down at the elf. But as Legolas looked down over his own body, he beheld that which he had most longed to see. There was his Aragorn, looking back at him and thrusting deeply within him taking him, claiming him. Of course Aragorn had been there all along. The strange feeling of something amiss that Legolas had experienced earlier, was simply his own elvish senses telling him something that in his own mind, he had refused to hear. Aragorn had entered the room with the horse lord, and Legolas had not heard his footsteps as the Ranger could walk with the stealth of an elf when he chose to do so. Legolas had not heard, because he did not really want to hear. "Aragorn!” Legolas cried. "Yes, I am here", Aragorn replied. "Gods please, please Aragorn!” Legolas voice wavering on the edge as he struggled against his bonds, completely overcome with desire and need. "I love you!” Legolas cried out as he looked into Aragorn's eyes. "Yes, I know my sweet prince,” Aragorn responded. Éomer smiled and brushed Legolas’ golden hair away from the fair elf's face, then gently kissed the sweaty brow. "You see he loves you. Can you feel him inside you? He takes you so completely.” "Yes, I feel him,” Legolas whispered. "Give yourself to him,” Éomer said. "I am his!” Legolas cried out in Sindarin. "You are mine!” Aragorn replied in the same tongue, and with once last intense thrust, lost himself within his elf. He was rewarded with the sound of Legolas crying out his own pleasure and felt the elf's seed spill between them. Éomer smiled down at both of them, then rose and walked slowly out of the room. As he closed the door behind him, he laughed to himself. Sometimes the best-laid plans of men do really come to fruition. As for tomorrow? Well, we shall see what tomorrow brings! Finis 1