The Best Laid Plans
Chapter 4
Author: elfprincess911@yahoo.com
Pairing: Legolas/Eomer/Aragorn
Rating: NC17
Warnings: The usual ones
Feedback: Please
Disclaimer: Don’t own 'em, never will
Summary: Read the first 3 chapters, then you’ll understand. The story 
goes on!
Archive: If ya want, but please ask first!
Special thanks to my wonderful Beta Reader Menel.  She is now, and 
always will be the best!!!

     The young King of Rohan checked his horse to a stop, and paused to 
look around.  It was a lovely day.  A soft, warm wind blew against his 
face, and through his unruly, long, golden hair.  The sunlight glittered 
brightly through the wafting leaves of oaks and beeches. Elvish country 
for certain, thought Éomer, as he shifted his weight in the saddle.  He had 
ridden easily, and rather slowly, for the last two days, taking his time to 
enjoy the quiet forest of Ithilien.  He had journeyed here before with King 
Elessar, but never alone, and never without an escort.  Ah well, he laughed 
to himself, it is convenient that Ithilien is the last stop on my “diplomatic” 
journey.

     Of course, the true reason behind this trip was most certainly not 
diplomatic, but Eomer could not have explained that to his advisors at 
Meduseld.  He had convinced them that he wished to visit briefly with 
King Elessar, then spend a few days in Osgiliath with his sister Éowyn, 
and her husband Faramir, the Steward of Gondor, finishing  lastly, with a 
short stop in the realm of Prince Legolas, who was now the ruler of the 
colony of elves dwelling in the northern forest of Ithilien. 

     Éomer longed to see the fair Elven Prince again.  It had been nearly a 
year since he had played out his little game with Legolas and Aragorn in 
Minas Tirith.  Nearly a year, since he had forced them both to face their 
true feelings, and embrace their love for each other without hostility or 
hidden aggressions.  A year was too long a time to be apart from such 
exquisite company.  

     He spoke softly to his horse and urged it onward.  He could almost feel 
the eyes of the march wardens of Ithilien upon him as he passed, though 
they remained hidden from sight and made no sound.  They did nothing to 
hinder his passing. They knew full well whom he was, and that their lord 
was expecting him.  Try as he might Éomer could not catch even so much 
as a glimpse of the elves concealed in the trees around him and, tiring of 
this cat and mouse game that he knew he was losing, he continued on 
through the forest toward the hidden dwellings of the elves.
      
     Prince Legolas had been looking forward to this visit for a long time.  
He had even considered preparing a banquet with singing, dancing, and all 
the trappings of a magnificent feast.  But in the end, he had decided 
against it, as he knew that Éomer would prefer to keep things quiet and 
private. For Legolas, quiet and private would suffice just fine.  

The fair Prince of Elves stood now upon the stone balcony looking out 
over the hidden falls.  Gimli and a group of dwarves had come to the caves 
behind the falls, and carved out a beautiful palace dwelling place Legolas 
and his company.  It was much like the palace in Mirkwood, where 
Legolas had lived with his father, King Thranduil.  Legolas had chosen as 
his own private bedchamber, the large room overlooking the falls.  This 
grand chamber was outfitted with a large stone balcony, the railing of 
which, was carved in the likeness of a tree bough, with many leaves and 
branches upon it.  From this grand balcony, the elven prince could watch, 
concealed by the leaves of beeches, the arrival of his long awaited guest.

     Almost as if on cue, Éomer appeared, coming slowly up the trail 
toward the caves.  Legolas smiled and withdrew into his room to prepare 
to meet his friend. At that moment, the sound of urgent steps and an abrupt 
knock upon the door of his chamber alerted the prince that others were 
aware of Éomer’s arrival.

     “Prince Legolas,” a fair voice called from the hall. “The King of Rohan 
has arrived".  Legolas opened the door to a flustered looking servant.

     “Go and see that he is welcomed.  Show him to his room, and tell him 
that once he is refreshed, I would be honored if he would care to join me 
in my chambers.”

     The servant bowed, and hurried away leaving Legolas alone.  He felt 
strangely nervous, and was reminded how, the last time he had been alone 
with the young king, he had found himself completely at the mercy of the 
mortal man.  Or men, Legolas thought, as he smiled and laughed aloud.  
No need to fear what you really long for foolish elf, he thought to himself.  
This time it will be my turn to make the rules!

     Éomer rode into the clearing just below the falls and looked up in 
surprise.  He had heard that the dwelling place of the elves was quite 
astounding to see, but nothing that he had been told prepared him for what 
he now beheld.  

     The entrance to the hidden caves was most certainly no longer secret.  
The falls had been diverted into two separate cascades that curtained a 
grand archway, through which entrance was gained into the cave palace 
beyond.  Éomer stared in wonder at this designing miracle.  The dwarves 
were the finest craftsmen in stone masonry and they had once again 
outdone themselves. At that moment, the servant who had announced 
Éomer’s arrival to Legolas bustled through the archway, and bowed to the 
young king.  

     “Welcome to our realm, your Majesty.  Prince Legolas bids me to 
make you feel at home here, and if you will please follow me, I will show 
you to your rooms.”  The servant signaled to the elves standing just inside 
the archway to come forward, and they took the reigns of Éomer’s horse, 
and led it away to the stables.

     Éomer followed the elf through the carved archway and looked up at 
the falls as they passed beneath the arch.  He reached out his hands on 
either side to touch the twin cascades.  

     “I had always thought that elves desired secrecy, but I see that it is not 
so here,” Éomer stated.

     “What do you mean?” the servant asked.  “If we desire privacy, we 
simply close the curtains.”

     “Close the curtains?” Eomer asked.

     “Yes, watch closely,” the servant said, as he walked over to a large 
wooden lever mounted on the wall next to the archway.  As he pulled 
down on the lever, a chain mounted to the lever creaked and moved 
upward, and in the darkness above, Éomer could hear, but not see, the 
sounds of metal moving against stone. Suddenly, the twin falls became 
one, as the two cascades joined together to conceal the archway from the 
outside.

     Éomer stood behind the falls, and was aghast.  He could not believe 
that such an engineering marvel could possibly be accomplished.

     “Come now,” the servant said.  “My lord is eagerly awaiting you.”

     “Eagerly, you say?” Éomer asked.  “Then lead on!”

     Together they passed into the palace and down a long hall flanked with 
torches to light the way.  Éomer looked about him, as his eyes adjusted to 
the torchlight.  He espied many openings of various sizes leading off from 
the main causeway, but the servant kept to the straight path. At last, he 
turned aside, and began to climb a winding stair, leading to the upper 
levels, where the private chambers were located. Éomer found himself in a 
large lighted hall with many doors on either side.  Windows cut into the 
stone walls and roof illuminated the hall with sunlight.

     “This is your room.” the servant said, as he stopped in front of one of 
the doors.  “You will find a bath ready for you, and I’m sure you will want 
to rest and refresh yourself.  When you are done, make your way down 
this hall to the last room on the left side.  That is my Lord’s room.  He is 
expecting you.”

     The servant opened the door for Éomer, then bowed and left the young 
king alone in the large and well furnished room.  Éomer stood silently for 
a moment, contemplating his surroundings.  He noticed a curtained alcove 
nearby, and approaching it, drew aside the curtains to find a steaming 
bath.  Wasting no time, he shed his travel stained clothes and submerged 
himself in the water.  Leave it to the elves to think of everything, he 
thought as he ducked his golden head beneath the mint scented water. 

~*~*~

     Legolas paced from one end of his chamber to the other like a caged 
animal. This behavior is most unbecoming of an elven prince he thought 
he could almost hear his father say, as he wrung his hands in anticipation.  
His father had always scolded him for behaving like a mortal and being 
too “impulsive”.  He moved to the desk near the window and sat down, 
pretending to look at the pile of correspondence scattered upon the desk 
top.  But presently, his thought wandered, and he began to recall former 
events, such as the time he had first laid eyes on then Third Marshall of 
the Mark. He remembered their angry words on the plain, and later at the 
encampment.  He recalled then, with both fondness and a mixture of 
anxiety, the day Éomer had made him reconcile with his beloved.  Yes, a 
year was a long time to be parted from those he loved.  A year!  Go on like 
this, Legolas thought, and soon you’ll be measuring time as the mortals 
do!  A year is like  a day to you, and yet so much longer in the expanse of 
immortality.

     After washing away all the grime and dust of the road, Éomer pulled 
himself from the warm pleasantness and wrapped his long lean body in a 
luxurious towel. He shuffled about his belongings for a clean white tunic 
and his black pants.  He wanted to look attractive for the elf, but also 
desired simplicity.  He didn’t allow himself to think about why he wanted 
to keep the number of buttons and ties to a minimum. At last he gave 
himself a final look in the mirror and tied his damp hair back from his 
face.

     “A fine figure of a man!” he said aloud, but the sound of his voice 
seemed to lack the confidence he sorely needed at that moment.

     Éomer could not still the trembling of his hands as he opened the door 
to his chambers.  Neither could he stop his legs from shaking as he walked 
slowly down the hall.  He reached with trepidation toward the elf’s door, 
and tried in vain to still his thundering heart and labored breathing.  He 
suddenly leaped back in fright and surprise, as the door jerked open before 
his face.  Recovering his senses, he found himself wrapped in the arms of 
a sweetly scented, and most sorely missed elf.

     “Well my friend!” Legolas exclaimed, as he released Éomer from his  
grasp.  “Aragorn wrote to tell me you were coming, and that you were 
traveling light.  But I didn’t really expect you to come all this way alone, 
and without an escort.”

     “Does it surprise you that much that I wanted to travel alone?” Éomer 
asked.  “I think I would have had a hard time dispelling my escort to be 
alone with you.”

     Legolas blushed somewhat at such a bold statement.  Éomer let his 
eyes travel up and down the length of his companion, recalling how his 
own hands had done the same to that elf’s body once before.  The young 
man cleared his throat and loosened his collar, noticing how hot it had 
suddenly become. 

     “You look well,” Legolas said as he moved closer to Éomer, reaching 
up to caress the man’s face.  “Just as I remember you.  Although, the last 
time we were together.....”

     Legolas’ voice trailed off as he wrapped his strong arms around 
Éomer’s waist and pulled their bodies close together.  Éomer found 
himself completely lost in the elf’s embrace, lost in the familiar scent of 
pines and the forest after rain, lost in the sensation of complete and utter 
bliss that overwhelmed and overcame him as he was swept away in a deep 
and passionate kiss that left him breathless and stilled his heart.  As 
Legolas broke the kiss and leaned back to look at the young king, Éomer 
found himself transfixed in the almost hypnotic indigo eyes of the elf. He 
could feel the elf’s warm breath ghosting across his freshly kissed lips.  He 
wanted to draw them together again and reached out to tangle his hands in 
Legolas’ hair. There was no mistaking the elf’s intentions as he more than 
responded to Éomer’s invitation for more contact, and within moments, 
the young man was divested of his simple garments and  lying upon his 
back on the prince’s bed.

     “I seem to remember a similar situation not too long ago, only then, the 
tables were turned in your favor.  I believe now they are turned in mine,” 
Legolas said as a devious smile broke over his fair face.  “What do you 
think of your predicament now King Éomer?”

     “I think that you take advantage of my good will.  I also think that you 
are dressed a bit too warmly for this fine weather we are having? Perhaps 
you should make yourself cooler,” Éomer suggested as casually as if he 
were having a conversation with anyone on the street. 

     Legolas, however, did not need to be told twice, and judging from the 
growing bulge in his leggings, it was apparent that he was just as anxious 
to “make himself cooler” as well.  The elf was as quick to undress himself, 
as he had been undressing his companion, joining Éomer swiftly on the 
large bed.  The elven prince began to tease the king of men, crawling 
catlike over Éomer’s lean body, and kneeling over him with a wicked 
smile.  Éomer gasped with pleasure as the elf’s tongue slid along the curve 
of his neck, and then along the edge of his ear.

     “I’ve obsessed about this, about you, for too long now,” Éomer gasped.  
“I can understand why Aragorn says that he cannot think clearly when you 
are near, and that you are a sweet distraction to him.”

     Legolas moved to the side and stretched out on the bed beside Éomer.  
He leaned up on one elbow and looked up and down the length of the 
“fine figure of a man” lying next to him.  Éomer taking the hint, did the 
same, and marveled at the lean but finely sculpted muscles of his 
companion. 

     “Do you like what you see Horse Lord?” Legolas asked innocently.

     “Gods, yes! I like it!” Eomer hissed impatiently.

     “Then come here and have it if you will.” Legolas replied, with another 
of his seemingly innocent smiles.

     Éomer dived upon the body next to him and ravaged the sweet mouth 
offered to him without hesitation.  He loved the taste of the elf’s kisses.  
He could slide his tongue into that mouth for all eternity, not needing 
breath, or food, or water ever again, as long as he could hold the elf, 
breath the scent of his skin, his hair, feel the hardness of his muscles, the 
urgency of desire.  All that he had ever wanted, all that he had ever 
needed, was right here.  And yet, even at the height of arousal, he could 
feel that something was not quite right.  There was a nagging feeling of 
guilt on the edge of his consciousness that would not be ignored.  

     Éomer released the elf and raised himself up onto his knees, drawing 
Legolas up with him so that they were kneeling and facing each other.  
The young king looked deeply into the elf’s eyes, trying to see if he could 
read there any sign, any emotion that would betray if Legolas was feeling 
guilt as well, but Éomer saw nothing of the sort.  He saw only raw desire, 
naked lust, and the primal passions that he thought only mortal men were 
cursed with. Could Legolas so easily put aside his love for Aragorn and 
give himself to another man without even the slightest bit of hesitation?  
Could Éomer even begin to resist such a tempting creature so obviously 
intent on being taken? There was no need to ask such a question.  The 
sinking feeling inside told the young king all he needed to know.  It was 
impossible to resist Legolas.  He knew it, Aragorn knew it, and there could 
be no turning back.  But he would regret it in the morning.  

     Éomer tilted his head back and sighed his pleasure as Legolas skilled 
mouth traveled down his neck and over his chest.  The elf traced his 
fingertips slowly in lazy circles around the man’s nipples each in turn as 
the other was between his softly biting teeth.  Éomer leaned further back 
to support himself with his hands and give the elf better access.  

     The man could feel his control slipping away.  He was on the edge of a 
knife, in that place where both pleasure and pain lingers, until the ability 
to distinguish one sensation from the other is no longer possible.  

     “Gods, Legolas!” he cried.  “You undo me!”

     As soon as the words left his mouth, he knew.  He felt that stab of guilt 
return.  He had heard those words before, but not from himself.  He had 
heard them uttered in a grove of pines in far away Rohan.  He had heard 
them uttered from the mouth of a friend he was now betraying.  He could 
hear that same friend’s voice speaking to him from a long past 
conversation they had shared together....

     “He is my happiness, my soul, my very life.  I cannot be without him.  I 
won’t be without him.”

     Aragorn would be heartbroken if he knew what was happening now in 
this room.  Éomer could feel the struggle within himself, the need to 
possess burning him and the need to do what was right compelling him.  
Which would be the stronger? Legolas was pushing him over the edge of 
reason; the elf moved his mouth lower and lower, over the rippling 
muscles of the man’s stomach.  Lower....lower...

     “Stop, please Legolas.  I can’t betray him,” Éomer said, and felt as if he 
was falling suddenly from a very high place into complete darkness.  

     Legolas looked up at Éomer through impossibly long lashes, and then 
raised his head to whisper in the king’s ear.

     “Whom do you betray horse boy?” Legolas asked as his hands slid up 
Éomer’s thighs.

     “Aragorn!” Éomer gasped as Legolas’ hands closed over his swollen 
member.

     “Why do you say you betray him?” Legolas asked, that silky whisper 
sending shivers down the man’s spine.

     “You love him, and belong to him,” Éomer replied, turning his head to 
look at the elf.  “Do you not love him?”

     “I belong to no man. Yes, I do love him, but that changes nothing, for 
does he not also love Arwen?  Does he not betray her when he is with me?  
Why then can I not also be with another?  It is of no consequence as you 
will soon see, for he loves you as well,” the elf said and continued to 
stroke the man to complete arousal.

     “Loves me?” Éomer gasped breathlessly as the elf’s ministrations 
brought him near the brink.

    “Yes, loves you.”

     Éomer froze.  That voice from somewhere beside them...who...it 
couldn’t be…

     The young king struggled to turn his head to the side to see who had 
spoken, though he knew full well who owned that voice that could sound 
both rough and silky at the same time.  Aragorn.  It could be no other.

     The young man’s handsome face was a picture of stupefaction, as he 
made no effort to hide his surprise.  He looked in bewilderment from the 
face of Aragorn to that of the wicked elf kneeling in front of him.  

     “But I only left you a few days ago,” Eomer began.  “How can it be 
that you have come here before me?” 

     “Has the skill of the elf made you so quickly forget your journey up till 
now?” Aragorn asked smiling.  “Do you fail to remember that you stopped 
at Osgiliath after you left Minas Tirith?  I knew you would be coming 
here.  I wished to arrive here before you did.”

     The King of Gondor reached out his hand and began to softly stroke the 
head of his elf.  Legolas looked up, smiling sweetly at Aragorn.

     “Legolas, if the King of Rohan continues to gape his mouth in such an 
inviting manner, I think it would be wise to fill it.  What say you?” 
Aragorn asked.

     “Yes, but I think he will find it filled with more that he bargained for,” 
the elf replied.  

     Éomer now noticed that Aragorn was completely naked, and had been 
so all this time.  He watched motionless as the former ranger moved to 
kneel behind him on the bed, and then felt his muscles begin to relax as 
Aragorn’s warm hands began to massage his shoulders and upper back.  

     “You see,” Aragorn began.  “My sweet elf wished to have his revenge 
for that trick you played on him one year ago.  And I think one good turn 
deserves another, don’t you?”

     “Don’t be angry with me, Éomer,” Legolas said as he pressed his 
enticing body against Éomer’s.  “At least I didn’t blindfold you, tie you 
naked to the bed, and leave you alone to ponder your fate.”

     “Well, yes, but I...” Éomer stammered as he blushed miserably.

     “There is no need to apologize,” Aragorn assured him and pressed 
close against Éomer’s back.  “If you had not done what you did, we would 
not be as we are now.”

     The young king shivered with pleasure as Aragorn’s hairy chest rubbed 
against his back and Legolas’ smooth one rubbed against his own.  
Trapped between two lovers, and becoming a third to complete the game, 
Éomer could barely find his voice to moan his pleasure.

     “Do you want him?” Aragorn asked as he lifted Éomer’s long hair and 
planted soft kisses against his neck.  “Do you want my elf?”

     Legolas did not give Éomer a moment to answer, instead filling the 
man’s mouth with his plundering tongue.  

     “I see you cannot answer at this time, my friend,” Aragorn laughed. 
“Perhaps I already know that you do.  Go ahead and take him.”

    Legolas broke the kiss and turned smoldering eyes on Aragorn.

     “Are you giving me to this horse boy, ranger?” he asked.

     “I don’t have to give you to him.  He already has you.  You gave 
yourself to him the moment he walked into this room,” Aragorn said.  
“Now I think you had best see to his needs.”

     “My needs are great!” Éomer exclaimed breathlessly.  

     Aragorn reached around Éomer from behind and began to stroke the 
man’s erection with both hands.

     “Great indeed!” Aragorn laughed, and looked over Éomer’s shoulder at 
the elf who was absorbed, for the moment, with watching the motions of 
the King of Gondor’s hands.  He looked up in time to catch Aragorn’s eye.

     “Yes, but Aragorn’s needs are great as well,” Legolas complained.  Is 
this poor elf’s body expected to host two great kings of men in one 
setting?  Am I to be both impaled and gagged all at once?”  

     Now it was Aragorn’s turn to laugh.

     “No, I don’t think you are deserving of both of us.  And can I not gag 
or impale my sweet elf any time I choose?” Aragorn asked.   As he slowed 
the motions of his hands to prolong Éomer’s pleasure, he noticed that the 
elf’s only reply was to raise his eyebrows.  

     “I think we should let Éomer have you today,” Aragorn said, tilting his 
head to look more closely at the young man, who was by now quite lost in 
reverie.
     “But what about you, my love?” Legolas asked, as he reached over 
Éomer’s shoulder to softly stroke Aragorn’s face.  “Who will see to your 
needs?”

     “Éomer will see to them,” he replied.

     Legolas eyes widened and he moistened his sweet lips with the tip of 
his tongue.  The elf cast an uncertain glance at Éomer, who still seemed 
oblivious to their conversation. 

     “Do you think he will agree to your proposal?” Legolas asked.

     “The King of Gondor does not negotiate!” Aragorn answered sternly, 
but with a twinkle in his eye.  “Now let us get on with it before we are too 
old to care,” Aragorn insisted.

     “Indeed!” Legolas replied, and slipping from the bed, left his 
companions for a moment.

     Éomer laid his head back against Aragorn’s shoulder.  Deep ragged 
breaths racked the young man’s chest, and he tried desperately to drag 
himself back from the brink of ecstasy long enough to voice the nagging 
question he longed to ask.

     “Do you wish to have me the way you had him?”

     The young king of Rohan could not believe that he had found breath 
enough to voice the question to Aragorn, but somehow he had managed 
the task.  Now he waited anxiously, with a growing sense of trepidation, 
for the answer he knew would be forthcoming.

     “Yes, I will.”

     “But...but…I’ve never done ..”

     “It doesn’t matter.  There is a first time for every experience, is there 
not?  And I assure you, you will find both pleasure and pain, but the 
pleasure will be more potent.”

     Éomer fought against the wild urge to escape the sense of panic that 
threatened to overwhelm him when he saw Legolas returning with a small 
vial of warm oil.  The elf knelt on the bed next to his two companions.  
Aragorn suddenly released his hold on the King of Rohan, and backed 
away to allow Legolas to pour some of the warm oil over Éomer’s 
straining member. The elf prince then looked over Éomer’s shoulder at 
Aragorn, who gave a solemn nod of ascent.  Legolas smiled back at him 
and then turned and stretched his lithe form face down upon the bed next 
to them.

    “Take him, he is yours!” Aragorn whispered into Éomer’s ear.

     Éomer showed no hesitation now.  He had the permission of the one he 
most needed it from, and there would be no turning back.  Taking his 
pulsing shaft in hand, he guided himself toward the waiting body of the elf 
beneath him, and he entered with all the finesse of a raging bull.  The 
resulting cry of pain, stifled into the pillow by the fair elf, caused Éomer to 
wince in regret of his roughness.

     Although he was not as gentle as Aragorn, something about the rough 
use of his body by the young king was extremely arousing to the elf, and 
when Éomer reached up to grip the elf’s wrists, and hold them down at his 
sides, Legolas realized what it was that he had been missing.  That was 
what he wanted.  He needed to submit, and to be forced to do so.  He 
silently wondered, as he was swept away in wave after wave of pleasure, 
if he would ever be able to communicate that need to Aragorn.

     The King of Gondor had not been idle.  He had retrieved the vial of oil 
and thoroughly coated himself with it.  Then turning back to his 
companions, he took a moment to appreciate the arousing spectacle taking 
place on the bed.  He smiled broadly at the way Éomer was completely 
oblivious to all else but the elf.  Aragorn knew full well what a potent 
aphrodisiac the elf was.  But Aragorn could not wait and watch forever.  
His desire was growing as well, and needed to be sated.  He gripped 
Éomer’s thrusting hips and steadied their movements.

    “Gently…easily…he is not an animal to be tamed.  Give him as much 
pleasure as you take from him Éomer,” Aragorn whispered.

     As Éomer slowed his movements and concentrated on being a little 
gentler with the elf, Aragorn took advantage of the distraction to slide his 
knees between Éomer’s, and position himself.

     Éomer had almost forgotten what was in store for him, so deeply 
intoxicated by the fair elf’s body was he, that when the white-hot stab of 
pain overtook him, his near deafening cry of pain inches from the elf’s 
sensitive ear, tore Legolas out of his reverie.

     “By Valinor man!  Do you mean to draw every elf in Ithilien to my 
chambers in alarm?” Legolas cried.

     But Éomer did not hear.  He was trapped between the pleasure beneath 
him and the pain behind.  He could no longer separate them, and was sure 
he would drown. But slowly, he began to come back to the light, and as 
the pain subsided, only to be replaced by the greater pleasure, he could 
breathe, and feel, and experience once again.  He became conscious of 
Aragorn’s rough sweet voice behind him.

     “You can take this Éomer.  Seek for the pleasure, and the pain will flee 
before it.”

     “Yes,” Legolas whispered from somewhere beneath them.  “Don’t 
forget that I am here as well.”

     Éomer felt himself collapse against the elf, his rough stubbled cheek 
against Legolas’ shoulder.  He takes us both.  Aragorn takes us both.  Me 
with his body, and Legolas through mine.  Éomer’s thoughts were so 
overwhelming that for a moment he simply lay still, and let Aragorn do as 
he would.

     “I am only a man,” Eomer whispered.  “This is too much.”

     “You are a great man!” Legolas gasped.

     “You are more that than! You are a king of men, the King of Rohan!” 
Aragorn cried, as he released his pleasure into Éomer’s waiting body.  
Éomer felt himself do the same to the elven prince, and only Legolas 
remained silent, as his cries of pleasure were completely muffled by the 
pillow that the weight of two men were pushing his fair face into.

     Hours latter, Éomer raised himself up slowly, and looked around.  He 
was warm, sated, and felt as if all was right with the world.  He was still 
astounded by how free he now felt, and could not believe that the return of 
the king had not only destroyed the darkness that had oppressed them all 
for so long, but had brought him so much happiness as well.  

     Well, I guess I am not the only one who can plot and scheme, Éomer 
thought. My plan was a success, and so was the elf’s.  I wonder who will 
plot next?  He lay back down between his two companions, and drifted 
into sweet slumber.....

To be continued