Title:  Unexpected Tactics
Author:  Dixon of Dock Leaf
Authors Email:  zdixon@wortech.ac.uk
Pairings:  Legolas/Aragorn
Rating:  R
Summary:  Legolas and Aragorn first time after the return to Edoras from 
Helm’s Deep.
Series/Sequel:  No
Genre:  Humour and Romance
Warnings:  None
Authors Notes:  Please give me feedback, this is a muse which needs 
feeding!  This is my first attempt and I have lots more ideas.  Whether this 
is a good thing, depends on you!

Chapter One – 

“This can’t hurt this much.  Grit your teeth, shake the hair out of your 
eyes, (definitely time for a trim when I can get round to it), focus, focus, it 
really CAN’T hurt this much, he’s four foot tall, how hard can this be?  
You’ve faced down orcs, goblins, balrog, not to mention Elrond in a snit, 
how can one dwarf be so hard to knock over?!” 

 Aragorn shook his head in an effort to clear it and bared his teeth in an 
attempt at a snarl as he and Gimli circled each other for what he could 
swear was the hundredth time that morning.  Gimli, his deep set eyes 
gleaming with what Aragorn considered to be an unseemly amount of 
humour, didn’t seem to be at all discomposed by the expression on the 
Man’s face and instead smiled to himself at the sight of Aragorn trying to 
achieve the impossible:  knock a battle ready dwarf off his feet by sheer 
force.  As Aragorn continued to circle, a movement at the edge of his sight 
caught him off guard, causing him to turn.  Unfortunately, this was the 
moment Gimli chose to barrel across the space between them, slamming 
into Aragorn like a compact avalanche, shoving him clean off his feet and 
onto the solid, packed earth of the training area floor.  Aragorn lay with all 
the breath knocked out of him as Gimli’s head appeared in his line of 
vision, obscuring the sunlight with a combination of beard and helmet that 
didn’t look any better for the fact it was upside down.  

“Laddie”, rumbled the dwarf, “you should consider yourself fortunate that 
your luck’s a damn site better than you’re wrestling”.  With these parting 
words, Gimli chuckled and ambled back towards the lodging hall.  
Aragorn continued to lie on his back, waiting for at least some of his 
outraged muscles to all stop protesting at once, shutting his eyes to block 
out the sun which wasn’t helping the headache starting to lurk.

  “Why did I start this?” he wondered to himself, “it seemed like such a 
good idea at the time, learn a new battle technique, practise it a few times 
then try it out on your enemy (albeit a fake one in Gimli’s case although 
he was prepared to start reassessing THAT opinion), you knock them 
down, kill them and go home.”  



While he was pondering this, the sun was blocked out again, causing 
Aragorn to open his eyes and squint upwards, this time past long, elegant 
leather clad legs, a scrolled and embossed over-tunic and up to the 
expression residing on the sculpted features of Legolas. 

 “Well”, thought Aragorn, “at least the view’s improved”.   Hard on the 
heels of this thought came “great, not only am I flat on my back in the dust 
but I’ve got to listen to a beautifully phrased ‘told you so’ as well.”  Hard 
on the heels of THAT thought came “actually, I could lie here and look at 
him all day.” 

 Legolas however, said nothing but, raising one flawless eyebrow, offered 
a hand down which Aragorn grasped.  Hauling the Man to his feet with his 
deceptive strength, Legolas continued to say nothing in a very loud tone, 
all the while fixing Aragorn with an unwavering expression in his 
luminous blue eyes, which managed a nice blend of amusement, concern 
and annoyance until Aragorn, returning look for look, began to feel a bit 
like Pippin after a blasting of wrath from Gandalf had come his way.

  “Why do you persist in this?” Legolas asked suddenly, startling the Man 
from his contemplations, which had wandered from feeling like Pippin, to 
the much more interesting thought of just how blue the elf’s eyes really 
were and causing him to jump slightly.  “I can’t stop you from trying to 
get yourself killed by an orc on the battlefield, that is, after all, the whole 
point of the place” the elf was continuing “ but even I have to draw the 
line and object when you attempt to do it right in front of me, the wounds 
haven’t healed properly from you deciding to dive off a cliff for a bracing 
dip, let alone the ones you got from swinging off the parapet at Helm’s 
Deep, so why you must persist in battering yourself into the ground at 
every opportunity, I doubt I’ll ever understand”  “All I ask” he added, as 
Aragorn opened his mouth to argue, “is that you be at least relatively 
careful when you play, what would you propose I say to Gandalf if he gets 
back and finds the future king of men is now a sticky puddle on the floor, 
thanks to his erstwhile dwarf ally?”

 At that, Aragorn who had been dying to laugh throughout the elf’s 
speech, finally managed to swallow the impulse and instead exclaimed, 
“Ah, you’re scared of Gandalf, that’s why you’re cross with me!  Aren’t 
you concerned about me from the point of view of long friendship, dear 
elf?”

 Legolas came as close to a snort as an elf is capable before turning away 
and stalking off with his usual cat like grace, tossing a last comment over 
his slim shoulder as he did so “Fine, carry on, I’ll be in the stables, talking 
to some sensible creatures when you’d like to come and tell me I was 
right, just TRY not to break anything, there is a limit to what even my 
hands can achieve when it comes to healing idiot brained, mule headed, 
stubborn arsed, downright stupid MEN!!!” 

Oddly enough, all Aragorn could think of during this tirade was “god’s, he 
really is gorgeous, even when he’s ticked off, in fact, even more when he’s 
ticked off, I shall have to try and do it more often”.  It was a while before 
he stopped staring in the direction Legolas had gone and limped off to find 
a place to ache quietly and think pleasant thoughts about blue eyes, blonde 
hair, long legs and pointed ears.  His headache had completely 
disappeared.


Chapter Two – 

Aragorn turned over yet again, looking, as he had been since he’d given 
up on the evening and gone to bed, for a position to lie in that didn’t set 
his teeth on edge.  Dinner had not been a fun experience, he’d been at the 
same table as Gimli and Eomer, who had struck up a great friendship after 
their initial sparring, which had led to much drinking, revelry and general 
back slapping behaviour of the type Aragorn was really not in the mood 
for, particularly as Gimli was reciting the events of the afternoons 
wrestling bout in the tones of voice that only a dwarf in full oratory flow 
could manage. 

 “Sauron might not have heard”, Aragorn thought sourly as the rest of the 
company laughed “but I’ll place bets on the rest of Middle Earth being in 
on this”.  Legolas had been seated at another table and had also left the 
hall early, although not before giving Aragorn a mildly sympathetic look 
as he passed, although not so sympathetic enough to stop and rescue him.  
After dinner, Aragorn had made his excuses to the rest of the company and 
gone in search of the hottest bath he could find, which had entailed much 
cajolery of the kitchen staff.  By the time he’d lowered himself into it, 
he’d been quite prepared to stay there for the rest of the night and not 
bother moving again.  But, as with the all the best baths, it had eventually 
started to cool and he’d climbed out, groaning as his body settled down for 
a really good whinge about the treatment it had recently received.  Bed 
had looked good and so he’d headed there.  This had been a couple of 
hours ago and he’d been tossing and turning since.  Things weren’t 
improved by the fact that all he seemed capable of thinking about when he 
shut his eyes was the last view he’d had of Legolas that afternoon. 

 “Fantastic”, he thought in amusement, “a crush the size of The Shire on 
top of everything else and the one person who can make me feel better is, 
oh joy, said crush.”   After another futile attempt at comfort he sat up 
(slowly) and swore: “Damnation, it’s no good, I’ve got to go and find the 
elf other wise I’m never going to be able to walk again”.  Stopping only to 
haul on his breeches and linen under- shirt, Aragorn headed out of his 
chamber and set off down the passages of the lodging hall towards 
Legolas’ room.  At the door he paused, feeling rather stupidly nervous at 
the prospect of facing the elf at that time of the night considering the 
direction his thoughts had been going in for most of the day. 

 “This is ridiculous,” he told himself sternly, “you’ve been friends with 
him for years, spent more nights sitting up talking than even Samwise has 
had hot dinners, and this is NO different”.  At this point, just as a certain 
part of him prompted that no, this was QUITE different, so the most 
sensible course of action would be to turn round, go back to his room and 
whimper on his own like a Man should, his left knee (possibly the most 
sensible part of anyone’s body) decided that it had done quite enough 
walking around cold corridors for one night and buckled underneath him, 
tipping him against the door to Legolas’ room. 




 “I really think you ought to come in before you collapse completely” the 
elf said as he opened the door and caught the falling Aragorn under the 
shoulders in one easy movement, “I could feel you dithering from the 
other side of the room, but I have to say, you’ve lasted longer than I 
expected.” 

 Aragorn, too relieved at being helped across the room and deposited fairly 
gently facedown onto the bed, failed to reply to this with anything other 
than a faint “Help, PLEASE, if I was even remotely capable of it I’d go 
onto bended knees but failing that, I’ll beg!” 

 Legolas, looking down at the Man, laughed and said in a cheerful manner 
“now that is a pity, I would truly have liked to have had you on bended 
knee, but I suppose I’ll have to accept the begging, I could see you 
wincing at dinner, every time Gimli slapped you on the back I thought 
you’d faint into the mead.” 

 At this, Aragorn managed to raise his head from the bedspread and 
retorted in what he hoped were crushing tones, “ There seems to be plenty 
written in song about the wisdom and beauty of the elves, but they’re 
distinctly lacking in any references to the sarcasm elements of the culture, 
it must be harder to find a rhyme for, not to mention less of a mythic 
quality!” 

 “Do you need help or not?” Legolas enquired sweetly, “You know I don’t 
need sleep, so I could simply stand here and look at you all night.  But, 
while that idea has a certain charm of it’s own, there are other things I’d 
much rather be doing with you now I’ve got you.” 

 Aragorn, aches and pains almost forgotten and with other parts definitely 
perking up at this highly unexpected comment, managed to get as far as 
turning around and looking at Legolas before his left knee made it’s 
presence felt again, causing him to yelp with pain and end up, for the 
second time that day, flat on his back and admiring the view. 

 The view smiled down at him and said in a teasing tone of voice “No, I’ll 
have to accept the begging for now, you do seem to be, how can I say this, 
stiffening up nicely and unless I do something about it you really won’t be 
able to move in the morning which I suspect will please Gimli greatly.”  
Saying this, he helped Aragorn to sit up, unable to stop smirking slightly 
at the blush that seemed to have engulfed the Man, and pulled the linen 
shirt over his head, before moving to the other side of the room and taking 
a small glass vial from his pack. 

 “Because I think another shock would possibly finish you off, I’ll play 
nice and warm this up before I use it.”  If you are actually capable of it, lie 
down on your front and try to relax, I won’t be long.”  As he spoke, he 
slipped out of the door and shut it behind him, leaving a delighted and 
very aroused Aragorn face down on the bed, happily deciding to abandon 
himself to whatever his surprising friend had in mind.







Chapter Three – 

True to his word, it wasn’t long before Legolas returned, smiling to 
himself at the sight that greeted him as he opened the door.  Aragorn was, 
as instructed, face down on the bed, with his face buried in his arms, 
leaving the appreciative elf with an extremely nice view of long legs, a 
gorgeous and (as far as Legolas was concerned) not nearly often enough 
seen bum, wide shoulders and a veritable rainbow of bruises.  Legolas shut 
and bolted the door (considering what had nearly fallen through it already 
that night, you never knew, he didn’t want a surprise visit from Gimli) 
before, moving as silently as only a wood elf in bare feet could, he 
approached the bed and dropped a feather light kiss in the small of 
Aragorn’s back.

  “I do hope you’re still awake”, he said, knowing full well that he was. 

 “I’m more than awake” Aragorn replied, “did you think I’d dare fall 
asleep without experiencing the healing hands of Legolas Greenleaf?”


  “I don’t know about the healing hands,” said Legolas, climbing onto the 
bed and straddling the Man’s hips until his slim, muscular thighs were 
pressing Aragorn down into the bed  “I rather got the impression that 
hands were fairly low on the list of things you’ve been wanting to 
experience today”.

  As he said this, he poured a slow stream of oil across the shoulders in 
front of him, releasing a scent that reminded Aragorn of lemons and herbs 
into the air.  Whatever Aragorn had been about to say was lost in a groan 
of pure pleasure as Legolas swept his strong, bowman’s hands through the 
oil and, pressing down hard, massaged the liquid into the skin across 
Aragorn’s shoulders, working in wide, slow sweeps down across his 
aching back, moving down to the waistband of his breeches, lingering and 
manipulating the tense muscles there until they relaxed and then, 
frustratingly, moving back up Aragorn’s spine, pressing and searching out 
knots that even Aragorn didn’t know he’d got before moving back up to 
his shoulders and repeating the whole process over.

  Aragorn, purring like a cat that’s got the entire dairy, felt the aches and 
pains drain away under Legolas’ expert touch, leaving behind only the 
biggest ache of all which was being pressed hard into the bed by the 
weight of the elf above him. As his attention focused on this, the pressure 
of Legolas’s thighs shifted and moved lower as the elf, ignoring the gasp 
that came from the Man, pulled Aragorn’s breeches off in one smooth 
movement and sent them to join the shirt already on the floor.  The elf 
poured more of the oil onto Aragorn’s now naked bum and serenely 
carried his ministrations on down towards Aragorn’s feet. 






 The slim fingers stroked and manipulated their way down until Aragorn, 
by now almost rising from the bed on the strength of his feelings, said in 
muffled and somewhat higher than usual tones, “Thank you, that does feel 
a lot better, it must be getting late and I’m sure you need to well, not get 
your sleep so I’d better be going and….LEGOLAS!!”  He almost shouted 
this last word as he was flipped over effortlessly and a pair of lightly 
calloused, warm and oily hands took hold of him and started to stroke, 
slowly and firmly. 

 Aragorn, both knees turned to water, gave up his half arsed attempt to 
escape and could only lie back onto the bed and stuff a pillow in his mouth 
in order not to yell with pleasure as the hands continued their quest. 

 “I’ll stop if you do that,” said Legolas idly,  “How can I kiss you when 
you’re eating a pillow?”  

Aragorn, taking the hint, promptly threw the pillow off the bed and by dint 
of wriggling out of reach, managed to catch the laughing elf by his now 
empty hands and haul him into his arms and a deeply satisfying kiss, 
which inevitably turned into an epic, mutual grope, Aragorn eliciting a 
groan of delight from Legolas as he undid the elf’s silvery blue tunic and 
kissing and biting by turn’s, moved his way south. 

 “You seem to be wearing more than me”, he groused into Legolas’s 
stomach as his hands undid the ties of the elf’s leggings, before they 
slipped inside and Legolas’s fingers dug into Aragorn’s hair as his mouth 
replaced them. 


 “You… appear to be rectifying…. the situation with your…. normal 
flair”, the elf just managed to gasp before Aragorn, ridding the elf of his 
leggings at last, ducked his head down one more time, forcing his sarcastic 
lover to grab another unfortunate pillow and bite down hard, just in time to 
smother his cries as he came.  As Aragorn surfaced, grinning, Legolas 
hauled him down on top of him with the dirtiest smile Aragorn had ever 
seen and, taking the Man into his hand again, proceeded to return the 
favour as Aragorn buried his head in the elf’s shoulder and his hands in 
the thick blonde hair until he too, moaned and came.

 Eventually, as mutual breathing returned to normal and the two of them 
lay in a comfortable tangle on the bed, Legolas ran his fingers through 
Aragorn’s sweat damp hair, pushing it off his face before dropping a kiss 
onto his forehead.  “Apart from the obvious reasons, why are you 
grinning?” he asked the Man.  “Well”, Aragorn replied, “I’m very happy, 
surprisingly ache free and more glad than I thought I’d ever be that Gimli 
wiped the floor with me earlier, it’s a very nice coincidence.”  At this, 
Legolas laughed and hugged him even tighter, “Whom do you think, my 
wonderful, gorgeous, naïve, darling Man, persuaded him into agreeing to 
do it in the first place?”

The End