Title: Legolas Unbound Author: Thalassa Type: FPS Pairing: Boromir/Legolas Rating: R WARNING: None Beta: None Disclaimer: I don’t own anything, and this never happened. Feedback: PLEASE! Handosho@yahoo.com Archiving: PLEASE! Just let me know where Summary/Notes: Even an elf needs help now and then. Legolas Unbound Disclaimer: Tolkein is probably spinning in his grave, God rest his soul R, I guess, M/M Slash “Legolas! Stop squirming!” Aragorn’s voice was harsh, but he was exhausted, and how could Legolas expect him to help dress his wound if he wouldn’t hold still? “Aragorn, I will be fine. I do not need your assistance.” The elf’s voice was calm, but he couldn’t see the blood on the back of his head. Aragorn finally gave up. He tossed his bag of herbs and dressings towards Boromir. “I must see to the hobbits. See if you can persuade him.” Boromir chuckled. If Legolas managed to overcome Aragorn’s patience enough that he gave over the healing to the warrior, then Aragorn must expect the warrior to handle it in a not so gentle fashion. Boromir stalked over to the long-limbed elf, and surveyed the back of his head critically. “Hmph,” was his only comment. Legolas turned in curiosity. “Yes, Boromir?” The Man of Gondor shrugged. “I guess elves don’t get sick, right? So there’s no need for you to worry about this.” He turned as if to leave. Legolas stopped him. “Worry about what?” He made a bland expression. “That wound. Pretty dirty. And here I thought elves didn’t get dirty. But I guess orcish weapons carry enough filth they can even get under your skin.” Legolas looked distressed. “Dirty?” Boromir nodded. “Very. Disgusting really. I wouldn’t want a wound to look like that. I’d expect it would fester something terrible.” Legolas opened his mouth as if to speak, then hesitated. He looked over to where Aragorn was tending the hobbits. “I can’t see to clean it,” he explained to Boromir. The warrior nodded. “Yeah. I can see that. We’ll have to wash the blood out of your hair first. There’s a stream just over that hill.” He pointed, and Legolas reluctantly trudged that direction. Boromir followed, after throwing a triumphant grin towards Aragorn. “Appeal to the cleanliness,” he chuckled under his breath. “Gets those elves every time.” He reached the hilltop in time to see Legolas strip off his tunic and leggings, and wade into the crystal clear water. He stood in the stream that came to his waist, and was attempting to loosen the braids that held his hair back. The small ones at his temples came loose easily, but the large plait down the back of his head was matted with blood from the wound, and the scalp was tender. Boromir watched for a few moments, then sighed. “Hang on, there. Let me help you.” Boromir stripped off as well, and waded in. He got to Legolas, who had a distinctly pink tinge to his ears. Boromir laughed softly. “Nothing to be ashamed of, Elf. Just let me see your braid.” Fingers more accustomed to polishing a sword than undoing delicate braids soon were at work, carefully untying and unbraiding. When a mat was reached, he would scoop up water to soak away the dried blood, then gently separate the strands. As he pulled more loose from its plait, he noticed the way the sun sparked in the golden waves. ‘Pretty as a woman’s,’ he mused silently. When he finally finishing releasing it all from it’s bindings, he told Legolas, “Bend over, and let’s get it all wet.” When Legolas raised back up, he threw the golden curtain back over his head, covered Boromir in a cold shower of water, and Boromir suddenly felt as if the earth had shifted beneath his feet. He found his hands were shaking as he began to work the soaproot into the golden mane in front of him. Evidently Legolas didn’t notice, because he closed his eyes and actually leaned into the massage. Boromir maintained an air of nonchalance until he heard the first purring hum from the elf. “Do ya like this, then?” he asked, and his voice had a hitch in it. Legolas seemed to realize what he’d done, and straightened. “You do a good job. Thank you.” Boromir could see the ragged wound better now, and he rinsed the soap out of the Elf’s hair. “Come over here to the bank so we can sit. I need to put on some herbs and stitch you.” The two found a flat warm rock, and sat down in the sun. Boromir carefully fingercombed the wet hair back from the edges of the wound, and carefully treated it. After he stitched the wound closed, he carefully drew the hair back over to cover it. “I have a comb,” Legolas murmured softly. Boromir froze. Then smiled. “Where?” Legolas pointed. “The belt next to my tunic.” Boromir retrieved it, then sat back down behind the Elf. He gently combed out the snarls and tangles, watching in a sort of awe as the silken tresses seemed to right themselves. Watching as the sun dried the gold in front of him. Watching the smooth as cream shoulders of the man who sat all too close to him. Eventually, his own temptation betrayed him. Boromir pressed a soft kiss against the side of Legolas’ neck, and was rewarded with a soft pleasured sigh, before the elf leaned further back, pressing himself into Boromir’s bare chest. “I’d wondered how long it would take,” he murmured, and Boromir could hear the smile in his voice. “Damned elf,” he grumbled back, but he kissed him again. The two made slow gentle love on the riverbank, and when Aragorn came to check on them, he smiled slyly and went back to camp. “Will Legolas be all right?” Pippen chirped. Aragorn smiled. “I think Legolas is feeling much better.”