Title: Elevation
Author: Tracey, deranged_elf@hotmail.com
Pairing: Legolas/Eomer
Rating: NC-17
Summary: PWP, short, sweet and smutty. Legolas is grieving after Helm's 
Deep. Eomer wants to alleviate that pain.
Disclaimer: They're not mine. I just like to screw them around (pardon the 
pun) for entertainment.
Author's note: It's at the beginning of the fic.
 
  
A/N: My first LOTR slash. Amazingly, it’s not Legolas/Aragorn. This is 
probably the most unoriginal PWP bunny I could come up with, but 
bugger it, I just want to see Legolas and Éomer shag. (Hope no-one minds 
if I leave the accent on Éomer’s name out for the rest of the fic; it’s just 
annoying having to insert the symbol every three seconds.)
 
 
It was over. The battle for Helm’s Deep was over. None of the Uruk-hai 
had been left standing. The fortress was littered with their repulsive 
bodies- among them, fallen comrades of the warriors. Elves and men. 
 
It is not a sight one wishes to see after fighting what started out as a losing 
battle.
 
Legolas had never seen another Elf die before. During the night he had 
witness the fall of hundreds. He didn’t know how to cope with pain of this 
degree. Maybe he would perish too, and join his kindred in the Halls of 
Mandos.
 
He slumped down against the inner wall of the fortress. His bow hit the 
ground with a soft clatter. Legolas felt so defeated. He wanted nothing 
more than to slip away into nothingness and be forgotten.
 
“Legolas?”
 
A firm hand on his shoulder shook gently to try and return him to 
consciousness, but to no avail. Legolas closed his eyes and lay limp. The 
last thing he remembered was being picked up by a pair of strong arms 
and carried into the caves.
 
 
A few hours later, Legolas’s eyes fluttered open. He stared around him, 
uncomprehending.
 
“Good morning, fair Prince.”
 
Legolas turned his head and found himself staring into the handsome face 
of Eomer, Third Marshal of the Mark.
 
“Where am I?”
 
“In the caves of Helm’s Deep, Legolas. You need to rest. You are weary 
with sorrow.”
 
“Where are the others? Where are Aragorn and Gimli, and the King of 
Rohan? Haldir?” he asked anxiously.
 
Eomer moved over to the small pile of blankets where Legolas lay. “They 
are tending to the fallen, Legolas, be still. And Haldir…” He sighed. 
“Haldir was slain.”
 
Whatever light was left in the Elf’s eyes was gone. They were now empty, 
like two ice-blue marbles. They were the eyes of the ruined. It pained 
Eomer to look into them.
 
“Legolas, carry not the weight of the departed. It will achieve nothing 
except torment for your own mind.”
 
Pearly tears welled in Legolas’s eyes. “Do you know what it is like to 
witness the slaughter of your kin, Eomer? Do you not know that the pain 
increases tenfold for an Elf?” The tears that had been threatening began to 
fall. 
 
Eomer edged over to Legolas and put his hand on his shoulder in a gesture 
of comfort. “I was present last night, Legolas. I saw my men, my friends 
dying. There was nothing neither you nor I could do.”
 
Legolas fell forward into Eomer’s arms and sobbed, burying his face in 
the man’s tunic. “You must stay strong, Legolas,” Eomer soothed. “This 
battle is over. Another has yet to begin. Combat is no place for the 
aggrieved.”
 
Legolas locked his once-azure eyes with Eomer’s. “It will never stop 
aching, Eomer.”
 
Eomer looked down at the aureate-haired angel in his arms. “I would like 
to alleviate
 your pain, fair Prince.”
 
“There is no way. Only time and not enough of it.”
 
“Oh, I think there is a way,” Eomer said softly, tilting Legolas’s chin up. 
The Elf’s lips quivered as if in anticipation of what was to come. Eomer 
leaned down and kissed him gently, coaxing Legolas to forget his troubles 
and abandon himself to the sensation.
 
The Prince’s lips were everything the man had hoped for and more. Soft, 
sweet and yielding, but not submissive. Oh no, Legolas could kiss very 
well indeed. His lips parted slightly, inviting entrance for Eomer’s tongue. 
Eomer accepted and set about tasting every inch of Legolas’s honeyed 
mouth.
 
Hands flew in every direction. Legolas’s snaked up Eomer’s thigh and 
rested just above the needy bulge. Eomer felt himself unconsciously 
leaning into the touch and moaning in dismay when Legolas pulled away, 
resolutely denying him what he wanted.
 
Legolas shook his head, smiling slightly. “Men spend themselves too 
quickly.”
 
Eomer let out a low growl and pushed Legolas onto the pile of blankets. 
His hands tore at his clothing, discarding it carelessly on the cave floor. 
 
Legolas’s smirk disappeared from his fair face when his eyes feasted upon 
Eomer’s naked torso. “By Ilúvatar, Eomer…you are beautiful.”
 
Eomer blushed, smiling shyly. He aimed his mouth at Legolas’s but was 
stopped.
 
“Nay, Eomer. Not that kind of kiss.” He leaned up and captured one of the 
ripe rosy nipples with his lips and latched on, his tongue swirling around 
the edge, teeth occasionally nipping at the sensitive tip.
 
“Gods…Legolas…” Eomer’s words were drowned in a helpless moan as a 
talented hand found his hard shaft and squeezed. 
 
Legolas was suddenly aware of the fact that he was wearing far too much 
clothing and allowed his lover to make quick work of that. He lay before 
Eomer’s eyes, fully aroused and naked as the day he was born.
 
Eomer’s brain could barely register the fact that a creature this beautiful 
could exist, let alone share his bed. He stroked up the length of  Legolas’s 
cock, allowing his index finger to spread the moisture that had collected 
around the head.
 
Legolas closed his eyes and arched his back, whimpering his desire. He 
was nothing short of heaven-sent when helpless, Eomer observed. The 
urge to worship this incredible being was strong.
 
But, he reminded himself, it wasn’t reverence Legolas was after. It was 
alleviation of his anguish.
 
He licked delicately around the tip, teasing. Legolas’s breath was coming 
in short gasps.
 
Eomer swallowed him. Legolas nearly screamed. He bucked mercilessly, 
allowing Eomer to devour all of him.
 
He saw that, as cocky as Legolas had been a few minutes ago, he was 
dangerously close to his release. Eomer immediately ceased his 
movements, ignoring the plea.
 
“Have you ever been impaled by a man’s flesh, Legolas?” he whispered, 
his lips excruciatingly close to the responsive tip of Legolas’s ear. 
 
“Nay,” was the barely audible whisper.
 
Eomer’s tongue emerged to lick. “Would you like to be?”
 
Legolas grabbed Eomer by his dark gold hair and took his lips in a 
possessive kiss. “Yes, gods, yes!”
 
Eomer prised a finger into Legolas’s opening. “You’re so tight, Legolas. I 
don’t want to hurt you anymore than you already are.”
 
“I want this, Eomer. I want you.”
Eomer added another finger, then another. He shifted position, trying to 
find the spot, and smiled in satisfaction when the contact drew a strong 
moan from Legolas’s lips.
 
He positioned his cock at the entrance. “Are you sure?” he asked, planting 
soft kisses on the Elf’s neck.
 
Legolas nodded wordlessly. No further encouragement needed, Eomer 
plunged inside and moved forward, inch by agonizing inch. He quickly 
shifted position to give his Elf the relief he wanted- what he needed. 
 
Eomer thrust slowly at first, then faster as the volume of Legolas’s moans 
of utmost pleasure increased. He himself was on the edge, but he wanted 
to see how enchanting Legolas looked at his peak.
 
“Come for me, Legolas,” he whispered, kissing the Prince thouroughly. 
Legolas’s body stiffened with release, silver liquid spreading between 
them. A second later Eomer let himself go, his own seed filling Legolas’s 
body.
 
“Well?” Eomer asked innocently. “How is the grief?”
 
Legolas snickered. “Much more bearable when one has somebody to share 
it with.”
 
Eomer smiled in completion. His task was done