Don't get scared by the German title, the fic is in English. My 
first fic posted to this fandom, please be kind with me (i.e. please 
feedback me!)

~*~

Name: Sehnsucht ist so grausam [longing is so cruel]
Author: Pharmakeia - pharmakeia@hakkinen.com
Pairing: Legolas / Haldir
Rating: NC-17 (if I got that right... I'm not used to this system. 
There is fucking, and it's slash and graphical.)
Note: off-canon, contains spoilers to TTT. Set just after Helm's 
Deep. This is my first ever LOTR fan fic – I would love some 
feedback! 
Disclaimer: this is purely fictional, based on the wonderful tales 
and the exceptional world made by J R R Tolkien. I am merely 
stealing a moment in time. I do not own the characters, nor am I 
making any profit whatsoever from this.
Lots of thanks to my two wonderful betas: caz and `ling!

~*~ 

It was dark that evening, darker than ever before, it seemed. They 
had defeated the army, their victory had been won, but at a price so 
high, he couldn't even begin to grasp it. 

How many elves had fallen? How many men? The Helm's Deep was filled 
with bodies, parts of bodies, twisted bits of armour and pieces of 
crumbling structures. Children were crying, and both men and elves 
were sitting in every place available, wounds being tended to, or 
tending to the wounds of others. The more capable and those with 
some strength left, were clearing the inner area so that it could be 
used by the survivors.

King Théoden was in deep conversation with Aragorn, and the returned 
sons of the Rohirrim were all gathered there in the inner courtyard. 
Together with Gandalf they had suddenly appeared and changed 
everything. With the coming of dawn they had met with the few 
remaining warriors that had set out from within the Helm's Deep on 
horseback, and they had slain the last of the orcs. They had indeed 
won them the battle - and their lives. 

Gimli was boasting about his brave escapades to anyone who bothered 
to listen, mainly those that were too young to have participated in 
the battle, or those too tired from it to shake him off.

Legolas was certainly not one of those. He was wandering around, 
gathering his kin – alive and dead. They were immortal in many 
senses of the word, but the blow of an axe or a spear, or the deep 
impact of an arrow would nonetheless leave them dead. Many of his 
friends had been killed. But had it not been for Haldir and the 
other elves sent by Elrond, Gandalf and his company would have 
returned in vain. They would have been the first to lay eyes upon a 
battle field littered with every single one of their kin. And 
amongst them would himself, Aragorn and Gimli have been found. 

Legolas was thankful that Elrond had indeed sent the elves to assist 
them, but wondered if it had been worth it. Sauroman's forces were 
destroyed. For now. But how long would it take him to conjure up 
another army of this size? Ten times this size? Would the race of 
elves have been better off staying out of this?

Legolas walked around the courtyard, almost mesmerised by the 
horrors he saw. Not only were his friends dead and slaughtered, but 
there were orcs present. He found at least fifteen orcs for every 
defender of the Deep. The orcs were dead, but their presence 
nevertheless wavered the otherwise calm elf. He would never lower 
himself to plunder the dead, as if these warriors of Isengard had 
anything worthy of being plundered, but the little childish voice 
inside his head persuaded him to step on the hands of a dead orc. He 
put all his weight onto that one foot, feeling the hand cave in 
under it. He heard a sickening sound as the bones – if those 
creatures indeed had normal bones – snapped and cracked, before it 
sunk deep down into the mud and debris from the battle. A puddle of 
muddy water was all that was left of the hand.

Legolas walked over to the spot where he had last seen Haldir. Not 
wanting to, yet needing to. He would have to bring him home, to 
return him to his fellow kind, as Haldir would indeed have done for 
him. A slight feeling of shame and guilt for being the one to 
survive hit Legolas, making him cringe. His steps faltered and he 
turned away.

Breaking off, he decided the sight would be too much for him now. He 
needed to rest, to comprehend what had just happened, to move on. 
This was not how an elf, least of all an elven prince, behaved. The 
calm that had protected him during the battle and led him through it 
was shattered. Rest was what he craved for, but what he feared he 
would not get. The cries from the battle would not normally have 
resounded in his ears, but they did so now. He could hear how 
Aragorn had shouted to him, how Gimli had counted the deaths he had 
inflicted and how he himself had responded. How the orcs had sneered 
and shouted... and how the wounded had cried out.

He went back up the stairs to the others and nodded his head to the 
king, silently requesting a moment alone with Aragorn as he tugged 
at his sleeve. The king nodded back in response, continuing his talk 
with the warriors, making clear what had to be done.

"What is it, Legolas? I have never seen you like this. You look… 
tired?" Aragorn looked exactly the same, but much different. His 
eyes were brightly alive and he was eagerly taking  part in the 
planning of what was to come. 

"I am tired. I need to be alone; I need…" Legolas' words trailed off 
mid-sentence, and he looked to the stone-covered ground for support.

"So go. Nobody will blame you. Your loss has been immense." 
Aragorn's voice was surprisingly tender, and when Legolas finally 
lifted his gaze from the random pattern of the stones, he saw 
understanding in his eyes. A hand on his shoulder gave him some of 
the ranger's confidence.

"I will be back no later than dawn tomorrow." Legolas turned around 
to the heap of arrows gathered from the battle field and refilled 
his quiver. No need to take risks; dangers were still all around. He 
grabbed a blanket and stuffed it into a rucksack he slung over his 
shoulder.

With a nod and a handshake, they parted and Legolas started to walk 
the slope towards the battlefield again. Holding his head high, eyes 
fixed on the horizon, he walked past the bodies of his fellow 
fighters. The stench had already started to tear in his nose, but 
would not be recognisable to human senses until another day or so. 
Walking on, his nose sensed other scents – of fire, mud and a 
different sort of rotting. No doubt he had made it into the heaps of 
fallen orcs by now. 

Walking was hard; everywhere he set his foot down, he stepped on 
someone dead. Parts of bodies caved in under his feet, but he kept 
going, refusing to look down, continuing towards the slope where 
their reinforcement had shattered into the ranks of Sauroman's army. 
Walking ever faster, he was running up the steep hillside and he did 
not turn back until he was certain not to see the sight he was 
fleeing from.

Legolas cursed himself for being so weak. He normally possessed the 
stoicism of the ancient peoples, the knowledge that nothing good 
comes out of rushing things, that weaknesses will be found and 
explored by one's enemies if revealed ever so slightly.

The loss had been great, but before he could indulge in it, he would 
have to make sure he was alone. That nobody, neither enemy nor 
friend, was there to see him.

The landscape before him was a rocky one; boulders were randomly 
littering the plains and slopes of green that laid out before his 
eyes. There were few trees to be seen from where he stood now, but 
he knew the forest was within reach. He could smell it, could hear 
the wind rustling the leaves. The grass smelled so sweet, and faint 
traces of mildew lingered in the shadows of the gigantic boulders. 
He resisted the urge to sit down in it and revel in the sweetness of 
nature – it would provide rest, but not of the kind he needed now.

The nearest boulder would do, Legolas decided, and he swiftly 
climbed it from the steepest side as a little exercise for himself. 
Standing on top of it he could see wide, but nothing was moving. 
Absolutely no movement whatsoever. Closing his eyes, he breathed in 
the scents brought to him by the wind. The sweetness of the grass 
was coupled with the ever growing stench from the battle earlier on. 
He wrinkled his nose, sighing, before opening his eyes and hurriedly 
jumping down onto the ground again.

He steered towards the forest. It was only half an hour or so to 
walk, and he cleared his mind for it, quite happy just to walk at 
his own pace for once. Nothing else in his head at all; not the 
cries of Haldir. Neither cries from pain, nor cries from ecstasy. 

Not until he reached the forest did he notice it was dark again. The 
day had passed so fast he could hardly remember any of it. The 
imprints of the battle would soon enough start to haunt his mind, 
when he closed his eyes, if only momentarily to blink. He needed to 
set up a camp and get a fire going first. 

Everything happened according to his reflexes. When he sat down next 
to the fire, eating what food he had found on his little trip 
through the forest, his eyes fixed on the fire. The dancing of the 
flames stole his attention and he ate only because he knew he had 
to. One flame was particularly strong and fierce, protruding into 
the air from the log, seeking the air to nurture itself. For a split 
second, Legolas thought he had gone mad; he had the distinct feeling 
that they were sharing a meal. The fire and him.

He desperately needed to rest and heal. Setting the remaining parts 
of his meal aside, he curled up, his long robe under his head and a 
blanket over his body. Sleep did not come easily, but he was 
gradually more successful in repressing the scenes from last night's 
battle. 

The worst part was what he hadn't seen. 

Aragorn had been the one to tell him Haldir was dead, that he had 
held him when he died. Legolas imagined over and over again what it 
would have been like, his brain not granting him any mercy, but 
showing every detail. What would the other elf have looked like when 
he realised he was dying...? 

The darkness of sleep finally reached him. If there had been anyone 
around to watch him lying on the ground, they would have seen his 
shoulders untie themselves from a tense knot, his fingers 
unclenching from fists. 

~*~

The gentleness of the repeated caress awakes me. Back and forth from 
the nape of my neck to my throat, it swiftly moves. I can see your 
smile even though I am not about to open my eyes just yet. I just 
relax into the familiarity of your caresses, smile slightly and 
lower my head to brush the back of your hand with my chin.

You always awake before me; always wake me like this when we are 
alone. Knowing I am awake, your hand trails off from its path, to my 
face. Your fingers play along the line of my jaw before one runs 
over my lips. I kiss it before it darts away.

Your fingers draws over my cheekbones and back to my hair, digging 
deep into it, and I can feel you coming closer, feel your breath on 
my chin. Your lips are so close, I can feel the warmth radiating 
from them and onto my skin. Turning my head slightly, I close the 
distance between us and greet you with a kiss.

"Morning, Haldir," I say as I let my fingers comb through your hair 
and pull you down to me. You smell of the forest that we have been 
sleeping in – sweet and rough. I open my eyes and meet yours, see 
your mouth curve into a smile before you lean back down to my lips, 
outlining them in short licks. Your fingers are playing with my neck 
and your body is pressed close to mine, as you slide into the warmth 
of my blanket.

You are only wearing the most necessary of clothes, and I start 
taking them off, wanting to feel your skin against mine. My fingers 
impatiently slide underneath your shirt, seeking the warmth of your 
skin. You start to work your way downwards, kissing my neck, 
nibbling gently down to my throat. Kissing and licking the hollow of 
my throat, you start to murmur to me. You love me. You need me. 

You love me. 

There is an urgency in your voice, paired with a sadness. I take you 
into my arms, feeling your whole weight rest on me, and I hold you 
close. I whisper back, into your hair, that I love you too, always 
have. Always will.

Your mouth is back on mine and our words are silenced. You kiss me 
over and over again; gentle and dwelling at first, then increasing 
the intensity, building up a feverish strength. I eagerly meet your 
kisses - eager to taste your lips and your desire. Your hands have 
undressed me without me paying much attention to it, only focusing 
on your sweet and soft kisses. As your tongue slides into my mouth, 
the sensation of bare flesh against bare flesh runs through my body.

"Haldir..." I whisper into the kiss, bucking upwards, pressing my 
body into yours. You laugh down at me, before leaning back and 
raising yourself to your knees. I lost myself too much in the touch 
and feel of you to finish the job of freeing you of clothes, so now 
you do it for me, excrutiatingly slow as I caress your stomach with 
one hand, putting the other behind my head for support. You even 
undo your braids, letting your long hair flow down your sides and 
onto your chest. 

The morning is still fairly dark; only the flames from the fire a 
few feet away is providing us with light. There is no moon, and the 
flames render you in an illuminating shine; a warm glow encapsulates 
you, giving the illusion that you are almost golden. Fighting this 
illusion is a faint, silvery shine, seemingly coming from within 
you. I have seen it before, but never in this contrast; you are 
strikingly beautiful. As in a dream. 

Smiling again, you lift my hand up to your mouth, pressing a kiss to 
my upturned palm. Your tongue dips on to the soft skin of my hand, 
tracing the lines and curves of it, before you kiss each of my 
fingers. Never taking your eyes away from mine. As you put my hand 
down to my stomach, I realise I have been holding my breath. I let 
it out in a sigh of contentment, narrowing my eyes and letting down 
every defence I have ever built up.

You quickly get to your feet and take off the rest of your clothes. 
In a short instant you stand perfectly still before me in silence, 
letting my eyes wander over you. Your body is beautiful; long, 
slender and strong limbs in perfect harmony. I know every inch of 
it, know the outline of every scar and every fold of skin, but it 
never ceases to intrigue me to explore more. 

Kneeling down again, you remove the rest of my clothes before 
sinking back into my embrace. The pace quickens; your hands are 
roaming over my body, dwelling nowhere, touching and caressing 
everywhere. I can feel you need me, just as I feel myself need you. 
The urgency in our embrace is underlined by your erection pressing 
into my belly, just barely touching my own, and the slipperyness of 
liquid smearing into my skin is not to be mistaken.

"I want you; I want to belong to you," I whisper to you as I rub my 
hands down your back, feeling you shift underneath them and ontop of 
me.

"I cannot own you, Legolas." You seem slightly amused.

Propping yourself up on one elbow, you look seriously into my eyes, 
fingers faintly tracing the contours of my nose and cheek. 

"I cannot - however much I would have wanted just that." I open my 
mouth to speak again, but you kiss me into silence.

"Let us just enjoy each other now," you say in between soft kisses, 
shifting your body against mine, so that I become more aware of the 
lust than anything else. Putting your arms around me, rolling 
yourselfover onto your back, you let me straddle you.

My mouth plays along your body, down your chest. I slide the tip of 
my tongue over your skin and as my tongue starts circling a nipple, 
you hiss through gritted teeth. My hands slide down your side, over 
your hips and thighs as I continue to explore your chest and nipples 
with my mouth, trailing paths of invisible patterns upon it.

"Please, Legolas..." you breathe; your wish unspoken, but easy to 
guess. Your one hand has started to stroke your erection slowly, and 
the other hand is seeking mine. I involuntarily shiver, and my back 
arches, pressing myself firmer into your grasp. You run your thumb 
over the head of my cock, smearing your thumb with the fluid before 
you lift it to my lips. I suck it in greedily, before you return 
your hand to stroke me. 

Your gentleness is killing me, being just what I crave, but far too 
subtle for my body now. I need to lose myself inside you. 

My breathing is getting heavier by the minute, and the feeling of 
your fingers playing along my shaft does nothing to lighten it. I 
try to relax again, letting out a sigh – but it turns into a 
whimper. Taking my eyes off your hands playing with our erections, I 
stretch myself upwards, letting my eyes follow the path of my hands 
curving over your body stretched out underneath me. Your eyes are 
shining deep blue with desire, your lips slightly parted. Framing 
your face are locks of hair that my hands brush away as I clasp them 
on each side of your face. My fingers are playing with the lobes of 
your ears and you close your eyes. 

I start to shiver in anticipation, grinding our bodies together. 
Your hands urge me on; your nails dig deep into my back. I retract 
one hand and put in on your hip for support, firmly grasping your 
silken skin under my touch.

Gently, slowly, I push into you. Your nails are digging deeper into 
me, undoubtedly leaving their marks. Groaning my name, you urge me 
on, and I push deeper, until I rest on your body, feeling your chest 
heave underneath me. I pause for a moment, and lick your throat free 
from tiny pearls of sweat. Underneath my tongue, I feel the purring 
when you whisper my name, and I join you; whispering your name as I 
start to thrust into you. Your legs are locked around mine, your 
hands are urging me on. On your lips are my lips, and my name.

I sit up, and your thighs spread on the ground. I get a full view of 
you, writhing underneath me. Guiding your hand towards your 
erection, I set a rhythm that will have us spent in no time. Silly 
noises of appreciation and arousal fill the air, and together we 
stroke you. My muscles tense, and I feel the promise of orgasm 
through my body. 

I lock my eyes on your face, but my vision blurrs. The gentleness is 
gone; thrust upon thrust brings us closer. Your face contorts, your 
mouth is open, eyes wide. You arch up towards me, and I see your 
orgasm taking hold of you. 

A sharp cry from your lips, your head is thrown backwards, exposing 
your throat to me. I sink in, lapping furiously at it, and feel the 
world starting to spin around me. The world before me goes under in 
a sea of colours, and I come deep inside you. Bright patterns dance 
before my eyes, strong arms tighten their grip around me.

As I rest on your body, regaining the strength to move, I see a tear 
running down your cheek. It disappears into the hair next to your 
ear before I can catch it. The sorrow is chiseled on your face, and 
I understand nothing. 

I shift my body over to lay on my side, my belly tightly pressed to 
your side, and I encircle your waist with my arm. Still not 
understanding, I kiss your face until a smile cracks through the 
facade. Spent, I settle for that and pull my blanket over us before 
I nuzzle at your neck, eyes closed, breathing in the closeness of 
you.

I fell asleep, and when I woke up again you were gone. 

I am fully dressed, and the only thing running through my mind again 
and again is the sight of the tear trickling down your cheek, and I 
hear the words you said as a farewell; 

"You own my heart, to death and beyond." 

You said my name one last time and then you were gone.

The dawn is drawing closer and I get up, not wishing to dwelve in 
the sadness of memories. I do remember now; your death. You have 
given me the consolation I need to go on. 

Folding the blanket together, my hands touch metal. A silver brooch, 
shaped like a stylized half-moon, has been fastened to it. Haldir's 
brooch... Sinking to my knees, I caress the curve of the silver, 
warm it with my touch. Tears are threatening to overpower me, but I 
need to get moving, to get back to the others. I cannot let grief 
overpower me now. I unfasten the brooch from the blanket, slipping 
it safely into my pocket.

A hand touches my shoulder, and I spin around. Gimli is looking down 
at me, sorrow in his eyes.

"I may not be an elf, but I decided you needed some looking after," 
he says, squeezing my shoulder tightly. 

So he has been by my side this night. I am thankful, but worried. It 
is not even clear to me what happened, and I wonder what he has seen.

"Come now, we have to leave." Gimli leaves my side and goes to put 
out the fire. He starts to walk away as I pack up, before I follow 
him away from the clearing.

And then it hits me – I never did feel your pulse. I licked your 
throat, but felt only the purring of you whispering my name. Never 
any pulse. The sorrow and surprise mingle in my mind as I strive to 
understand.

~*~ The End ~*~