Title: Leaving the Dead 
By: Lacey
E-mail: VellutoRosso@aol.com or RuggedCherub@aol.com 
Rating: R
Pairing: Legolas/Theoden, one-sided Legolas/Aragorn implied.
Summary: At Helm's Deep, Legolas is crushed by Aragorn's 
"death".  Theoden takes it upon himself to try and lift his spirits.
Author's Notes: Ok.  Haha, I don't know where this came from, I 
just...Ok, that's a lie.  I know exactly where it came from.  
Something about the look that Theoden gives Legolas whilst 
they're standing at the edge of the precipice after the battle 
with the Orcs made me think of something more than 
sympathy.  What can I say?
Disclaimer: I don't own them, but I'm the one they come 
running to when Daddy Tolkien says, "No."
 
***
 
"Get the wounded on horseback.  The wolves of Isengard will 
return... Leave the dead."- King Theoden, The Two Towers.
 
***
 
When Theoden King of Rohan found Legolas, the Elf was leaning 
against one of the high battlements of the fortress, his eyes 
staring out over the grassy plains, his hands clasped in front of 
his mouth as though to stop a barrage of cries that wanted 
badly to spill forth.  Perhaps. 
 
Overall, the stately Elf presented a picture of smooth serenity, 
so different from the pain that he had emanated almost 
palpably, earlier.  He had obviously bathed recently, and not 
bothered to re-adorn himself with his bow and quiver, or even 
braid his flaxen hair, and the effect was one of a being 
comfortable and at peace.  Indeed, had the slender shoulders 
not been shaking ever so slightly with suppressed grief, 
Theoden might have thought Legolas in simple contemplation.
 
"There was nothing I could do, Master Elf."  If Legolas was 
startled by Theoden's voice he did not show it, or any response.  
"I could not risk another attack on our diminished party to 
search for the bodies of the dead." 
 
"Could you not?"  Legolas returned quietly, not taking his eyes 
from the stretching grasslands, "I see."
 
Theoden sighed and passed his hand over his face, hiding the 
forlorn Legolas from his sight for a moment.  
 
"What would you have me do, Legolas?  Would you have me 
damn the lives of those few who escaped to search for the body 
of one who has already passed?  Would you have me send 
riders back to that very precipice now, to search for his 
remains?"
 
"I would not, my Lord.  I would have you do nothing to further 
endanger the lives of your people," still the Elf refused to look at 
him, still he kept his gaze forward, face partially hidden by the 
golden hair.
 
"Then what do you want of me?"
 
"What do I want of you," Legolas turned now, his eyebrows 
slightly raised, "I want nothing of you, my Lord.  It was you who 
came to me whilst I grieved because you believed that I may or 
may not have wanted something from you."  Legolas studied 
the silent king for an interminable moment in which Theoden 
imagined that he could actually feel the incandescent eyes of 
the Elf roving his still form, and then he turned back to the 
sprawling vista before him.
 
A hot swoop of anger flashed through the King, to be so spoken 
to, and then so observed, and then so forgotten again, and he 
found himself striding forward and taking Legolas' arms to force 
the Elf to turn and look him in the eye.  This Legolas did, gazing 
silently at him from behind a few stray locks of blonde hair that 
had fallen across his face at the King's rough treatment, his 
beautiful face stricken, but not appearing frightened of any sort 
of harm that might befall him at the hands of Theoden King.  
This visible acceptance of pain was too much for Theoden, and 
he gasped at the incarnate beauty before him, eyes closing, 
fingers trembling as they grasped the graceful upper arms.
 
A quiet intelligible sound from Legolas broke through, and when 
Theoden opened his eyes once more it was to the sight of the 
Elf's tearstained face, the blue eyes shut tight against the tears 
that continued to leak from beneath the dark fan of lashes.  The 
sight of him was so heartbreakingly beautiful that Theoden 
wasn't sure just what he would do if forced to look upon that 
countenance for another moment.  Against his own better 
judgement, he found himself leaning forward, pressing his lips 
to the soft mouth before him, tasting the sweet salty tears 
there.  Legolas stiffened in his arms, his breathing ragged and 
sharp edged.
 
Abruptly, Theoden pulled away, though his hands retained their 
grip on Legolas' arms.  
 
"I apologise, Legolas.  I…"  Theoden trailed off, entranced by 
the look in the blue eyes, the way Legolas' worried at his lower 
lip as if in deeply confused thoughts.  Absently, Theoden 
brought his fingers up to that smooth mouth, brushed the very 
tip of his forefinger against the pillowy bottom lip and the slick 
teeth that pressed into the flesh of it.
 
Before he really knew what was happening, Legolas had leaned 
forward himself, kissing him almost feverishly.  Theoden felt him 
tugging at his arms, attempting to free them from Theoden's 
strong grip, but he kept hold, indeed, he tightened his grasp as 
he pulled the body closer to his own.  Slender, the Elf was, 
willowy, but whipcord strong and hard.  Beautiful.
 
A soft sound, a desperate sound, almost a whimper was 
released against Theoden's mouth, and at the same time the tip 
of Legolas' tongue played against Theoden's lips, seeking an 
entry which Theoden gladly granted.
 
Now, Theoden released Legolas' arms, only so that he could 
enfold the elf in his embrace, winding one strong arm about the 
Elf's shoulders, pulling him ever closer.  The other found its way 
up to the silky golden hair, pulling his battle-roughened fingers 
through the soft tresses, massaging Legolas' scalp as he fisted 
the hand, gathering up a downy handful of the stuff.  Their 
tongues met, battling over whose mouth was to be plundered, 
tangling round each other over and over until Theoden felt that 
nothing existed beyond their joined mouths.
 
There was a painful hardness burgeoning in his trousers, and he 
was almost surprised to find an answering one from Legolas, 
pressing insistently against his thigh.  Relocating his hands once 
more, this time to Legolas' narrow hips, he readjusted their 
positions until their clothed erections met, hips grinding and 
rubbing together through the rough fabric of Theoden's trousers 
and the smoothness of Legolas' leggings and tunic.
 
"Theoden King…," Legolas whispered, reclaiming his tongue for 
the moments it took to speak these words.  
 
"Elf princeling…"  Theoden returned, moving his lips to 
Legolas' fine pale throat, suckling and licking and biting his way 
down to the neckline of his tunic.  Legolas emitted a sweet soft 
sigh of pleasure, his head falling back to allow the King better 
access to the supple expanse of skin.
 
Theoden pulled down the collar of Legolas' shirt, to kiss gently 
at the collarbone, but instead his lips found something hard, 
metallic, cold.  He pulled away, a bit startled to see a finely 
wrought pendant of silver hanging on a light silver chain.  He 
had seen this before, was sure he recognised it.
 
"Oh!"  Legolas ripped away from him, one hand going up to the 
necklace at his throat, the other reclaiming his mussed hair with 
a few gentle sweeps.  For moments uncounted, they simply 
stared at each other, a rather awkward silence descending on 
them, each trying to dispel his own arousal.  They were after all, 
standing on the very public battlements of Theoden's keep.
 
"My- my apologies, my Lord, I...I forgot myself and my place," 
Legolas said, his eyes boring into Theoden's forehead rather 
than look the King directly in the eyes.
 
"Do not apologise.  I seem to have suffered the same as you," 
Theoden replied with a small and rueful smile.  Legolas looked 
back up, and his eyes were grateful.  
 
"I thought...for a moment... Ara-," he stopped his quiet 
explanation abruptly.
 
"I- I see," Theoden cast his eyes back to the silver pendant, and 
he remembered then where he'd last seen it.  Aragorn had worn 
this very same amulet: a gift, he'd said, from his Elven 
paramour, Arwen the Evenstar of Rivendell.  He raised his 
eyebrows as he regained Legolas' eyes, "Were you lovers?  Lord 
Aragorn and you?"
 
"We- I- I mean," Legolas looked rather flustered by the 
question, and a faint tinge of red coloured his pale cheeks.
 
"Oh, no, but you loved him?" 
 
Legolas was silent for a moment, then he lifted his eyes and 
nodded miserably, his eyes filling with tears again.  
 
"And I haven't even the assurance of seeing him once I die," he 
said quietly, "Do not the souls of Elves and Men go on to 
different Halls?"
 
"I cannot tell you that, my prince.  I have never been to either 
place."
 
Legolas laughed quietly, using the heel of his hand to wipe the 
new flow of tears from his face.  Theoden waited for a respectful 
interval, then asked, "…once you die', Legolas?"
 
Legolas looked somewhat confused for a moment, then seemed 
to realise what Theoden was asking.
 
"I do not intend to kill myself, or to allow myself to be slain, 
Theoden King," he said assuredly, "Do not trouble yourself with 
that thought, if indeed it would be troubling to you.  I merely 
meant that if I were to die...seeing him beyond death would be 
splendid."
 
Theoden nodded, and offered the Elf a smile that was returned 
with reluctance.  "I understand," he said, "Though I pray that 
you never even have the chance to find out for yourself."
 
Legolas raised his eyes sharply and studied the King intensely 
from behind the shimmering curtain of his golden hair; Theoden 
exhaled softly to see it: how radiantly beautiful this Elf was.  
Silently he stepped forward and embraced Legolas, kissing his 
forehead softly; then he stepped away and smiled gently at him 
before leaving him.
 
***
 
Theoden was in his private quarters when the first cries of, "He's 
alive!" and, "Lord Aragorn!" reached his ears.  He couldn't help 
chuckling to himself as he leaned back in his chair.
 
"My Lord?" queried his aide, looking up from the maps he had 
been going over.  When he, too, heard the cries he took a 
respectful step back, preparing to fold up the map.  "I will hold 
this, my Lord until you have greeted Lord Aragorn, if you wish." 
 
Theoden shook his head and waved the question away.  "No, 
no.  Go on with it.  There are others who would appreciate being 
left to greet Lord Aragorn without me hovering about them.  I 
will go to him ere long."
 
"Yes, my lord."
 
Theoden leaned forward again as the aide went on with his 
geological exegesis, but his mind was not fully on the words.  
Rather he found himself wondering whether Legolas had plaited 
his hair by now, and put on his green over-tunic and quiver.  If 
he looked again like the calm contemplative Elf ready for battle 
or the heartbroken being that had so desperately sought 
Theoden's own arms and mouth earlier.  He pushed away the 
pang this caused him and focused his thoughts on the words of 
his aide.
 
After all, it didn't really matter.  His burgeoning feelings for the 
Elf had nearly as much chance for fruition as did the Elf's 
feelings for Lord Aragorn.  
 
Perhaps.