Adult-FanFiction.org : Lord of the Rings

Only One
By : HollyHobbit13
Category: Lord of the Rings Movies > Crossovers
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Chapter List
- 21
- 22
- 23
Clad only in breeches, the Wood Elf leaned against the balcony doorway and faced the sunrise; the golden shafts gradually pierced the gray dawn, spreading warmth and light, awakening the flowers, which in turn unfurled their fragrant petals to greet the early bright. It promised to be a glorious day; the sighing of the wind in the trees and the songbirds' sleepy calls made Legolas smile until a different sound caught his attention. His sharp ears pricked and his head turned towards the source; Legolas tracked the sound in the hallway. The steps were soft, the stride light yet purposeful - and it was coming. Pushing away from the doorframe, the Elf collected his tunic as he walked towards the bed. He gazed down at his lover and softly pressed his lips to hers in a fleeting kiss. Jordan smiled in her sleep before rolling onto her stomach. Donning his tunic, the Elf didn't bother to fasten the clasps as he strode to the door before the knock could awaken Jordan.
Pulling the door wide open, the Mirkwood Elf almost smiled at Ceallach's surprised expression. Legolas quickly slipped a hand under the tray the servant carried, when the covered dishes began to slide off -not missing how the Ceallach's eyes widened as she took in his state of undress. Legolas' warrior's braids were undone, the golden locks tucked behind his pointed ears. From her angle, the maiden could see well into the room; despite herself, the servant's eyes flicked over to Jordan's sleeping form. Blinking twice, Ceallach then looked between the woman and the Mirkwood Elf. Realizing she was staring, the she-Elf remembered herself and discretely averted her gaze.
"M-My Lord. . !" Ceallach stammered softly as she delicately cleared her throat. The she-Elf expertly adjusted the tray, tilting it so the dishes slid back into place.
"Good morn, Ceallach." Legolas said his voice low and amused.
"Good morn, Prince Legolas." The Elven maiden answered quietly, composed again.
"Something for the Lady, to break her fast." She explained unnecessarily, lifting the tray in her hands.
"Thank you, Ceallach. Please, allow me." The Wood Elf said, relieving her of the tray.
"Thank you, my Lord." She replied. The Elven maiden stood in the hallway, waiting.
"Yes, Ceallach?" Legolas prompted, lifting an eyebrow.
"I must collect last night's tray, my Lord." She answered.
"By all means." The Elf stood aside and allowed Ceallach to pass, closing the door softly behind her.
Taking the morning tray back from the Prince, Ceallach entered Jordan's chambers. Her observant gaze swept the room, noting the Mirkwood Elf's boots by the bed, and Jordan's sleep shift draped over the back of a chair. The woman lay sleeping; the bed sheet had slipped down, revealing Jordan's bare back and the gentle swell of her bottom. Her long, uneven, black hair flowed across the pale sheets like a dark river. Ceallach quietly lifted the previous night's tray, nodding her thanks when Legolas opened the door for her; the she-Elf was about to leave when she turned back. Surprised to see the Prince of Mirkwood in the Woman's quarters, Ceallach almost forgot she was to give the Wood Elf a message.
"My Lord, a courier arrived for you before dawn."
"Is it urgent?" he inquired.
"I do not know my Lord. The scroll has been delivered to your quarters." The she-Elf replied. Legolas nodded.
"Thank you, Ceallach."
The maiden bowed before taking her leave, stealing one last glance over her shoulder before she hurried away. Legolas closed the door quietly and grinned widely. Without doubt, most – if not all of Imladris will soon know where and with whom he had spent the night. Legolas didn't care - all the better, so other Elves would know the Lady was taken and to whom she belonged. Judging by the position of the sun, Legolas knew it was almost the seventh hour of the morning; a glance at Jordan's still form showed no sign of her awakening anytime soon. In fact, she hadn't stirred once since turning onto her stomach. As he waited for Jordan to rouse from slumber, Legolas changed the water of the Athelas plant in the golden chalice before quietly building a small fire in the hearth.
Seated at the table, Legolas lifted a heavy, silver lid revealing spiced oatcakes. Breaking one in half, he liberally spread orange honey and butter upon it. Sipping hot herbal tea, Legolas ate and watched his lover sleep, remembering the feel of her beneath him, his hands on her warm, soft flesh. . .her enthusiastic response. He was not mistaken about that.
In reaction to last night's erotic memories, Legolas' elfhood began to swell; he shifted in his chair, his breeches growing uncomfortably tight. The Elf was sorely tempted to wake Jordan by making love to her once again, yet he decided against it; Legolas would put thought to action later, for he wished to be uninterrupted when he next loved her. Legolas finished his meal and dressed; pulling his boots on, the Elf covered Jordan and gently kissed the top of her head before exiting thru the open balcony doors.
#
Jordan gradually returned to consciousness as the sweet, silver sound of a lark's joyful melody disturbed the Immortal's rest. Her mind slowly awakened as her eyes slitted open. Blinking several times until her vision came into focus, Jordan knew from the brightness of the room, the sun was high in the sky. Rested, healed and refreshed, a slow blush spread across her cheeks and her lips curved into a wide, satisfied smile. The fantasy had become reality. . .and Legolas did not disappoint, rendering her first intimate experience well worth the wait.
Legolas . . !
Raising herself onto her elbows, Jordan looked around to discover she was alone. The room felt so empty without him, yet Jordan was glad for the solitude, for it allowed her to reflect upon the previous night's events. Hugging the pillow Legolas used, the Immortal buried her face in it and breathed in the Elf's scent: woodsy, fresh. . . special. Legolas was everything good, clean and fragrant in nature in one gorgeous, skillful, wonderful package. And he was in her bed last night. Hers! Jordan couldn't seem to stop smiling. Stretching languorously, the Immortal's stomach rumbled.
Crawling out of the bed, Jordan wandered over to the table, nude, in search of her shift. She was certain Legolas had draped it over the back of the chair last night. On a whim, she opened the armoire to find it was neatly hung. Jordan smiled in appreciation. There were certain things she couldn't tolerate, and clutter was one of them. Collette once mentioned how Edgar J. Mumford III, her butler, discretely declared it was most undignified for a young lady of her social standing to have a telltale trail of clothing left for him to pick up when his employer and her current beau would be taken in a fit of passion. Of course, Collette would then launch into a detailed description of the raunchy sex she and her lover would have. Jordan sometimes wondered if her friend did it just to embarrass her. . .
: : : : "Don't be such a prude, Jordie! When you find the right guy, believe me, you can't get enough. And Tarik – he's the One!" Collette rolled her eyes in ecstasy.
"Isn't that what you said about your last boyfriend?" Jordan asked skeptically.
"We all make mistakes. He wasn't the One." Her friend replied, her tone matter of fact.
"So, what's the criteria of being 'the One'?" the Immortal asked, amused. Collette looked at Jordan conspiratorially.
"Oh, lotsa things. But a huge deciding factor depends on how he does between the sheets. If he satisfies me, he can stay the night and maybe he gets an invitation back. If he bores me or just plain can't light my fire, I kick his ass out of my bed, have Mumford show him the door and write it off as a loss."
"Alley cat!" Jordan teased. The blonde ran her pink tongue over her top lip suggestively.
"Meow. . !" Collette purred as she crossed her legs, sat back in her chair and casually draped her arm over the back of her chair.
Several men at the next table over snapped to attention, for the movements caused the blonde's tight pencil skirt to ride up and her chest to jut forward, straining the top buttons of her tailored suit jacket. If Collette smoked, the Immortal could very well imagine her lighting up a cigarette. Jordan had to admit that her friend, though vulgar at times, was highly entertaining.
"My parents should've named me 'Mercy', because that's what all the boys say afterwards: Mercy, mercy, mercy!" The blonde said smugly.
"But, Coll – what about diseases . . .?"
"Don't worry, Jordie. No glove, no love. Life's too short. I won't be young forever, so I sure as hell plan on enjoying myself – safely – while I can before gravity hits. Besides, if he's potentially bed worthy, I won't sleep with them until their medical background check comes back."
"What?!" Jordan exclaimed.
"It all comes down to money, Jor. They say it can't buy happiness, but it sure can buy the next best thing and a helluva lot of other stuff. When the time comes, I plan to have a close relationship with a good plastic surgeon – the best Hollywood has to offer." Collette said wisely.
Collette smiled at Jordan's incredulous look. The Immortal studied her friend as she bit into her burger. Collette Ashford Hamilton of the Virginia Hamiltons was an interesting person - to say the least. At first glance, the blonde could be dismissed as simply another W.A.S.P. Delicate, refined features and perfect bone structure spoke of well breeding. Impeccable manners saw Collette thru dinners with high society as well as the working class, which, after making her acquaintance, was an immense part of her broad appeal. The blonde was at equally at ease shopping at the local discount retailer as she was ordering a haute couture gown. Directly from the designer.
Collette hailed from old money, is educated by one of the best academic institutions west of the Mississippi, and could easily have married old money and led a life of comfort and leisure. Yet Jordan's spirited friend also had a rebellious streak that compelled her to buck tradition, much to her parents' express disapproval, for the independent blonde carved out an impressive niche in corporate law. It saddened Jordan to know one day their friendship would end, for time would ravage her mortal friend, but would leave Jordan untouched.
"Honey, if it'll affect my health, I want to know. You can't be too careful. Besides, that health privacy hogwash -"
"Health information portability accountability act." Jordan helpfully provided.
"Yeah, that thing – it only covers so much; lots of other information is available and beyond its reach. With everything in life, if there's a will, there's a way to get it. You know what I say? 'No regrets, Baby'. Let me tell you what I did to Tarik last night. Do you know the amazing things you can do to a guy with a glazed donut …"
"Stop! I don't need to hear this. Too much information, Coll."
"I swear, Jordie – you sound just like my grandmother."
"You talk about your sex life with your grandmother?!" Jordan asked with a horrified expression on her face as she took a large bite of her chili cheeseburger. Collette leaned forward and fixed her pale blue eyes on the Immortal.
"No – but if I did, she'd sound just like you! I swear, sometimes you act as if you were born a couple decades too early! Don't be so virginal. It's so not you. You know what they say: 'All work and no play makes Jordan an Old Maid' – or something like that." Jordan raised an eyebrow at that but didn't comment.
"So, was your last guy dynamite between the sheets? Was he good at bringing you to the big 'O'?" her friend eagerly asked.
A handsome, dark haired man in an expensive business suit walked by their table –well within earshot – just as Collette asked her bawdy question. Jordan choked on her food; if that wasn't bad enough, her eyes started to tear up. The Immortal was certain she would next be spewing spicy chili chunks thru her nose if she didn't clear her windpipe soon.
"Stop it, Jordie – I don't know C.P.R." Collette hissed as she thumped her friend on her back.
Red faced, Jordan glared at her friend as she coughed uncontrollably. With a concerned expression on his handsome face, the man stopped to assist.
"I believe the Heimlich maneuver would work better in this situation." He interjected as he moved to stand behind Jordan.
The Immortal waved them both away, and braced her hands on the table, attempting to dislodge the chili in her throat.
Taking a step back, the man placed Jordan's soda before her; gratefully, the Immortal took a sip.
"Will you be okay?" He asked kindly; Jordan could only nod in response as she wiped her mouth and nose.
"She'll be fine, Hon. Just in case she's not, what's your number so she can call you?" Collette asked, slanting a coquettish look up at him. Holding up his left hand, the thick gold band on his finger glared back at the blonde.
"Too bad." Collette murmured, fluttering her lashes at him. He simply smiled before turning to Jordan.
"Are you sure I can't get you anything?" he asked.
"Thank you – I'll be fine." Jordan gasped with a weak smile.
With a nod to the Immortal and a wink to Collette, the man walked away. Collette unexpectedly thumped her friend on the back once more for good measure. Jordan's glare was lost on her friend as the blonde wistfully gazed after the handsome man's retreating figure before she resumed their previously interrupted conversation.
"So, was he?" Collette persisted.
"I can't believe you, Coll! Can we please change the subject?" Jordan exclaimed as she took another sip of soda.
"Not till you answer my question. Well – spill! What happened?" Jordan's green eyes followed the man in the business suit.
"I didn't get the chance to find out. We were . . . interrupted." The Immortal's lips tightened at the memory.
"Couldn't get the mood back?" Collette asked sympathetically.
More like 'Didn't want to' Jordan thought to herself.
"No." Jordan said her tone curt.
"Oooh – did I hit a nerve or something?" Collette asked; her gossip radar was going haywire.
"Or something." Jordan said tersely. The blonde made an exasperated noise.
"Jor, am I going to have to pry every single detail out of you?"
"Of course!" the Immortal cheerfully replied. Collette glanced at her watch.
"Some other time, Jordie. My lunch break is over, and the boss is going to have my head if I'm not back, pronto. Speaking of head, I read an article with tips on how to give -"
"Collette!"
"Fine. I smell a good story. Don't think this is over – consider it postponed. I'll call you later, okay? In the meantime, page 104. I strongly suggest you read it. Slowly."
With a smirk, the blonde casually tossed the latest issue of Cosmopolitan magazine on the table. A soft breeze ruffled the glossy pages and blew it open to an article entitled '10 Surefire ways to get your Lover Hot'.
"It's a sign, Jor!" Collette declared as she waggled her perfectly shaped eyebrows at her friend. Jordan laughed as she watched her friend gather her purse before she walked away.
"Tootles, Jordie!"
"Stay out of trouble, Coll!" the Immortal called after her.
"Never!" her friend replied.
The blonde tossed a kiss over her shoulder, leaving Jordan to stare after her with an exasperated smile. And the check. : : : :
#
Looking at her reflection in the mirror, the same face looked back at Jordan, but . . .
"I feel different. I feel . . . alive." The Immortal murmured before she laughed at herself, fully aware there was no outward physical change.
Later, Jordan planned to visit the House of Healing. Surely Læurenthail needed help, and maybe she'd in turn be willing to help Jordan with her hair. The Immortal walked to the table and raised a domed lid; the fresh fruit looked tempting, as did the oatcakes, yet Jordan instead chose a large piece of Lembas for breakfast. She was starting to develop a taste for the enchanted Elvish foodstuff, often preferring it to something more substantial. Brushing the crumbs from her hands, the Immortal began to make her bed, humming softly to herself when she happened to glance down; Jordan's eyes widened in dismay when she saw the dried blood on the otherwise pristine sheets.
"Oh no!" she breathed. Quickly gathering the soiled bed sheet, Jordan brought water from her pitcher and poured it on to the sheet. She rubbed the material together, which only made the stains spread instead of fade.
"Damn." She whispered to herself.
Jordan could only imagine what fuel it would provide for the rumor mill. Certainly gossip transcended cultures, times and realities. For a moment Jordan considered throwing the linen into the fire.
"No. . . willful destruction of Lord Elrond's property isn't an option, Jordie." she said aloud.
Jordan was quite reluctant to have the Elves handle the soiled sheets. Especially if Legolas was spotted leaving her quarters. Clutching the linen to her chest, Jordan sat down heavily onto the feather mattress.
"Maybe they'll think I'm on my period." She reasoned. Even if that were the case, Jordan didn't want someone else to clean her sheets; it was a quirk of hers that no one would know of her body functions, much less her intimate activities.
"Wait – do she-Elves even have periods?" Jordan wondered aloud.
Don't be stupid, Jordie. Elves have relationships, too. Her logical mind reasoned.
"Yes, but with Women? They'll know we were together last night."
You like him, he obviously likes you. Big deal.
"But I don't want to advertise the fact we slept together last night." She told herself.
The Elves have better things to do than worry about with whom you're sleeping with; nor is it a matter of Rivendell security. Everyone's going to find out sooner or later that you and the Elf are lovers. If you're smart, you'd choose sooner. Jordan couldn't argue the logic of her rational mind.
There was no way around it; she would have to wash it by hand herself. Emptying the medicinal satchel, Jordan stuffed the soiled linen inside. Hurriedly gathering her toiletries, Jordan wrapped them in a clean dressing robe and tucked it under her arm as she pulled open the door. Ceallach breezed in before Jordan could think of a plausible excuse to bar her entry.
"Ceallach!" the Elven maiden's name came out as a squeak.
"Good morn, Lady Jordan." The maiden replied; she held a fresh set of linen in her arms.
Was Jordan imagining it, or did the she-Elf's eyes hold a knowing gleam? The servant didn't ask why the bed was already stripped as she quickly and efficiently made the bed. With her task completed, the she-Elf looked around.
"Er, good morn, Ceallach. Thank you for making the bed. Uh, I was just on my way to the bathing room." Jordan said.
"Where is the other sheet Lady Jordan?" the she-Elf asked, frowning as she looked about the room. The Immortal remained quiet as Ceallach's gaze settled on the satchel in Jordan's hand. In her haste, Jordan failed to notice a length of linen spilling out of the satchel.
"Is the sheet within?" the servant asked, walking towards her. Jordan gave the she-Elf a weak smile.
"Let me see to it for you, Lady." Ceallach reached for the sheet.
"No, no – I'll take care of it." Jordan replied, backing away.
"It is my duty to attend these matters. Lady Jordan, please - !" Ceallach caught hold of the sheet.
"Ceallach, no – I'll wash this." The Immortal insisted.
"My Lady, please!"
Sternly the servant gazed at the woman. Ceallach couldn't understand why Lord Legolas bore with humans. They could be most unreasonable as well as emotionally unstable, behaving like unruly children. Reluctantly, Jordan surrendered the linen to the most determined she-Elf.
"Thank you, Lady Jordan." Ceallach sniffed, mentally adding 'unpredictable' to the undesirable qualities inherent to Mortals.
#
Returning to his quarters, Legolas' eyes fell upon the scroll resting in the middle of the bed. Ignoring it for the moment, the Wood Elf bathed and changed his raiment. Sprawled comfortably upon the bed, the Elf opened the hard leather case and tapped out the scroll. He immediately recognized the imprint exclusive to the Royal House of Mirkwood. Legolas' eyes narrowed thoughtfully as he broke the wax seal.
"Father is never one to write letters." the Prince mused to himself. Unrolling the scroll, the elegant, Elvish script was written in his father's bold, flowing hand. Legolas quickly scanned the parchment.
"Nor does he favor lengthy correspondence." He murmured softly, for the missive was brief and to the point.
With a sigh, Legolas re-rolled the scroll and returned it to its case. The Wood Elf calculated he must leave no later than daybreak on the morrow to arrive in time. A seasoned warrior, Legolas was accustomed to speedy travel at a mere moment's notice.
The Mirkwood Elf's thoughts turned to Jordan, and his discovery of her lack of injuries. The answers he sought would have to wait until his return, unless . . . she accompanies him. Yes! Legolas thought, liking the idea immensely. Should the Lady agree to the journey him, he could both keep her close, and draw from her the answers which he sought as they traveled together.
Legolas decided he would ask Jordan straightaway. Rising from the bed, the Mirkwood Elf decided to first seek out Gimli, before requesting from Lord Elrond the necessary provisions required for their soon departure.
It did not take the Prince long to locate the Elf-friend, for within Imladris, there were only three places where the Dwarf was sure to be found: the eating halls, the smithy or the tannery. It was at the latter where the Prince found his friend for the Dwarf was having the handles of his small throwing axes wrapped with new leather. He silently watched the Dwarf heft and swing the axes, testing the grip before throwing them at a thick wood stump. Grunting his satisfaction, Gimli turned to see Legolas leaning against the door, his arms crossed over his chest.
"What are you about, Laddie?"
"Searching for you, Spangaer (bearded One); I am summoned home for a distant relation's Binding Ceremony. Will you join me?"
"How long do you plan to stay?" Gimli asked. The Elf shrugged.
"A fortnight. Maybe less. What say you?"
"Nay; I have matters to attend to here, and wish to prepare for our journey to Gondor. I have been corresponding with King Elessar about restoring the White City, and am expecting his reply."
Legolas wasn't surprised the Dwarf chose to remain in Imladris; not overly fond of travel by horseback, it did not help matters that the Elf Prince's father, King Thranduil had held Gimli's father, Glóin, against his will for a time. Although he and Gimli's friendship was steadfast, it was much too soon to expect the long held prejudices between the Elves and Dwarves to be reconciled in so short a time. However, the fact that Gimli and Legolas called each other 'friend', is a step in the right direction towards restoring good will between the two cultures.
"Very well, Mellon (friend); should you change your mind, I plan to leave early on the morrow." Gimli grunted and turned his attention back to his throwing axes.
"And what of the Lady?" Gimli inquired as he retrieved his weapons. Squinting at the newly wrapped handles, the Dwarf adjusted a section of the leather wrapping.
"I have yet to ask her to accompany me." Legolas replied.
"Really?" Gimli looked at the Elf, his bushy eyebrows raised with interest.
"Really." With a smile, the Elf turned to leave as the Dwarf chuckled.
#
The Watcher groggily eyed the Immortals as they entered the bar.
"You guys just couldn't wait for the morning, could you?"
"It is morning, Joe; I have nothing to do with it. Talk to MacLeod here. Besides, a Watcher's job is never done." Methos flippantly countered, absolving himself of any blame. The Ancient one slid onto a stool and laid his head down on the counter.
"Smart ass." Joe muttered. "Hell, it doesn't matter anymore. What's up?"
"Grab your coat, Joe." Duncan instructed as he leaned against the counter.
"Where we going?" the Watcher asked.
"Back to Gregory's." the Highlander replied.
"That's what I thought you said. Mac – it's early. The guy may not even be open."
"He'll be open for a friend." Duncan said confidently.
Joe sighed; it was useless to argue with the Immortal when he set his mind to something. The Watcher went to his back office and retrieved his favorite plaid blazer. Shrugging into it, Joe returned to the bar; Methos was already outside; standing beside a waiting taxi; the Old Man was talking on his cell phone. Duncan was still inside, waiting for his Watcher.
"Do you have someone to mind the bar, Joe? This could take all day if Gregory's not in."
"Yeah, there's nothing important that I need to see to. 'Sides, Lou's good; he'll manage the place just fine." Duncan slid off the stool.
"Then let's go." The Highlander said. Outside, Methos signaled for his companions to enter the car as he finished his conversation.
"Keep checking with Gregory until we get back. Yeah . . . thanks. Gotta go." Methos murmured into his mobile phone.
The Ancient tucked his phone away, quietly watching as Joe locked the doors to the bar. The taxi ride to Gregory's shop was quick and uneventful, one of the advantages of traveling before the morning traffic rush. Standing outside Gregory's shoppe, the Highlander and his Watcher waited as Methos paid the driver. Turning to his charge, Joe raised a grey brow.
"You sure this couldn't wait until normal business hours?" Joe asked skeptically.
"Yes, I am." Duncan replied.
"Okay, Mac – why are we really here?" The Watcher asked tiredly.
"Like I said, Joe - I need to talk to Gregory"
"And you need me here for that?!"
"You're my Watcher; right?"
"Yeah, so? That doesn't mean we're attached at the hip, Mac." Joe said, giving his charge an exasperated look.
"Which is why you followed me to Glenfinnan." Duncan answered with grin
"Round one to MacLeod, Joe." Methos said, overhearing the exchange; Joe gave the Old Man a dirty look and ignored the comment. Methos silently gazed at something down the street before he turned away.
"I saw her." Duncan said quietly.
"Who?" the Watcher asked, confused. He looked first in one direction of the rue, then the other; there was no one else around save the trio outside the shop.
"Who do you think, Joe? Jordie!" The Highlander replied. Joe perked up at the good news; his face broke out in a smile.
"Wait a minute – Jordie? You saw her? That's great! Where was she - across the street? Which way was she headed? Let's go get her."
"I saw her in the Stone." Duncan said.
"In the Stone?" echoed the Watcher uncertainly, not sure he was hearing the Immortal correctly.
"In the Stone, Joe." The Highlander repeated again.
"Why can't things ever be simple with you Immortals?" Methos snorted at that comment and muttered something Joe didn't quite catch.
"You got something to say?" Joe asked, turning towards the other Immortal; the Ancient One merely smiled and held his hands up in mock surrender; irritating Joe was something of a favorite past time, especially when the Watcher was cranky to begin with.
"If only it were that simple, Joe." Methos murmured softly as he peered into the store. The lights were on, but no one was inside.
"Well, let's see if anyone's home." Duncan said.
The Highlander rapped sharply on the glass pane, then rapped again. The interior brightened as a light came on. With a smug expression on his face, Duncan turned to his companions.
"See? He's in."
Gregory appeared; recognizing his visitors, a smile broke out on his whiskered face as he hurried towards the door. The sound of the tumblers turning seemed inordinately loud in the quiet early morning as Gregory unlocked the door, pulling it wide open.
"Well, look who's here bright and early! Your timing is perfect. Come in – come in. I was about to have a spot of tea. I insist you join me."
Duncan followed, apologizing to the older man as he led the men to his study; Gregory good-naturedly waved aside the Highlander's words, instructing them to sit; their host passed around a plate heaped with buttery croissants as he poured the tea. Methos chose to stand as Joe and Duncan seated themselves in the chairs across from Gregory
Gregory gave no outward indication that he thought it odd to be entertaining unannounced guests, discussing mundane matters over a very early breakfast - before daybreak, as a matter of fact. The Highlander cleared his throat, unsure how to broach the topic. Current events, antiques and history – yes, but . . . magic was not something he discussed on a regular basis.
To acknowledge it was one thing, to use it was another; the essences of other Immortals whose Quickening the Highlander received over the centuries – their skills, knowledge and powers, he used without conscious effort or thought. However, to specifically seek and successfully command the abilities of the Sorcerer – and for it to actually work was an entirely different matter. It took a little getting used to. Even for Duncan. The Highlander gave his companions a pointed look. The Eldest took the hint.
"I believe it's time we go." Methos said as he placed his empty teacup on the tray.
With a pointed look at Joe, the Eldest gestured towards the hidden room. Hurriedly finishing his croissant, the Watcher grabbed his cane and waited, ready. Gregory looked at Methos with a tiny, secretive smile hovering around his lips; he rose and walked with the Eldest towards the partition. Gregory lowered his voice, his words meant for the Methos alone.
"It is time. You know the way, do you not?" their host asked. Methos nodded slowly.
"We'll find it." He replied with a confidence he did not feel.
"The way is open, Thanatos." Gregory said as he pushed the heavy drape aside and opened the door.
"Hey, Adam, wait up." The Watcher called. Methos paused in the entry as Joe climbed to his feet.
"Joe, are you sure you want to do this?" he asked his friend.
"Whaddaya mean? Of course I do. It's only air." Joe said, not understanding the concern in Methos' voice.
"Wouldn't you rather take a walk down to the Boulanger (bakery) out front?" Methos asked, trying to dissuade the Watcher.
"They're closed, Adam, remember? We're up before the cocks crow. What – you tryin' to get rid of me?" Joe asked.
"You're a pretty sharp guy, y'know that, Joe?" the Ancient One said sarcastically. Their good-natured bickering continued and faded as the men took a walk in the pre-dawn forest. Their host watched them until they disappeared around the bend. Leaving the door open, Gregory returned to the waiting Highlander.
"What's on your mind, Duncan?" Gregory asked.
"Gregory. . . I know this may sound strange, but…well, that crystal ball of yours really works."
"Does it, now?"
"Gregory, please don't play games with me. That Stone of yours - I saw Jordie in it. I actually saw her. The question is: how is it possible?" Duncan asked.
The Older gentleman rose and gestured towards the alcove where the others had passed. Duncan stood and walked towards the room.
"Duncan, sometimes we see what is, what has passed . . . or what has yet to come to pass. Have you stopped to consider that you're close to your goal – closer than you think?" Gregory asked. The Highlander just stared at him.
"What does your heart tell you about Jordan?" The older gentleman asked. They were standing at the threshold now.
"That she's alive. I would feel it if she weren't." The Highlander was becoming frustrated, for the conversation was going in circles.
"Then hold to that. Sometimes the heart knows what our eyes do not see." Opening the door wider, Gregory looked out towards the woods.
"Go with your friends, Duncan. They are waiting for you. A stroll invigorates the mind, as well as the body. . . And could lead to enlightenment as well. Perhaps you will discover that for yourself." The older gentleman moved aside to allow the Highlander to walk past.
Although the Highlander wanted to get a more conclusive answer from the older gentleman, Duncan found himself doing as Gregory suggested. Framed in the doorway, Gregory crossed his arms over his chest and smiled. He waited until Duncan disappeared around the bend before he closed the door and drew the partition, once again concealing the entry.
#
"Come." The Half-Elf bade.
Looking up from the scrolls, Lord Elrond watched as Legolas entered the Ruler's library and stopped before his desk. The Wood Elf's head was bowed in respectful deference as he waited to be addressed. Though the Ruler's timeless face was composed, inside Elrond was chuckling. It was now common knowledge throughout Imladris the Mirkwood Prince had spent his night and early morning with the Lady Waters . . who yet slumbers.
"Legolas, how may I be of service to you?"
Legolas' head jerked up and his body stiffened. He felt . . . something. A ripple of awareness spread out, alerting his keen senses. The Mirkwood Prince shifted his ocean blue gaze to the Ruler.
"Did you feel that, my Lord?"
"Aye, Prince." Elrond replied warily.
"What do you suppose that was?" Legolas asked. Elrond's eyes took on a distant look as he used his Gift to decipher the disturbance.
"Something stirs in the west . . . what it is, I cannot say for certain, Prince." Legolas nodded. The Wood Elf thought back to the previous night, when he felt the gaze of unseen eyes.
"Until that which is hidden makes itself known, what may I do for you?" Having no choice but to deal with the present situation at hand, Legolas regretfully stated his reason for coming.
"My Lord, I have been summoned home. I must leave soon, no later than daybreak by the morrow. I expect to be gone a fort night."
"Do you travel alone?" Elrond inquired.
"I've yet to ask the Lady Waters to accompany me. Master Gimli has elected to remain behind to tend to his correspondence with King Elessar . . . and, I suspect, because he is not fond of traveling by horse. May I impose upon your hospitality on their behalf a while longer?" Legolas replied.
"You need not even ask. Provisions will be supplied. Please send your father my regards."
"Thank you, my Lord. By your leave, I will make haste to depart." Legolas touched his hand to his heart, then his forehead before taking his leave.
#
" Help . . . ?" Jordan held up her severed braid, still fastened by the leather tie.
"Of course - come, sit here." taking the severed length of hair from the woman, the Healer passed it to an Apprentice; lifting a pair of shears, Laeurenthail took hold of Jordan's hair as the woman closed her eyes.
snip, snip . . . snip
The she-Elf passed the freshly shorn hair to the waiting Apprentice - who, at her soft command, disappeared around the corner. Jordan's formerly waist-length raven hair now reached her shoulder blades. The woman ran her hands through her hair; she didn't count the missing length a total loss, for her head felt lighter, and the ends curled up slightly – courtesy of her paternal grandfather. After thanking the she-Elf, Jordan turned to leave.
"Lady Jordan - for you to do as you wish." the Apprentice had returned, and presented the woman with her shorn hair, cunningly woven into a unique braid. Laughing, Jordan thanked him, and took the slender rope, admiring how the ends were securely tied to prevent unraveling.
Whew – so glad to finally be outta there. Jordan thought.
From the moment the Immortal appeared in the House, no matter what part of the House she went, all conversation ceased for a beat before the Elves would begin to whisper amongst themselves in their musical language. Jordan didn't doubt they were talking about her, for the Elves – whether they were Apprentices, Healers, or seeking aid, would send either a sly look her way, a smile, a frown, or would titter behind their hands; it was an extremely disconcerting and uncomfortable feeling. Relieved to get away, the Immortal returned to her quarters. Once inside, Jordan stopped short when she saw Legolas. He was outside leaning against the balcony railing with his back towards her. Quietly closing the door, Jordan briefly touched her hair, wondering what he'd think before she quickly smoothed her gown down; she had not taken two steps when he turned around.
"Hi." She shyly greeted the Elf. It is the first time she'd seen him all day, since waking alone in her bed.
"Hello. Jordan, I must speak with you." Legolas said as he walked towards her. Lifting a length of her shortened hair, he brushed it across his lips; Jordan lifted her braid-rope with a rueful smile, before placing it atop the table. Legolas studied Jordan's face as he caressed her cheek. Wrapping an arm about her waist, he held her close and kissed her; she felt it all the way to her toes.
"You wanted to speak to me . . . ?" She asked cautiously.
"I have received a summons from my father. He bids me return to my home in Mirkwood."
"Oh." Jordan didn't know what to say or how to react.
Here it comes - this is the part where he tells me: 'last night was great, can you find your way out?' I guess Nanay and all my Aunties were right, I should've waited until marriage. Jordan thought sardonically to herself.
The Immortal wondered if this was the Elven equivalent of 'wham, bam, thank you ma'am – don't call me, I'll call you.'
"My presence is required for a distant cousin's binding ceremony."
"And what exactly is a 'binding ceremony'?" Jordan asked.
The images in her mind weren't exactly pleasant; her maternal great-great-great grandmother had had a 'binding' ritual performed as a child, where her toes were broken and bound – wrapped tightly and over time, contorted to resemble a lotus bud, symbolizing gentility and high birth. Jordan shuddered. She vaguely heard what Legolas was saying.
"Jordan?" the Elf asked. Coming out of her thoughts, Jordan looked at Legolas blankly.
"Hmm?"
"What is your answer?" the Prince asked with a smile on his face. Jordan knew if she were to lose her head today, the image she wished to see before she died would be the Elf's smile.
"'Answer'? What was the question?" Jordan asked.
Legolas looked at her oddly and sighed inwardly. It was unfamiliar ground for the Elf; not ever lacking offers for female companionship, Legolas never before asked a female to accompany him – home, that is, for he'd never felt even the faintest desire to bring one home to Mirkwood.
"I was hoping you would consider accompanying me - I would like to show you my home. And introduce you to my father." Legolas said.
"Meet your Father?! I'm honored - I really don't know what to say…" that was the last thing Jordan expected him to say.
"Say you will accompany me." Legolas encouraged, hoping she would agree.
"When are you leaving?" she asked.
"Before daybreak on the morrow." He answered.
"So soon?" the Immortal asked. Legolas nodded, watching her face, wondering what she was thinking.
"Is Gimli coming?" Jordan asked.
"Nay; there are matters he needs to tend before we journey to Gondor." Legolas replied. Jordan mulled it over in her mind, mentally ticking off the pros and cons in her head, she had more cons than pros.
Let's see. No indoor plumbing, Legolas seeing me at my less than best, at least two days riding hard on horseback, no less . . . Nope, can't do it.
Much as she wanted to spend every waking (even sleeping) moment with the Elf, the thought of roughing it in the most primitive conditions did not appeal to her.
"Uh, we-ell…"
"You will not accompany me" Legolas stated flatly, seeing her decision in her eyes.
Jordan could not tell from his outward expression if he was angry or upset, but she could sense his disappointment. Back peddling to take the sting out of her unsaid answer, she tried to reason logically.
"You'll travel faster without me. I'll only slow you down. I also promised Laurenthail I would help Ciercë gather herbs and stuff to restock the stores before the season changes."
"I understand. If that is your decision, then may I ask something of you?" Legolas replied. The keen disappointment was yet another new, unfamiliar feeling for the Elf, yet he could not argue with her logic and reluctantly accepted her decision.
"That depends . . . if I can." Jordan answered slowly.
"Promise me you will not do anything. . . rash while I am away." The Elf lifted a shortened lock, brushing it across his lips.
"And how would you define 'rash'?" Jordan asked; the simple act made her pulse quicken just a little.
"Promise me you will not attempt to return to your home before I return. Will you do that for me?" Legolas murmured.
Jordan looked at the Elf, speechless; the thought had not crossed her mind. The Immortal dared not read too much into his words, not wanting to presume too much, yet unable to quell the yet unrecognized emotion that swelled in her breast. Legolas kissed her softly, then more insistently. Jordan's arms encircled his neck as she pressed herself against him, moved that Legolas wanted to find her in Rivendell upon his return.
"Mmmm . . . "
"Will you swear to it?" Legolas asked.
He didn't give her a chance to reply as his lips covered hers once more. Sliding his hands down her sides, the Immortal lost herself in his kiss, not noticing his fingers gathering her gown, inching the velvety material upwards. Their lips never once lost contact as the Elf slowly backed them towards the bed, determined to seduce, if necessary, the answer he wanted from her. Turning them around, Legolas sat upon the edge, the Mirkwood Prince's long fingers grasped Jordan's hips and pulled her astride his lap, settling her directly onto his hardened elfhood, the soft leather of his breeches the only barrier between them. Under the hem of her gown, Legolas slipped a hand between them and inserted a long finger into her warm folds, pleased to find his fingers drenched with her intimate nectar. If his hand wasn't at her back holding her steady, Jordan was certain she'd topple over. She literally felt like putty in his hands.
There're definitely benefits to not wearing panties. . ! Jordan dazedly thought.
The Elf unerringly found her hidden bundle of nerves and expertly manipulated it, making Jordan gasp as her head fell back, unable to stifle the low moan that escaped her lips. Grasping his shoulders, the Immortal rose up slightly on her knees to allow him greater access. Legolas decided he preferred Jordan naked in his lap; with his free hand, he moved to rid the Immortal of her clothes. Thinking the same thoughts, Jordan quickly doffed her gown as the Elf untied his breeches, freeing his swollen member from its uncomfortable confines.
Legolas swirled his tongue around one nipple, before drawing as much of the soft flesh in his mouth, gently biting and suckling, before repeating the action to her other breast; grasping Jordan's hips with his hands, he held her over his elfhood. Gritting his teeth, the Prince continued to hold Jordan away, even as she teased the pointed tips of his ears with her tongue, determined to make her promise to wait for him.
"Swear to it." Legolas murmured huskily.
"Legolas . . . !" the Immortal breathed, clutching his shoulders, trying to close the gap between their lower halves. Looking into his azure eyes, Jordan didn't think she could refuse him anything.
"Swear to it, Melamin. . . " The Elf seductively urged his lover. Watching her face, Legolas slowly impaled her upon his stiff member, stopping after lowering her a few inches. Keeping a tight grip on her hips, he raised and lowered her just a little more each time, all the while ensuring the swollen tip on his elfhood rubbed against her highly sensitive nub of nerves.
"Please, Legolas - I swear I'll . . . be here. . . when you . . . come . . . back." Jordan moaned; she clutched his wrists, trying to remove them from her hips. Jordan strained to fully complete their union; she wanted him badly, but the Elf wouldn't allow it. . . just yet. His grip was like steel, holding her suspended - despite her best efforts.
Satisfied with her answer, Legolas rolled Jordan on to her back. Bracing his arms on either side of her head, the Elf watched his reflection in the woman's eyes as he slowly buried his full length within her; Jordan clutched him closer, wanting all her lover was willing to give. The cords in Legolas' neck stood out as he forced himself to keep a slow, steady pace, before changing the rhythm of his strokes. Entwining his fingers with hers, the Elf raised Jordan's arms above her head, pounding into his lover with shorter, faster thrusts, and then rocking slowly against her pleasure nerve. The Immortal's hips rose and twisted, undulating beneath the Elf; her warm folds and intimate muscles surrounded his member with a heated, rhythmic hug of its own; Legolas tirelessly varied his rhythm – unrelenting, long continuous strokes kept friction against Jordan's pleasure center. The Immortal writhed against him, her moans of pleasure becoming so loud, Legolas muffled her cries with his hot kisses, sucking on her tongue and ravishing her mouth with his own. The Elf intended to leave Jordan - as well as himself - with a vivid memory of them together, lost in bliss until he was once again by her side.
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Only One	By : HollyHobbit13 Category: Lord of the Rings Movies > Crossovers Views: 4468 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
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Only One