Adult-FanFiction.org : Lord of the Rings

Only One
By : HollyHobbit13
Category: Lord of the Rings Movies > Crossovers
Views: 4468 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: See full disclaimer below.
Chapter List
- 24
- 25
- 26
Stopping by Jordan’s quarters to retrieve a dressing robe, the lovers quickly made their way thru the halls towards their destination.   Jordan did not think it strange they encountered nary a soul. Legolas, on the other hand, knew better. When the Wood Elf closed the doors to the bathing room, Ceallach appeared from an adjacent hallway, silently tending her duties as she kept the bathing room doors within sight. In fact, one could almost say she was guarding the entrance. Inside the washroom, the Immortal and the Elf faced each other. Legolas rode virtually non-stop to return to Jordan; now they were together, and he meant to claim his prize and savor their time together alone. Over his lover’s shoulder, the Wood Elf’s gaze swept the room. Legolas smiled inwardly as he noted the piles of fluffy cushions and towels placed within reach.
You will be rewarded, Ceallach. The Prince thought to himself as his sharp ears detected her movements in the hall.
The she-Elf’s aid in the courting of the Wood Elf’s chosen was most appreciated -- especially when Legolas heard the muted tones of laughter and conversation approaching. Before the group of she-Elves could even approach the doors, they were met by the most determined she-servant, who regretfully informed the Elven maidens the common room was unavailable; the bewildered she-Elves were unaware of the reason why it was so, and the servant was not about to tell them, either. Instead, Ceallach quickly suggested another toilet room featuring an equally delightful steam room available for their use. Though hard pressed to produce a plausible reason, the resourceful she-Elf managed to discretely and diplomatically turn away the cluster of disappointed maidens from entering, thereby ensuring the Mirkwood Prince and his consort would be undisturbed. The puzzled she-Elves murmured amongst themselves as they moved along. Inside, Jordan was blissfully unaware of the happenings beyond the room, and well her surroundings, for her attention was focused solely on the magnificent Elf before her. Since Legolas’ unexpected return, the sight of her lover both jarred and thrilled the woman; Jordan was overcome with a myriad of emotions that left her both giddy and flustered.
Legolas reached for his lover; without hesitation, Jordan went to him. Once her tunic was open and the gentle curve of her bosom revealed, the Elf dipped his head down to kiss her sweetly curved mounds, teasing her nipples to attention with his tongue. Jordan sighed and buried her left hand in the Elf’s silky hair. Closing her eyes, she sighed as she concentrated on the sensations he evoked; before she knew it, Legolas had expertly divested the Immortal of her clothes and laid them on the nearby stone bench. Jordan felt the blood rush to her face, staining her cheeks pink. Despite their established intimacy, the Immortal felt both embarrassed and excited by her nakedness; eager to see Legolas naked as well, Jordan’s removal of the Elf’s clothes was slower in comparison. When the Immortal reached his breeches, the Elf watched Jordan’s reaction to the burgeoning erection he had been fighting all day, especially when he came upon her in the storeroom. The Immortal raised an interested eyebrow at its straining readiness.

"It has been this way since we parted, Melamin," Legolas murmured.
“Does it hurt?” she asked softly, teasingly.
“You do not know what I suffer.” He replied.
“Can I relieve your suffering . . .?” Jordan queried with a tiny smile.
“Aye . . .” Legolas said thickly, watching her sink to her knees.
Jordan slowly undid the ties of his breeches, and carefully eased the soft leather down his narrow hips and past his long, muscular thighs. Legolas’ erection sprang free; with a smile on her face, the Immortal lightly stroked the length of his elfhood, before gently cupping the sensitive sac beneath. The Mirkwood Elf groaned as his lover placed tiny kisses all along his thighs, and hips; with considerable effort, Legolas kept his breathing measured and even. Lightly, Jordan’s hands roamed over Legolas’ thighs before kneading and stroking his taut buttocks, her lips mere inches away from his swollen member; Legolas’ long fingers buried themselves in the Immortal’s ebony hair as he closed his eyes in anticipation . . .
“Legolas, will you help me with your boots?”
The Elf opened his eyes to see Jordan on her knees looking up at him, waiting for him to lift a booted foot. With a growl of frustration, he gently grasped his lover by the shoulders and hauled her to her feet.
“Minx!” Legolas exclaimed huskily.
On his face was an expression that was part amusement and part frustration. Jordan continued to surprise him in little ways that often caused him to pause and mentally re-group. This woman certainly kept him guessing, and Legolas would not have it any other way.
“What?” Jordan asked innocently.
The Elf would almost believe her to be sincere, had not the smile Jordan struggled to contain revealed itself; he could think of a better use for her lovely mouth – and given his present state, laughter was definitely not one of them - at least for the moment.
“Enjoy your mirth, Melamin . . .,” the Elf said cryptically
With practiced ease, the Wood Elf kicked off his boots.
We shall see if you still laugh when I am done with you. he thought to himself.
Taking Jordan in his arms, Legolas delighted in the feel of her bare skin next to his. With an impish grin on her face, the Immortal took the Elf’s hands in her own and led him into the pool. The warm water enveloped the Immortal; the feel of it was almost as seductive as the Elf’s slow kiss. When the water reached her chest, Jordan wrapped her legs around Legolas’ waist as he waded towards the deep center of the pool. The Crown Prince came to a stop under the statue of the she-Elf with the urn; with Jordan’s forehead tucked in the curve of the Elf’s neck, Legolas held her under the fountain long enough to wet her hair, completely rinsing away all traces of the Lembas flour.
                  “Now I can see you, Melamin.” Legolas teasingly said as Jordan blinked away the drops of water from her eyelashes.
                  “Now you don’t . . .!” Jordan whispered with a mischievous grin.
Taking a deep breath, Jordan clasped Legolas shoulders and threw all her weight back. The move caught the Elf by surprise; Jordan’s sudden and unexpected weight shift pulled Legolas off balance, and the Mirkwood Prince fell face forward into the water. Submerged, the Elf’s long, golden hair swirled about his head, obscuring his view and forcing him to release his lover. Jordan took advantage of the Elf’s momentary discomposure by swimming away. Feeling smug, Jordan’s eyes widened when she felt Legolas’ hand encircle her ankle before he effortlessly pulled her back thru the water. Before she knew it, Jordan was back in his arms, held tightly against his chest.
“You will rue that.” Legolas promised.
The Elf managed to look both menacing and dignified despite the wet hair plastered to his beautiful face. Unable to help herself, Jordan burst out laughing as Legolas released her and ducked under the water. The Immortal’s laughter trailed off when he failed to surface. Jordan reached under the water, feeling for the Elf. There was nothing. She was not alarmed, for her lover had to come up for air sometime. Jordan was starting to feel uneasy when he still had not surfaced.
Looking around as she treads the water, the Immortal was about to dive under and search for the Elf when she thought better of it. Looking uneasily about, Jordan watched the surface of the water, looking for the telltale trail of bubbles. There was none.
“Legolas?” Jordan called.
Nothing – save the burble of the water as it cascaded from the stone urn. The steam rising from the water only increased the eerie isolation Jordan found herself in.
“Legolas! This isn’t funny anymore!” the Immortal called again.
Heart hammering in her chest, the woman ducked beneath the water; Jordan could not see the Elf -- no matter how quickly, or what direction she turned. Legolas was simply gone. The only logical conclusion, Jordan decided, was that her Elven lover had climbed out of the water as she went under in search of him. The Immortal broke the surface and blinked the water from her eyes. Jordan’s heart rate continued to rise as she turned about in the water. The rippling water seemed darker, as if the very light had fled with the Wood Elf; the plants along the wall further shadowed the section of the pool she was in. Looking around, Jordan knew the Elf must yet be with her, for his clothes still lay next to hers. Puzzled, it could only mean Legolas was still under the water . . . somewhere. He had to be. Thoroughly mystified, the woman decided it was most prudent to beat a hasty retreat to the shallow end of the pool -- at least until she could figure out this most interesting situation. Jordan began to swim back towards safety; she was halfway there when she suddenly felt hands cup and gently squeeze her breasts, and then it was gone. Startled, Jordan screamed, at least until her mouth filled with water. Sputtering indignantly, the woman reached under the water in all directions, hoping to catch a hank of his golden hair, a hand – anything. She found nothing.
                  “Two can play that game, my Prince.” The Immortal murmured, as soon as she got over her initial fright.
You can’t be far. Jordan thought as she continued her search. She was unsuccessful. Then she felt the quick squeeze on her buttocks. Jordan yelped in surprise and flailed in the water.
“Hey!” she exclaimed.
The woman reached under the surface, searching once more for something to grab and came up with nothing. Jordan ducked her head under water; peering in all directions, she saw nothing.
Impossible . . . ! She exclaimed silently.
Legolas was not there. Slicking her hair back, Jordan decided to retreat while she could, and started again for the pool’s edge. The Immortal almost screamed when she felt Legolas’ hands caress her belly before squeezing her between her legs. As quick as she could, Jordan grabbed underwater, attempting to seize any part of the Elf. Her questing hands brushed against something, and then it was gone.
Miffed, Jordan continued on her way; her feet almost touched the bottom of the pool when a huge spray of water showered her just before the Immortal was suddenly swept up into Legolas’ arms. Jordan clung to his neck.
“Looking for me, Melamin?” he asked innocently.
“No.” Jordan replied tartly.
Though her words said otherwise, Legolas noticed the woman was content to remain in his arms. It was the Elf’s turn to laugh; the sound of his mirth was as golden and beautiful to the Immortal’s ears as the Elf himself. It was also a sound Jordan wanted to drown in. Nuzzling his pointed ear with the tip of her nose, the Elf shivered slightly in response and squeezed Jordan’s derriere, eliciting a laugh from her. The Immortal placed a kiss on Legolas’ cheek and rested her wet head in the crook of his shoulder, her fingers busy undoing his warrior’s braids as he made his way back to the shallow part of the pool and deposited her on a low step. The woman’s playful mood turned pensive. The Elf smiled again, marveling at his mortal lover’s quick change of mood.
“Why are you silent, Melamin?” he asked.
“I still can’t believe you’re here.” Jordan murmured as she looked at him.
“I mean, I’m glad you are – but is everything all right back home?” she asked earnestly. Legolas chuckled with amusement at the human tendency to worry.
“Do not fret; all is well, Melamin.” He answered.
Behind her, the Elf gathered the toiletries he wished to use. Passing over the scented bars, Legolas instead scooped a handful of perfumed soft soap from a beautiful silver bowl. Sitting behind the woman, the Elf dipped the matching urn into the pool and filled it with warm water before setting on the ledge beside her. Legolas dolloped a handful of the soap onto Jordan’s hair and carefully worked it into lather as the Immortal took the urn and poured the water out, filled it and poured it again, repeating the familiar and comforting ritual. It brought back pleasant memories of her early childhood when her mother would bathe her before bed.
“And your father? How is he?” Jordan asked.
Legolas took the filled urn from the Immortal and set it on the ledge before he buried his hands in her sudsy hair. With a sigh, Jordan closed her eyes as the Mirkwood Elf’s long fingers massaged her scalp. The Immortal had not had a scalp massage since Mt. Fuji, and that was only after she had sharpened all the knives to Duncan’s satisfaction. With the strength of Legolas’ long legs on either side of her, Jordan leaned back against the Wood Elf and absently ran her hands over his thighs, feeling its hard smoothness; as her fingers traced the contours of the Elf’s defined muscles, Jordan delighted in the strength and tensile beauty of her lover’s exquisite musculature.
“You could have seen for yourself.” Legolas answered mildly before rinsing her locks free of the scented lather.
“I wish I had.” Jordan said as she slicked her hair away from her face. She did not see the Elf’s pleased expression.
“There is yet time.” Legolas ventured.
“Maybe after we see this Mithrandir.” Jordan replied.
She didn’t say more as Legolas began to rub the scented cleanser onto her back, then the ripe, soft swell of her breasts. The soap made Jordan’s skin slippery, and the Wood Elf loved the different sensation as his hands slid slowly, sensuously over her.
“Maybe.” Legolas agreed.
Jordan briefly wondered more about who this Mithrandir is, and what he could possibly do for her. She did want answers, but . . .
Somehow it doesn’t matter as much anymore. The woman decided languidly before giving herself over to the thrill the Mirkwood Elf’s skilled hands evoked.
Legolas’ hand wandered near his lover’s waist and then made their way lower; his fingers skimmed her mound before stroking her inner thighs. Gently, the Elf spread Jordan’s legs as far as they'd go; his fingers dipped into her and found what he sought. His lover’s hips arched upwards to meet his hand; the Elf began to stroke her until a low moan escaped from his lover’s mouth; Jordan’s head fell to one side, the offer was not lost to the Elf, for he licked and nipped at the curve of her neck, smiling to himself as he set his lover adrift on a sea of bliss.
“Mmmmm . . .! Jordan purred.
Unable to help herself, Jordan groaned as Legolas’ skilled fingers massaged the sensitive, hidden pearl. Bombarding her with the sensual stimuli, the Elf was relentless in his erotic onslaught, for his other hand was busy fondling and gently squeezing, taking his time as he reacquainted himself with his lover’s body; had Legolas been able to see, the Immortal’s face was a study in rapture, especially when her gasps became low, throaty moans. Jordan’s nails dug into the Wood Elf’s thighs, bracing herself, her hips moving in time with his fingers. Behind her, the Mirkwood Prince’s erection pressed into Jordan’s lower back. With one hand tangled in her wet hair, Legolas used the water to his advantage, and angled his floating lover so he could kiss her, the ministration of his hand was uninterrupted as the Mirkwood Prince brought his lover closer to her climax. Jordan was his now, ecstatic to be under his spell.
                                     The Crown Prince reached under the Immortal and lifted her out of the pool, and set the dripping woman on the fluffy piles of towels and cushions. Jordan felt no chill — only the burning desire for Legolas’ touch. His mouth met hers and in that instant, exerted an unspoken command for the Immortal to lie back, be still, and focus on him; the Elf braced himself on his forearms as he settled himself between her legs. Highly aroused and slightly puzzled why Legolas stopped, Jordan smiled uncertainly, wondering what the Elf was thinking. He was looking down at her with an intense expression that flustered her; so intense, that his impossibly blue gaze seemed to be looking thru her. The Prince was struck again by Jordan’s youthful shyness, for his lover’s hands had fluttered up to cup her breasts, shielding the swollen, sensitized mounds from his view. Legolas gazed thoughtfully at the face that, in a remarkably short span of time, had become both so dear and precious to him. Despite the reasons to rejoice in the hope of a better future, a shadow fell across the Elf’s heart. His friendship with the mortals Aragorn and Gimli had profoundly changed him -- binding him to Middle-Earth in such a way that the Golden Elf was able to resist the call of the Sea; for how long he did not know. Legolas was determined to see his mortal friend finish his triumphant reign, to witness Elessar pass the mantle of authority to his heirs, before finally resting in glory with his forebears before him. The two friends Legolas cared for most would surely be stolen from him, and he was powerless to stop time itself; Dwarves, like most creatures of Middle-Earth, were long lived. King Elessar, descended from the Dúnedain and blessed with remarkable longevity, would eventually succumb to the Gift of Men. Now there was Jordan . . . despite the fact that he knew virtually nothing about her, the Elf was sure what he felt for her.
The feelings he initially struggled against for this Daughter of Man were illogical and contrary to what Legolas had hoped for himself in the future, yet he could no longer deny his heart. The brief time Legolas spent in Mirkwood among his kin, and his solitary ride to and from his beloved forest home had been all that the Elf needed to confirm what he felt. It was a startling revelation, and the struggle was no less fierce than the battle to free Middle-earth from the Darkness. After searching for the answer among the stars, and most importantly – his heart, Legolas knew what he felt to be true. He touched Jordan’s cheek softly, tracing the contours of her face with his fingertips.
“Melin le (I love you), Jordan.” He said quietly. Legolas looked down at his lover, searching the green eyes that haunted his reveries since the day they met.
“I missed you, too, Legolas.” The Immortal replied. Raising a dark blonde brow in consternation, the Elf smiled at that, but did not bother to correct Jordan as he ran his hands along the damp expanse of her waist.
“You have neglected your Elvish in so short a time, Melamin.” Legolas chided her gently.
“Isn’t that what you said?” Jordan asked, confused.
Unfortunately, the Immortal had been neglecting her Elvish; lately, Jordan had been confusing greetings with directions and amounts. Though linguistics was not a particular strength of hers, Jordan could almost swear Latin bore a faint resemblance to Elvish. At least it sounded like it sometimes.
Good thing it did not happen in the kitchens. The Immortal thought smugly to herself.
Jordan had counted her stint in the bakery with the Apprentices as time well spent. What she did not know was that it was an opinion she alone shared.
“It will suffice, Melamin.” The Mirkwood Elf replied.
For now.   Legolas thought to himself, making a mental note to help Jordan brush up on her Elvish.
The time for talking was past, for Legolas intended to love his chosen one; the Elf reclaimed the woman’s mouth with his and kissed her silent when Jordan was about to speak, and then again until she finally got the hint.   Legolas’ eyes never left Jordan’s as he grasped her wrists gently and pulled them away from her chest. Kissing her palms, he placed her hands at her side. The Immortal did not move; Jordan watched as her lover’s fair head lowered, and closed her eyes when Legolas drew his lips to the breast he now cupped in one hand. Jordan’s hands were buried in the Elf’s golden hair, massaging his scalp. As the Wood Elf slowly circled his tongue around his lover’s aureole, her nipple rose to meet him. Legolas suckled it luxuriously, letting his lips and tongue linger as if they enjoyed the finest confection ever created; his other hand drifted downward to stroke her thighs; coaxing them apart, his long fingers cupped her mound and pressed against it, inserting one finger, then another one, feeling her feminine heat as the warm walls clenched around his fingers; hooking his fingers up, he suddenly exerted pressure on her nerve bud, squeezing her swollen nub between his fingers as he pumped his fingers in and out caused Jordan’s hips to rock, her back arch with the stab of pleasure. His lover’s pleasure made Legolas’ member harder, if that was possible. Drawing the Elf’s head up, Jordan kissed him.
“Mmmmm,” She purred against his lips.
“Does it please you, Melamin?” Legolas inquired, watching her flushed cheeks and the sparkle in her eyes.
“Maybe.” Jordan answered; her lips curved upwards, and a teasing gleam was in her eyes as she tried to act nonchalant.
Jordan pouted when Legolas removed his hand cradled her head in his hands. The Elf covered every inch of her face with tender kisses. Holding the Mirkwood Prince close to her, the Immortal lightly raked her nails down either side of his spine, and then began to knead the taut muscles of Legolas’ back as he nuzzled her neck, nipping and licking the delicate flesh of her throat. Arching her head back, Jordan’s breathing quickened as her lover began to move against her, grinding his hip against her folds in a slow, circular rhythm, each movement parting her womanly folds just a little more, to rub and press sinfully against her little center of pleasure.
Though he hungered for her, Legolas waited until his lover began to rock her hips against his; shifting restlessly, the Immortal grasped the Elf’s hips, stilling his movements as she hooked her ankles behind his thighs and pulled him closer, parting her thighs wider to receive him. Tangling her hand in his golden hair, Jordan pulled his head down, until their foreheads touched. Looking deep into his blue eyes, the woman bit her bottom lip as she boldly reached for his Elfhood, guiding the bulbous tip of his engorged shaft where she wanted it. Jordan arched up to meet the Elf when he claimed her, sliding into the Immortal in one swift motion. The sensation was exquisite -- so tightly did he fit within her, that Jordan was convinced there was nothing else quite like being loved by Legolas. Her lover’s sizeable girth pulsed and throbbed within the Immortal, stretching her nether walls and filling her until she could no longer think. Legolas repeated Jordan’s name as he thrust his hardness into her softness, quietly and under his breath, as if her name and his breathing were one and the same.
The Wood Elf continued to pump his elfhood into the woman, burying his shaft deeper within her slick, hot walls, never once hesitating, even as Jordan shook and trembled beneath him – close, she was so close . . .! When his lover did reach the crest of pleasure, Jordan felt caught up in the lightning storm of a Quickening. The pleasure so intense, Jordan’s conscience barely registered that Legolas had not reached that zenith with her. What she did feel was his hand reaching between them; the woman quivered as Legolas stroked her highly sensitized kernel, fanning the recently stoked embers of her desire for him to burning again, until the Immortal once more called out his name, her legs wrapping tighter around his sculpted torso. Legolas steadily moved within her, the excitement building again; he stroked her love nub relentlessly, not giving in to his own pleasure until his lover finally lay exhausted beneath him, too tired to even lift her head. Dimly, the Immortal heard Legolas call out her name, in time to enjoy the feel and heat of his thick essence spurting deep within her. The wild thudding of Legolas’ heartbeat echoed hers. The Wood Elf caught himself, not wanting to drop his full weight on her, yet Jordan mustered the strength to pull him close, unwilling to let him go. They lay there for several moments before Legolas rolled onto his side and pulled his happily satiated lover with him, enfolding her his arms.
#
Amin nowe ron n'kelaya (I thought they would never leave)! The she-Elf snorted to herself when the lovers finally emerged from the bathing room.
It was increasingly difficult turning away other bathers who desired the room’s use without revealing why, and the maiden was glad to be relieved of the task. Now that the room was vacated, the servant was finally free to see to her other duties. Ceallach bowed to the Prince and nodded in greeting to the woman at his side. Judging from the smile on Lady Jordan’s face, the she-Elf knew that her efforts to afford them privacy were worth it – at least for the mortal woman. As they walked further down the halls, the Elven maiden noted with a faint twinge of envy how the Lady Jordan had a slight wobble in her walk, and despite the pairs’ leisurely pace, the woman’s steps were carefully measured. Impressed, Ceallach’s gaze lingered on the Golden Elf’s retreating form, when Maranwë, another servant, happened upon her.
                  “Ceallach, is that not the Mirkwood Prince?” the fair-haired she-Elf whispered, curious.
                  “Aye.” Ceallach answered softly, her eyes not leaving the couple.
                  “There is word he returned early. Fortunate woman,” Sighed Maranwë as the Wood Elf reached out and held Jordan’s hand in his.
“The quest that claimed the Wood Elf’s attention is over and now that the danger’s past, all that . . . passion and virility is wasted on a Woman!” the Elven servant lamented.
Watching the graceful steps of the Mirkwood Elf, to the servant’s mind, the Woman’s steps were heavy and clumsy in comparison. Ceallach was thinking the very same thing, though she had better sense than to speak her thoughts. Maranwë, on the other hand, continued her prattling
“No matter, Ceallach; the Prince will be free once more whence he tires of the Mortal. Her beauty will fade and the deep night shade of her hair will lighten to ash . . . she will succumb to the Gift of Men, then Lord Legolas’ attentions will turn elsewhere--”
“Hold your tongue, Maranwë – lest it land you in the scullery!” Ceallach cut her friend off before she could say more.
“The Prince’s choice of consort is not for us to decide.” She reminded her friend gently.
“You know I speak the truth.” Maranwë sniffed with disdain in reply, watching the couple disappear around a corner. No doubt, they were headed back towards the Mortal’s quarters.
“Still, ‘tis none of our concern,” Ceallach said firmly. “Come, help me set the bathing room to rights,” she bade the other she-Elf.
Giving her friend a firm look, Ceallach grasped the fair-haired maiden’s arm and pulled her along. Flinging the doors open, the she-Elves surveyed the room. Not a single towel or cushion Ceallach had laid out was dry; the drying cloths, though wrung out and neatly folded, were wet, and the cushions were soaked thru. Puddles of water pooled around their feet from the dripping corners. In addition, the fragrant, hand milled soft soap was gone.
“What transpired here?” Maranwë asked, picking up a sodden cushion.
The gorgeous, silken fabric was ruined. Ceallach merely smiled and kept silent, remaining – as always, the epitome of discretion.
#
Jordan sighed contentedly as she sipped from the goblet the Elf handed her, feeling renewed as the Cordial of Imladris’ warmth spread throughout her body; the wondrous liquid made the Immortal feel she could go another round of sensual gymnastics with the Mirkwood Elf. Jordan swore her body tingled and hummed, and she couldn’t stop smiling. Legolas congratulated himself on having the foresight to have a flagon of Miruvor ready as he regarded his lover with amusement. He observed, with smug satisfaction, the fact that Jordan’s face glowed. If the Elf had been allowed his way, they would have dined in bed, but Jordan insisted they eat at the table, not wanting crumbs or food stains on the sheets. As they ate, Legolas was astonished with the amount of food his lover was able to put away in a single sitting. Fortunately, there was plenty of Lembas on hand should their victuals be depleted before the morning. After eating their fill, the Crown Prince told Jordan more of his return home -- the underground palace of his father, and other interesting stories before the Immortals made love again. They repeated the cycle of rest, conversation and loving (though not necessarily in that order) until Jordan begged the Elf for ‘Time Out’, and collapsed onto her pillows with a drowsy smile on her face. Soon, she was fast asleep. Invigorated and nowhere near satiated, Legolas climbed out of bed, nude. Jordan rolled over into the warm spot where the Elf recently lay, and snuggled deeper into the pillows. The Elf looked down at his lover, studying her.
. . . No matter, Ceallach; the Prince will be free once more, whence he tires of the Mortal. Her beauty will fade and the deep night shade of her hair will lighten to ash . . . she will succumb to the Gift of Men, then Lord Legolas’ attentions will turn elsewhere . . .
NO! Legolas thought fiercely to himself.
He reached into the armoire where he had earlier hidden the box. Yet, even as he vehemently denied it, the Elf recognized truth in the servant’s words as they whispered in the Prince’s mind, mocking him.
Is it worth it -- to love a mortal? How will I truly feel when Jordan’s hair loses its luster, when her eyes no longer shine with life, but become dull and rheumy? When her youthful, firm body becomes a wrinkled, ravaged shell, bowed with age? When time lines her face and she turns away in envy of my eternal youth and life – when she no longer recognizes me. . . Will I still love her? Legolas wondered. The shadows lengthened as the Elf contemplated the future.
“Yes.” The Elf whispered to her sleeping form.
It was the person within he loved; the body was merely an attractive vessel housing Jordan’s soul. Pushing the unpleasant thoughts from his mind, Legolas climbed back into his lover’s bed and slid the box beneath her pillow. The Elf paused when he felt a hard, slender object. Carefully withdrawing it, Legolas held in his hands Jordan’s katana. He studied the black lacquered scabbard critically. The baroque touches adorning the casing was unlike any he had ever seen; like the woman he had made love to, it was striking and alien. The Crown Prince was about to examine the blade when his attention was diverted; his lover whimpered in her sleep.
“ . . . Duhnn Cann. . . . ” Jordan breathed softly; her lower lip quivered, as if she were about to weep.
Dung Can. That name again. The One she called for in the forest many moons ago. Who is this ‘Dung Can’? The Elf wondered.
What is he to her? Legolas knew he could not be her past lover. Is he a friend? There would be time for him to find out, and the Elf was determined to begin unraveling the mystery on the morrow. For now, Legolas wished Jordan to rest and gather her strength, for she would need it. Brushing his lips across her cheek, the Golden Elf kissed the rounded curve of his lover’s ear and leaned close.
Keep your secrets, for now, Melamin; I shall discover for myself what they are. Legolas thought to himself.
“Lanta kaima, Melamin.” Legolas whispered and Jordan stilled once more.
It was late in the evening when Jordan awoke. Running her hands thru her raven hair, the woman winced as she encountered many snarls. The Elf, on the other hand, thought her tresses wonderfully tousled from their enthusiastic loving. Legolas’ golden hair was, as usual, perfect. Reaching for her discarded robe, Jordan was about to don it, eager to get to her hairbrush.
“Leave it. Do not hide yourself from me, Melamin.” The Elf commanded.
Sprawled in the middle of her bed was her Elven lover in all his naked glory. Jordan, however, was still adjusting to walking around nude in front of another person. But she would do it for Legolas. Brushing her hair in front of the fire, Jordan closed her eyes and smiled. Legolas was back, and she felt at peace. For once, the Game, the Rules, and work . . . nothing seemed to matter anymore. Except for one thing. The Immortal’s happiness dimmed, for the only thing that would make the whole situation perfect would be for Duncan and Joe to meet Legolas. Jordan was certain the Highlander would like the Elf, for they certainly had many noble traits in common, and she was certain Gimli and Joe would get along famously. Not to mention Gimli and Duncan, for the Dwarf’s accent alone was what the Immortal initially latched on to, its brogue so close to that of the Highlander’s, that Jordan immediately felt comforted in this strange and wondrous land of make-believe come to life.
                  “Lembas for your thoughts, Melamin,” Legolas’ smooth voice came directly behind her.
Taking the brush from her hands, the Elf pulled it thru the Immortal’s onyx hair once more before wrapping his strong arms around her; Jordan leaned back against the Elf’s warm, hard body and smiled. Somehow, in that short amount of time, the Elf had swiftly and silently dressed. It was almost spooky. Staring into the dancing flames, Jordan thought about her reply.
                  “I was just thinking that I am happy.” She finally said. Legolas turned the woman around to face him. Looking into her eyes, a half smile graced his lips.
                  “Oh? Do I make you happy?” the Elf asked, catching Jordan’s chin in his elegant fingers when she looked away.
                  Why is it so hard to be honest with my feelings? Jordan wondered.
                  Because you won’t be here forever. She answered.
                  You’re here now. Isn’t that what counts? The Immortal thought.
                  “Maybe,” She cautiously allowed.
The Elf searched her eyes with his probing gaze, wondering why his lover did not speak the truth he saw within their green depths. In Mirkwood, surrounded by his beloved forest and his timeless kin, Legolas often thought about Jordan, his mortal woman. Tonight. Tonight they would see where her heart lay. Releasing her chin, he stepped back.
                  “I would show you something. Aphado nin (follow me). ” Legolas said, holding his hand out to her.
                  “Where?” Jordan asked as the Elf folded her hand in his and pulled her close for a quick kiss.
                  “Lle nauva ere (you will see).” He said mysteriously; Legolas refused to say more as he handed Jordan her night shift and a cloak.
He watched, momentarily envious of the garment as the gossamer gown slid over her dark head and skimmed her body; watching her dress in profile, Jordan’s shapely backside nicely balanced the swell of her bosom. The Elf’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully when Jordan reached under her pillow for her sword. The expression was gone by the time the woman turned to face the Prince.
                  “I’m ready.” She announced.
                  “You do not need that, Melamin.” Legolas said, eyeing her Katana with mild amusement. Donning his own cloak, the Wood Elf shouldered a lumpy rucksack just outside the balcony doors. Often, Jordan’s actions left the Elf genuinely puzzled. And intrigued.
                  “It’s dark out there, Legolas. Besides . . . it’s habit.” Jordan replied. The Mirkwood Prince sighed. It was on the tip of the Elf’s tongue to insist she leave her weapon behind, but Legolas did not wish to argue with her and ruin the mood.
Rivendell’s beauty could not be hidden by the night; instead, the moon gave the Elven realm a mysterious allurement all its own, its silver light more than sufficient for the Elf to see his way.   Jordan had not traveled this path before, and wondered where Legolas was taking her. She did know he was leading her opposite where her favorite glade lay. With her hand in his, over quaint footbridges, past natural fountains, sheltered arbors and thru shadowed paths, the Wood Elf silently tread with his lover in tow; his steps gliding over the darkened ground, leaving no trace of his passing; however, the Immortal’s steps bruised the emerald grass, her slippers leaving tracks in the rich soil. The Elf led Jordan onward, occasionally looking to see how she fared, especially when failing to heed his words resulted in her stumbling over hidden tree roots and rocks.
There’d better be a good reason for this. The Immortal grumbled to herself when she stubbed her toe.
Jordan was fast becoming perturbed; this outing bore an uncanny resemblance to another moonlit stroll so long ago with another Immortal. She did not enjoy the stroll then, and she was not enjoying this particular stroll, either. Now, like then, Jordan was not exactly dressed for the occasion – at least to her liking, especially when the path led upwards. It was a while before their path leveled off again. The woman was ready to head back; she was about to insist upon it, lest they begin another upward ascent, when Legolas stopped and held aside some branches for her to see. He smiled at her suspicious glare, knowing it would not last long. He was right. The Immortal blinked and stared in wonder at the scene before her. Legolas watched Jordan’s reaction; he much preferred the quiet deep of his forest home. However, there were hidden areas in Imladris, far from the beaten paths that took even his breath away. As for Jordan, the Immortal thought they were in her favorite glade. Except -- nestled within the protective ring of trees, was a large, natural pool graced with cascading waterfalls, the clearing was filled with abundant, fragrant night blooms. Looking around, the Immortal did not protest when Legolas removed the cloak from her shoulders. The woman was surprised to discover despite wearing practically next to nothing, and their high elevation, it was not cold.
The Mirkwood Prince led Jordan to a grassy patch clear of night blooms. Legolas shrugged off his pack and chuckled when Jordan handed him her katana, shed her footwear and fairly ran towards the pool. The Elf laid his lover’s sword behind the rucksack and spread a blanket and their cloaks on the ground before unpacking the contents from the pack. Removing his boots, Legolas placed them beside Jordan’s slippers. He sat upon the blanket, reveling in the scent of the long, pristine grass. The Elf rested his elbows on his knees, his long, elegant fingers loosely clasped together as he watched his lover.
With a quick glance at the inky sky, Legolas briefly wondered again what muted warnings the celestial bodies were trying to convey; though the stars shone brightly overhead, their heavenly song faltered, rife with confusion and . . . pernicious forewarnings? Now, as he attempted in Mirkwood, the Prince searched for answers, but was unable to decipher the gibbered meaning when he to probed the stars further. Troubled, Legolas held his misgivings at bay and turned his attention back to Jordan. Standing at the water’s edge, Jordan watched the moonlight reflect off the rippling surface, making the water shimmer like diamonds. Tentatively, the Immortal dipped a toe in. To her delight, the water was tepid.
“Impossible.” Jordan murmured to herself.
Somehow, she was not surprised when Legolas spoke, and mentally reminded herself to watch what she said around him. No telling what his sharp hearing would pick up.
“What is, Melamin?” Legolas asked. His words carried far in the still night air. In fact, despite the sound of the waterfall, Jordan believed they could speak in whispers and still be able to hear each other perfectly fine. She decided to test her theory.
“The water – it’s almost warm! How can it be?” she whispered, looking at her lover.
“Thru the power of the Elves,” The Mirkwood Prince whispered back with a smile and a slight shrug of his shoulders.
Legolas knew the Ring of Power surrounding Elrond’s realm, though always in harmony with nature, served other purposes. . . one of which both he and Jordan were now benefiting. Feeling she can catch the moon in her hands, the Immortal raised her arms high overhead. Jordan laughed at the fanciful thought as she stretched sensuously and turned in a slow pirouette. Bathed in starlight, the full moon’s silver beam outlined Jordan’s body beneath her nightshift. The Elf enjoyed the sight before him; he could see the lines of her lush, compact body, her peaked nipples, and the curve of her buttocks – an enticing aphrodisiac in itself.
Slowly walking towards the Elf, Jordan gathered the hem of her gown and raised it to mid thigh, inviting her lover’s touch. Looking down at the Elf, the Immortal released the material as Legolas reached up and touched her thighs. The sheer material fell over his forearms as he slid his hands upwards to grasp her waist as Jordan knelt. Resting her hands lightly on his knees, the woman kissed Legolas’ lips before raising her arms, allowing the Elf to remove her shift. Ever careful, Legolas placed the delicate gown inside the rucksack. When he turned back toward the Immortal, Jordan’s eyes rested on her lover’s lips as she undid the clasps of his tunic. Placing her hands on his shoulders, she gently pushed him back until he was lying down. Kneeling on all fours between his legs, Jordan hovered above Legolas, naked, their bodies not quite touching. She studied the Elf beneath her. How beautiful he was in the moonlight, with his pale hair gleaming silver. And those eyes . . . ! He seemed to reflect the stars and moon, for his naked torso glowed softly – or was it the other way around, she wondered?
“Your wounds are healed. Completely.” Legolas said.
Though he meant to wait till the morrow, the Elf changed his mind. Jordan sighed inwardly. Shifting to a kneeling position, Jordan regarded her Elf as he sat up. Legolas expected his lover to evade the question as she did before, but was surprised when Jordan answered.
“Yes,” she calmly acknowledged.
“How is it possible?” the Elf asked.
“Like I told you in the forest – I heal quickly.” Jordan answered. Legolas cocked his head and regarded the Immortal.
“Your wounds should take days – even weeks to heal, yet you are whole. It is beyond the ability of a mortal.” Jordan neither confirmed nor denied his statement.
It was a golden opportunity, the chance to tell Legolas the truth. Instead, she studied the Elf with a thoughtful expression on her face. The Immortal chose her words carefully.
                  “I don’t know how it works, but I heal quickly. Ever since I was hit by a jeepeny, my . . . wounds heal quickly. I bleed and hurt like anyone else, but . . . I heal a little quicker than normal,” she answered slowly. It was, after all -- the truth.
                  Legolas did not know what manner of creature a ‘jeepeny’ was, but it did not sound pleasant. Ever since her arrival, Jordan did not speak in detail of her personal life, other than she helped heal at a place called “The Hospital”, which explained her affinity for the House of Healing, the Healers and Apprentices.
                  “How did you disappear underwater? I couldn’t see you.” Jordan asked.
She wondered about a few things herself. Elves themselves were magic. It was simply a part of their being. Legolas was unsure how to explain it in terms his mortal beloved was able to understand.
                  “’Twas . . . ‘magic’,” Legolas said, smiling at Jordan’s skeptical expression.
                  “I merely invoked an invisibility spell.” He explained.
                  “Are all Elves magic users?” Jordan asked.
                  “To varying degrees,” Legolas answered.
Since Jordan was sharing information, the Elf wished to know more. Legolas thought back to the night in Trollshaw Forest when he thought her asleep, and from a distance away, believed her to be. Instead, before he reached their campsite, Legolas watched Jordan startle awake. In fact, she peered into the night and searched the shadows until he revealed himself. And in the glade, Jordan looked in his direction, though he remained hidden, high in the tree limbs above.
                  “How is it you know when I approach? No Mortal is able to.” Jordan almost laughed aloud, but remained silent though a smile escaped her.
                  Because I’m not mortal. the woman thought.
                  “It’s a feeling I get about you deep inside -- whenever you’re near.” Jordan answered honestly with a teasing smile.
What Jordan did not tell the Elf was that she got the same feeling about all other Immortals. It was the Elf’s turn to look skeptical. The Immortal decided her lover was asking way too many questions. What Jordan disliked even more was the fact that she was answering them. Jordan suspected that, without much effort, the Wood Elf could pull the deepest secrets from her heart. Jordan decided a distraction was in order; an idea came to her, when her eyes fell on the fruit the Elf spread on the blanket. Perhaps there was a way to compromise . . .
“There are five senses most living creatures have. ” Jordan said as she straddled the Elf’s thighs; Legolas wondered what his lover was up to.
“Sight,” Jordan kissed his eyes closed as she looped her arms loosely around the Elf’s neck.
“Aye.” He answered softly.
With the woman naked in his lap, conversation was definitely not what he had in mind. Legolas grasped Jordan’s waist and settled her in his lap so that she could feel his growing erection. The Wood Elf hoped Jordan would take the not-so-subtle hint. Perhaps it was fortunate Legolas still wore his breeches, for Jordan was not done. The Immortal took an orange from the pile of fruit and scratched the peel, releasing the fragrant oil in the zest before she held it under Legolas’ nose.
“Smell.” Jordan murmured.
The Elf’s wandering hands threatened to distract the Immortal from her purpose; already, she was aching for him. Jordan rubbed the Elf’s nose with her own then she kissed the tip as she tore the orange in half and separated a section, peeling off the stringy white pith. Enjoying their little game, Legolas kept his eyes closed, preferring to use his other senses. He was just a little harder; Jordan could definitely feel the difference. Though he had loved her in the bathing room, and many times since in the privacy of her quarters, Legolas wondered at the woman straddling him; every time they joined felt like the first time. As if that was not bad enough, Jordan effortlessly had him in a constant state of arousal. Legolas could not recall ever wanting a maiden so badly, or so often.
“Taste.”
The Immortal placed section of the orange in Legolas’ mouth; watching his lips, Jordan fought the urge to kiss him. It did not last long; licking the Elf’s lips, Jordan savored the citrusy taste on her lover’s tongue.
                  “Sound.”
The Immortal whispered in his ear then traced the pointed tip with her lips, smiling as Legolas shifted restlessly beneath her.
                  “Touch.”
Reaching down, Jordan ever so gently stroked his bulge, then raked her nails lightly over the soft leather, before she squeezed Legolas between his legs. The Elf’s eyes flew open, hot with desire. Legolas’ blue gaze rested on the Lórien leaf suspended at his eye level between them. Hooking a finger in the delicate chain, the Mirkwood Elf gently pulled Jordan to him for a searing kiss. Dropping the orange onto the blanket, Jordan used one hand to slowly undo the ties of his leggings, the other to stroke and gently squeeze his engorged elfhood thru his breeches. With a growl, Legolas rolled Jordan over, settled himself between her legs, and rubbed against her suggestively. Lowering his golden head to the woman’s luscious breasts, the Elf kissed them softly, avoiding the tempting areoles to stir her desire further. When he did finally put his lips to her pointed nipple, Jordan moaned. Her nipples hardened as Legolas flicked his warm tongue over them. When they seemed to be as plump as he could make them, the Elf suckled one. Jordan’s moans increased and she stroked his head encouragingly.
Her lover held one breast in each palm and alternated between them, licking the nipples until Jordan nearly swooned and then the Elf switched to the other. Legolas looked up at her face because he loved to watch her reaction; the woman’s eyes were closed and her head was tilted back — Jordan looked lost in a wonderful dream with her pretty face in a kind of trance; she would never ask her Mirkwood lover for what she wanted — her modesty prevented it — instead, she sent subtle signals to the Elf. Swift to read and learn them, Legolas was happy to oblige. Now Jordan rocked her hips forward and back in a slightly suggestive rhythm, unconsciously asking to be filled by him. Legolas kissed his way down Jordan’s body, from breastbone to navel, and then slowed his pace as he approached her mound. Hovering over her, the Elf inhaled deeply; Jordan filled up his senses; her clean, uniquely feminine scent mingled with that of the surrounding flowers; it was a marvelously heady combination that hardened Legolas more and made him slightly dizzy as the blood rushed to his elfhood. Jordan’s hands went to his head. She tensed and attempted to draw her thighs together.
                                    “Legolas . . .” Jordan said, uncertainly.
The Immortal raised herself on her elbows and began to sit up. She had a strong indication where this was leading, and Jordan was not sure if she was ready for . . . that. The Elf looked up at her, a smile threatening to surface.
“Estelio enni, meleth nín (Trust in me, my love).” Legolas murmured against her lips before kissing her deeply.
With his excellent night vision, Legolas could see his lover’s face was an endearingly bright shade of red. He was going to enjoy this, and was confident that Jordan would, too -- if she would only relax.   Kissing her eyes closed, Legolas silently encouraged her to let her senses guide her; his mouth tenderly worshipped Jordan’s mouth. The Elf’s hands were busy stroking his lover’s hips before he inserted his long fingers and caressed her intimately. Nibbling at her neck, the Mirkwood Prince could feel Jordan’s pulse race beneath his lips. Working his way downward, his mouth left a hot trail as he moved from her breasts to her belly. Slowly relaxing under Legolas’ skillful touch, Jordan moaned and spread her legs a bit wider as his fingers massaged her wetness. Smiling inwardly, Legolas glanced at his lover’s face. She had opened her eyes, her gaze enveloping him in a mute message of loving trust and heated desire. Legolas gently parted his lover’s knees and placed warm, moist kisses upon her inner thighs and all along the contours of her labia. However, it was just the beginning. With his hands, Legolas gently parted her swollen nether lips to expose every glistening part of her. Her hidden pearl was enticingly revealed to him -- his for the taking; the Elf decided he would save that for last. The Mirkwood Prince paused. Beneath him, his lover quivered with a mixture of apprehension and anticipation. Legolas’ own arousal was magnified tenfold, but he restrained himself, his only thought now was to please his lover.
Lowering his golden head, Legolas dipped his tongue into her womanly nectar. Jordan tasted of salt air and fresh breezes but also of rich, spicy femininity. The Immortal gasped and almost fainted when she felt his intimate kiss.   As his tongue played at and licked her engorged nub, the Immortal spread herself wide for him, lost in the myriad of new, intensely erotic sensations. Legolas swirled his tongue around the raised nub very slowly, altering the rhythm and direction of his tongue in order to prolong the sensual agony of his lover’s pleasure. Her entire body stiffened and arched as she buried her hands in the Elf’s silky hair. With one hand on her belly, Legolas gently held his lover down; her legs were splayed open for him now in wanton abandon as he relentlessly continued to explore her intimate regions. The Wood Elf reveled in the sound of his name on Jordan’s lips as his lover called his name over and over again; it drove him on as he rhythmically plunged his tongue deep within her, lapping up her wetness. Legolas left no part of her velvety folds untouched . . . untasted . . . unlicked . . . unloved.
When Jordan came, her cries of pleasure rent the air, but the Elf was not finished with her. Panting, Jordan had not yet caught her breath; she raised her head to see Legolas’ golden head still buried between her legs. Not bothering to stifle her throaty moans, Jordan’s hands knotted the blanket as she groaned; the Immortal’s body undulated and bucked as Legolas continued to greedily lick her, before he gently and steadily suckled the little bundle of nerves, using the rough top of his tongue to deliver a new sensation, pushing his lover once again over the edge of whatever precipice she called pleasure. Her loud cries only served to inflame the Elf’s desire; his elfhood was now so hard he could barely even think.
"Legolas . . . !" Jordan pleaded.
Flipping Jordan over, the Elf stroked her smooth backside and roughly pulled her hips toward him. With his elfhood past the point of containment, the Immortal barely had time to brace herself on her forearms when Legolas mounted her from behind. The Wood Elf gritted his teeth, the mushroom shaped tip of his elfhood parted his lover’s intimate folds, seeking entrance. The Mirkwood Elf plunged his member’s full length inside the woman; not giving her a chance to adjust to his girth -- his strokes so hard, it was almost brutal. Legolas’ breath came in ragged gasps, feeling the sweet heat of Jordan’s nether walls envelope his turgid member, rhythmically squeezing his girth in perfect time with his hard thrusts. If Jordan was any hotter, Legolas swore he might have felt pain. Thru the hazes of pleasure, the Immortal heard Legolas speak in Elvish, some sounded familiar, but most she did not understand, and the Immortal didn’t bother trying.
“Melithon le anuir (I will love you forever), Jordan!” the Elf hoarsely proclaimed his love for the Immortal to the heavens above.
Unfortunately, Jordan was unaware of the magnitude of her lover’s words, for she was being intensely pleasured, fast approaching the bliss that she had just reached moments before – and now she was reaching for the stars yet again. Jordan, however, did hear when Legolas called her name out as he thrust in and out of her warm, tight walls; his ragged groans mingled with hers as he felt her intimate vise continue to squeeze his elfhood. The Immortal rocked back to meet each possessive thrust as her lover delved deeper into her with each powerful, rhythmic push. Legolas forced himself to contain his release until Jordan reached her climax.
The Mirkwood Elf gave in to his need and surrendered to her. His own orgasm surged forth, the heat racing from his belly, thru his elfhood to explode deep within his lover’s womb, pouring his seed into her, filling her with his essence. Legolas’ shout of pleasure echoed across the water. Still joined, the spent lovers laid together in a tangle of limbs, surrounded by nature's wonders as they caught their breaths. Legolas pulled Jordan close and spooned her to him; they lay that way in silent contentment until she spoke
“Do all Elves have such stamina in bed?” Jordan murmured, happily exhausted.
Had Jordan been able to see, Legolas’ smile was unabashedly arrogant.
                  “We do not tire easily like humans.” He answered.
The woman rolled her eyes at his smug tone of voice.
                  “I believe it,” the Immortal said wearily.
Jordan ached pleasantly and tingled all over . . . especially there, where the Elf paid special attention to her. Legolas had not left an inch of her body untouched. Jordan wondered if it was realistically possible to become addicted to someone (actually, one Elf in particular), for even after being repeatedly, most thoroughly and expertly loved for almost the entire day, the Immortal still burned for Legolas’ touch . . . and his maddeningly skillful tongue.
Oh, Coll – you were right! With the right One, you can’t get enough . . . no wonder people talk about it, sing about it and pay ode to it obsessively. Jordan thought privately.
                  “At this rate, you’ll be the death of me.” Jordan murmured tiredly, as she snuggled closer to the Elf. Legolas’ arms tightened around her painfully.
                  “Legolas . . .?” the Immortal asked, bewildered. Jordan was unsure of what she said to ruin their previously blissful mood.
                  “Do not speak of death, Melamin.” The Elf said sharply.
“Everything dies, Legolas.” Jordan tried to shrug, but the Elf’s grip on her shoulders prevented the movement. “Even Elves can die, Legolas.”
                  “I do not want you to die, Melamin.” Legolas replied.
Jordan wriggled in her lover’s arms until he released her. She sat up and faced the Elf; her expression was both amused and thoughtful. Dying was unpleasant business. And it hurt. Jordan had already expired twice in her lifetime, and she had no desire to go for a ‘three-peat’. Especially in Middle-Earth – for it would require some major explaining.
                  “Neither do I, Legolas. In fact, I plan on doing my best to stay alive for a very long time.” Jordan answered softly.
Although the subject of death and dying didn’t bother her (she’d been there and done that), Jordan could see it troubled the Elf. Part of her wanted to reassure him that she didn’t die easy; ultimately, she decided it best to leave it unsaid, for the knowledge once given, could not be taken back. For now, Jordan decided, she must continue to be careful. Not wanting to lose their blissful mood completely, the Immortal searched the blanket for the previously discarded orange. Perhaps she’d be able to distract her lover’s attention from the morbid topic. Her gaze fell on a flat, slender wooden box. The lid was decorated with oak leaves etched in silver that glowed in the moonlight.
                  “What’s this?” she asked, curious.
                  “Open it, Melamin.” Legolas said.
                  Jordan opened the wooden box. Resting on a bed of green velvet was a choker; had it been daylight, the Immortal would better appreciate the delicate, vine-like strands of the precious metal gracefully woven together in the Elven fashion; in the middle was a loop designed to suspend a charm or other such jewel. On either side of the loop were the richest, clearest grass green emeralds that held just a touch of blue, cut and arranged to resemble tiny oak leaves.
                  “It’s beautiful, Legolas.” Jordan breathed. At least she was sure it was. The Immortal couldn’t tell what color the gemstones were, but if they came from the Elf, they would be pretty.
                  “It is yours.” The Elf said. Transfixed by the exquisite collar, her lover’s words did not immediately sink in.
                  “Really – it’s for me?” she asked, her eyes wide with surprise.
                  “Gimli did not want it, so I thought mayhaps you would.” Legolas said, with a teasing smile on his face.
                  “You --!” Jordan smacked the Elf on the shoulder.
Legolas caught her hand and held it over his heart. The Immortal looked at him. For a brief moment, the Immortal had an uneasy feeling of déjà vu, for the last time someone gave her a piece of jewelry, her life had taken an unexpected and dramatic turn. The pleasure he felt at her delight faded when his lover closed the lid and pushed it across the blanket towards him.
                  “I can’t take this, Legolas.” Jordan said regretfully.
“Amman (why)?”
“Well, it’s expensive, and . . . I have nothing to give you in return.” She answered mournfully.
“Tisn’t ‘expensive’; ‘tis a necklace.” The Elf provided helpfully.
“Silly! I know what it is – I meant that it must have been costly . . .” Jordan answered, laughing. She sobered again and gazed longingly at the jeweled collar.
“Then mayhaps you would consider a trade . . . ?” Legolas countered slowly.
“Fair enough,” Jordan eagerly conceded.
“What did you have in mind?” Jordan asked as she reopened the box and removed the choker.
Despite her earlier misgivings, Jordan did want the necklace. The woman decided now, unlike when she accepted the Leaf, a fair trade was in order. Legolas did not fear Jordan’s over-eager fingers would bend or destroy the delicate workmanship, for despite its beauty, the true silver was harder than steel. The hinges so cleverly integrated into the design, it appeared to be one continuous band. With an indulgent smile, the Elf took the jeweled necklace from the Immortal as Jordan held her hair away. As Legolas fastened it around her neck, Jordan couldn’t help but feel slightly unsettled; there seemed to be a sense of finality when the Immortal heard the tiny ‘snikt’ of the clasp. Jordan didn’t get the chance to ponder it further as her lover spoke, unaware of the woman’s thoughts.
“Hmmm . . . this is a beautiful weapon, Melamin. What is its value?” Legolas asked as he drew her Katana from behind the rucksack and examined the carven ivory hilt.
More than you could possibly know, thought the Immortal to herself. Her sword is an inseparable, integral part of her.
A strange choice of adornment. Legolas thought privately as he studied it. The arched neck of a crested game fowl adorned the ivory pommel.
“Do you have a particular love of pheasants?” The Elf inquired.
“That’s not a pheasant – it’s a Phoenix!” Jordan exclaimed indignantly as she gently pried his fingers loose.
“Sorry, anything but that. Choose something else.” She replied.
“Your throwing shards.” Legolas bid.
“Shuriken.” Jordan corrected her lover.
“Shuriken. Hmmm . . . on second thought, they are damaged -- ” the Elf mused.
“I’ve got four in good condition! And I guarantee you won’t find anything like it in Rivendell!” Jordan protested.
Her mind was working overtime, wondering what she could barter in return, for Jordan knew her Leaf would look fabulous surrounded by the gemstones and silver vines on either side of the loop. If she managed to successfully haggle with the Elf, her limited jewelry collection could very well begin to grow quite nicely.
“This trinket is of great worth. No . . . I must have something to match its value, for it is very precious to me.” Legolas said. Jordan tried to hide her disappointment as she reluctantly reached up to unclasp the choker, but then she hesitated.
“I could cook for you.” What she would cook, Jordan had no idea. But, she had to try.
“That is what the kitchens are for.”
“I’ll clean your quarters . . . I’ll do your laundry.” It was a major concession on her part, for Jordan hated doing domestic duties, and she sent most of her clothes to the dry cleaners.
“I will not have you labor like a common servant. That is what servants are for.” Legolas said stiffly.
Jordan gave him a strange look. Ever since she’d arrived in Rivendell, she’d worked either at the House with the Healers, and most recently, the kitchens. Legolas hadn’t protested once.
“Then you’ll have to take it back. I have nothing to give in return.” The woman said reluctantly.
Though she wanted the necklace, Jordan knew when to cut her losses. Perhaps Gimli and his Cave wouldn’t mind parting with a few large diamonds and a ruby or two to make up for the loss of the necklace. After all, the Dwarf did say that the precious stones were considered mere playthings to the hardy race, for they considered something called ‘mithril’ to be their true measure of wealth.
“I beg to differ, Melamin.” Legolas grasped Jordan’s wrists and pulled her atop him. The intensity of his gaze made the Immortal shiver.
“What do I have that you’d want?” she whispered.
“Have you not guessed, Melamin?” Legolas inquired softly.
“You’ll have to spell it out for me, Legolas.”
“Everything. I want everything.” He murmured before roughly kissing her.
Legolas rolled the Immortal over onto her back, his elegant hands still encircling her wrists. They were only slightly more giving than steel.
“Your body you give to me.” Legolas said looking down at her.
The Elf moved Jordan’s hands so they were above her head. Holding her wrists loosely in one hand, Legolas stroked his free hand down her cheek and neck, and then placed a kiss between her breasts. Jordan’s breathing quickened, wondering what he was up to. Legolas continued to look into her eyes thoughtfully as his hand kneaded her left breast.
“Your heart I want.”
“You have it,” the Immortal confessed. The words were out of her mouth before she could stop herself.
“Do I?” the Elf inquired.
“Yes.” Jordan answered.
Legolas knew sure as the stars shone overhead, that he loved this woman. Would she love him as he did her? Was it enough -- would it last for the length of her natural life? The Elf would love Jordan, until the bloom of her youth withered away; he would watch her beauty and life fade as the flowers and the grass of the earth, until the day he’d hold her in his arms for the last time. When her eyes closed in death and it is time to lay her beloved body to rest in the ground, in silent, eternal repose, Legolas would endure the pain -- the unspeakable agony her death would bring. . . was he willing to endure that as well? Would he fade with grief? Perhaps not; Legolas knew he loved Jordan enough to fight the overwhelming grief, to immortalize her memory in his heart, so she would live as long as he did . . . without end.
“Then Bind yourself to me, Jordan.” Legolas said quietly. Jordan looked at him, not understanding the significance of the Elf’s request.
“Marry me, Jordan.” He urged again, in words he was sure his lover could understand.
“You’re joking, right?” the Immortal asked. Legolas’ look darkened.
“You make light of my heart.”
“No! It’s just – it’s not every day I get a proposal of marriage.”
“Good, for if you did, you could not Bind yourself to me.”
“Legolas . . . Are you sure about this?” the Elf sighed before answering her.
“Melamin, unlike mortals who wrestle with themselves, Elfkind do not. Once we search our hearts and know it is true, it is steadfast and sure.”
“But . . .”
“You do not wish to bind yourself to me.” The Elf concluded stiffly. This was not how Legolas envisioned the scene to play out.
Why must this be so difficult? Legolas wondered, truly perplexed.
“I didn’t say that --” Jordan protested
“Then what is stopping you?” Legolas asked.
“There are things you don’t know about me, Legolas.” Jordan replied slowly.
“Then tell me, Melamin.” He urged.
Legolas awaited her answer with a unique sense of anticipation. His heart was pounding in his chest as he waited in suspense. Instead, Jordan closed her eyes and turned her face away. This was definitely not what the Elf had in mind.
When in doubt . . . don’t. It was a delicate situation requiring carefully chosen words.
“You asked if I trusted you.” She cast a sidelong glance at Legolas.
“Why do you evade the question? What needs be all this secrecy?”
“Please trust me when I say I have my reasons.” Jordan gave the Elf a hard look. He could see the internal struggle before her features settled into a cold expression. It was a side of his lover Legolas had never seen before.
“When we go to see this Mithrandir . . . if I’m still here, I’ll tell you everything you need to know. I can’t answer you until then.”
“What are you hiding, Jordan -- Why will you not tell me?” Legolas asked, close to losing his patience. By the Valar, this woman was unlike any maiden he’d come across.
“Please, Legolas. Trust me.” She asked quietly.
Though unhappy with the turn of events, Legolas decided to not push the issue. It was enough for the Elf that his lover wore his gift around her neck. He had no choice but to wait for her answer. More and more, the Elf felt his destiny intertwine with his lover’s in Gondor. In the meantime, beneath the bright hunter’s moon, Legolas kissed Jordan until the cold expression melted and the woman smiled once more. In spite of their private thoughts, when Jordan reached for her lover once again, the Immortal and her Prince continued their loving reunion, well into the night, until the stars faded away.
#
                  Listening to the sleepy birds welcome the dawn, Legolas quickened his pace. He was already late for his meeting with the Dwarf. Cradling the sleeping woman in his arms, Jordan did not wake once. The Wood Elf moved swiftly along the quiet paths; the dead weight of his precious burden, and the bulky rucksack had no effect on his long strides as they ate up the ground. Swiftly, Legolas covered the distance in an astonishingly short amount of time. As he made his way towards Jordan’s quarters, the Elf gazed down at the token of his affection. The gem encrusted mithril collar looked right around her neck, the Elf decided, and so did the Leaf that was suspended in the middle. Up the stairs and across the room he went; depositing the woman in her bed, Legolas removed Jordan’s katana from the rucksack and slid it beneath her pillow before kissing her lips, not feeling an ounce of guilt for having worn out his lover in the most pleasant of ways. As an afterthought, Legolas laid a hand gently on Jordan’s flat belly, imagining it swollen with his child. An Elfling.
Reluctantly, the Elf left his lover’s side. Taking the fastest route to the common eating halls, Legolas contemplated raising a family with his lover. If Jordan chose not to Bind herself to him, perhaps a child would persuade her to remain with him. A little Princess with her mother’s black hair and his blue eyes, or a Prince with his fair hair and his mother’s green eyes. No, the Elf decided – twins.   Twins would be most delightful. King Thranduil, after getting over the initial shock of having a Mortal for a daughter-in-law, would surely love their children dearly. At every given opportunity, was the Elf’s intent to keep Jordan’s womb filled with his seed, with the fondest hopes the Valar would bless them with children. With the fate of Middle-Earth in peril, there was no time to indulge in personal gratification. Jordan Waters had changed that in mere moments for him. For centuries, he had not felt the yearning to take a wife. Legolas not only took Jordan as his first mortal lover, he desired her to Bind herself to him, and now he was planning their future children! It was his heart’s fondest desire for their future children to play and grow up with Prince Eldarion and his sisters.
                  “Alas, so much rests on our journey to Gondor.” Legolas muttered as he entered the Common hall. Legolas spied the Dwarf at a table and went to join him. Looking up briefly, Gimli grunted and continued to roll up the parchment before affixing his seal onto the melted wax.
“So, how are you, Laddie?” Gimli asked. He need not bother, for the smile on the Elf’s face said it all.
Gimli chuckled to himself, glad for his pointy-eared friend. Legolas thanked the servant who set upon the table meat, bread and cheeses. As they ate, the Dwarf and the Elf’s conversation turned to their pending journey. Apparently, the Dwarf was busy recruiting more Dwarven help to assist in the rebuilding of the White City; it was a daunting task, amassing the materials and skilled artisans. Legolas knew there was no better Dwarf suited for the task than the stout fellow seated across from him. Gimli was busy rattling off more details to his friend when he noticed Legolas was not listening. It was nothing discernible, yet Gimli knew his friend well enough as a Dwarf could ever hope to know an Elf, and the Mirkwood Prince was preoccupied.
“What troubles ye, Laddie?” Gimli asked.
The Dwarf was surprised when his pointy-eared friend answered right away. Legolas did not like having his fate decided by circumstances beyond his control; perhaps they should prepare to leave for the White City sooner than planned. The dread Legolas felt before he left for Mirkwood returned with a vengeance. Something was going to happen -- and soon. He was certain of it. Legolas wished Mithrandir were in Imladris, for the Elf knew the wizard would know what to do. In the meantime, the Prince decided to seek his friend’s opinion on a small matter that continued to puzzle him.
“I do not understand why she sleeps with her sword beneath her pillow. It is always within reach.” Legolas said.
Gimli studied his friend. It was new, having the Elf confide in him with his . . . relationship woes. Gimli couldn’t remember the Elf ever having problems with the fairer sex, for in Meduseld, the maidens were more than willing to see to the Elf’s . . . ‘needs’, but he always refused. And Gimli didn’t need to ask who ‘She’ was.
“Is that wrong? We keep our weapons close.” Gimli shrugged it off. He belched loudly after taking a long draught of his ale.
                  “We are warriors.” The Elf pointed out.
“Jordan is a Healer by trade. Why is she compelled to keep her weapon close --- what does she fear in Imladris?” Legolas asked. The Elf-friend grunted.
                  “Be as your arrows and aim for the matter that troubles you. Ask her,” Gimli suggested.
“Besides, who understands females? Their hearts are but deep caverns of secrets. No telling what goes on in their heads.” the Dwarf said with a knowing nod of his bushy head.
“Heed my words, Little Princeling. . . ” Legolas shot the Dwarf a look.
“Enjoy her charms while you can. The leaves are turning and we will soon be on our way. Who knows what awaits us in Gondor.”
The Mirkwood Prince was about to tell the Elf-friend he asked Jordan to Bind herself to him when a servant appeared, stilling the words upon the Elf’s lips.
“Prince Legolas, Lord Elrond requests your and Master Gimli’s presence.” The Dwarf and the Prince exchanged glances, wondering what the summons entailed.
“Thank you; we will be there shortly.” Legolas replied.
#
                  The sound came again, disturbing her rest. Pulling the pillow over her head, Jordan willed herself to go back to sleep. The sheets were soft, and smelled like Legolas. Sighing with pleasure, Jordan was about to drift off when the sound came again, this time more obnoxiously insistent. With a start, Jordan realized she was in her bed. Flipping over in bed, the Immortal looked around the room. Was it a dream? Her hand flew to her neck, where her fingers touched the cool metal of the jeweled collar around her neck.
                  “No . . .” it was real.
                  “I’m coming . . .!” the Immortal mumbled, touching a hand to her head.
She was so tired. The intimate aches Jordan was feeling provided a sensual reminder of the Elf’s thorough and enthusiastic loving. Unfortunately, the Miruvor did not last as long as the Elf; Legolas had made love to her all day yesterday, and Jordan honestly believed the Elf would have made love to her all night until, much as it pained her, she refused to allow him to touch her beyond a cuddle. Jordan desperately needed to sleep -- not that she was complaining. She just needed a little break; slowly getting out of bed, Jordan was not certain she could walk normally. Gingerly, the Immortal made her way towards the door and pulled it open to find Ceallach standing in the hallway. The Immortal looked blearily at the she-Elf.
                  “Lady Jordan, Lord Elrond requests your presence in his study.” She Elven maiden said. Jordan nodded, stifling a yawn behind her hand.
                  “I’ll be there.” She said wearily. The maiden hesitated.
                  “I believe it is urgent, Lady Jordan.” She said.
                  Fine. I guess that means ‘now’. The Immortal thought. Jordan wasn’t in the mood to argue. She would go and see what this was all about, for then she could hopefully rest for a few hours.
                  “I was just on my way to take a quick bath.” The Immortal assured her.
#
Lord Elrond stood with his hands clasped behind his back, gazing out his westward facing window.   He had seen the heights of glory during the time of the Elves, dark days and strange times; it appeared the strange times were without end. The Peredhil’s musings were interrupted when a servant announced Jordan’s arrival. Signaling the Elf to show her in, the woman’s steps brought her further into the room.
“Hello . . .” The Immortal said; turning to face her, Elrond studied her with a thoughtful expression.
“Lady Jordan. Please, come with me.” He instructed her.
Gesturing for her to follow, the Ruler led the Immortal to a side door that opened onto a wide, open patio. When Lord Elrond stopped, Jordan’s steps slowed. Legolas and Gimli were present as well. Behind the Dwarf and Jordan’s lover were two more Elves, the twin sons of Lord Elrond; they were speaking with the fair Elf and the Elf-friend. When Jordan appeared, all conversation ceased as they turned towards her. The Immortal looked at each person individually, wondering why he was gazing at her expectantly. After a moment, the Elves and Dwarf stood aside and watched the woman’s reaction. Jordan’s eyes widened in disbelief and joy.
                  “Duncan . . .?” Jordan breathed.   The Highlander was there, too!
                  “Duncan!” With a squeal of joy, the Immortal ran towards her Mentor.
Though his outward expression was impassive, Legolas was taken back as he watched Jordan launch herself at the Stranger. The Dark One caught the Elf’s lover up in his arms; the dusty, travel stained folds of his long, dark coat enveloped the youngest Immortal, almost hiding her from sight as she wrapped her arms tightly around the Clansman’s neck.
                  “Jordie! Thank God we found you!” Duncan murmured softly.
After a long while, the Scot held Jordan away from him. The fair Elf moved so that he could see all interaction between his lover and the new arrivals. Legolas frowned as the Chieftain’s Son held Jordan tightly once more.
“Duncan . . .” Jordan began.
“Hmm?” the Highlander replied. The Scot closed his eyes briefly and sighed with relief. Now that he had her back, Duncan was not going to let her go.
                  “I can’t breathe.” Jordan whispered. The Clansman relaxed his hold a notch as he rested his chin on top of his Student’s head.
                  “How did you find me?” Jordan asked against his chest, content to stay in the big Scot’s arms.
“It’s a long story; maybe you should go see Joe; I’m sure it’ll do him good to see you.” The Clansman suggested.
                  “Joe’s here? Where is he?” Jordan asked, leaning back in Duncan’s arms. She was eager to see Joe’s whiskered face once more.
                  “For eight days we rode; Joe caught a cold; it turned into pneumonia, so we rode harder and faster. If it wasn’t for the Elves, he could have died.”
“Where is he?” Jordan asked again, anxious and apprehensive. Looking into Duncan’s face, she searched his features, trying to gauge the meaning behind his words; she’d feel entirely responsible if their friend worsened to the point of death. Duncan smiled down at her, scarcely believing he held her.
“I’m not sure where they brought him, but I’m assured he’s well cared for. You know, if it wasn’t for Adam, we couldn’t have found you.” Duncan said quietly. Jordan was so concerned for the Watcher that she didn’t pay attention to the rest of the Highlander’s words. What she did catch was the name.
                  “Adam? Adam who?” Jordan asked, quizzically.
                  “Am I that easy to forget?” a quiet voice asked softly.
The question came from behind her Teacher. Suddenly the Immortal felt cold deep inside. She recognized that voice. Even after all this time, she didn’t – couldn’t forget it. Slowly, Jordan released her hold on the Clansman as Duncan stepped aside; her heart beat a little faster. There was no mistake. It was he.
                  “Adam. . . ” Jordan said quietly as the blood drained from her face.
- 24
- 25
- 26
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Only One	By : HollyHobbit13 Category: Lord of the Rings Movies > Crossovers Views: 4468 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: See full disclaimer below.

Only One