Adult-FanFiction.org : Lord of the Rings

Twilight Tales - An Ounce of Kindness	By : MPB Category: -Multi-Age > General Views: 26418 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Lord of the Rings (and associated) book series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 45
- 46
- 47
Chapter XLV

After his talk with Éowyn, Aragorn strode into the booth. It held three low narrow cots such as was used by Men of high rank rather than the more rudimentary pallet. Legolas sat on the bed against the far side of the booth. Aragorn was startled by the Elf's posture - he was hunched over hugging his knees like a distraught child, his face pressed into his folded arms. Gimli knelt before him and was rubbing one of his hands between his palms as if to warm it.

“What has happened?” Aragorn softly exclaimed, dropping to his knees before the pair. He reached out to touch Legolas' other hand and was shocked to find it clammy. “Legolas, what ails you?”

The archer did not answer but Gimli looked at the Ranger severely and said: “He says Elrohir is aware of what passed between you.”

Aragorn stared at the Elf in bafflement. “But how can that be when neither of us has spoken to him about it? You must be mistaken, Legolas.” When Legolas only shook his head in mute helplessness, the Ranger grimaced and rose to his feet. “This is my fault. I will go to him and set things right.”

“Aragorn-” Gimli began to say.

But Aragorn was already turning away. Thus he was taken aback when he nearly collided with Elladan. The older twin quickly took in the scene, his eyes darting from the surprised Ranger to an even more dismayed Legolas who looked quite ready to hide behind his Dwarf-friend.

“You will indeed set things right, Estel,” Elladan coolly informed his abashed foster-brother. “But not before Legolas has had his chance to recount your misadventure first.” He looked at Legolas and saw how pale the Wood-elf had grown. His eyes softened and he spoke to him in a kindly tone. “Go, gwanur. Elrohir awaits you. I will remain and hear what Estel has to say.” This pointed last he addressed to Aragorn who was seen to lose some color much to Gimli's grim satisfaction.

“Aye, go to your Elf-knight,” Gimli urged the archer, pressing his small pack into his hands. “You may not have another chance like this afore our labors are done.”

Legolas shakily stood up and made to leave the booth, pausing only when Elladan clasped his shoulder reassuringly. Stepping outside he realized that only the sentries were still about and that the brunt of their attention was on the upward road to the Hold and the shadowy outskirts of the camp. He hastened to the brethren's tent under cover of the night's darkness.

Peeking in, he saw that it was as Éowyn had said. The limited space was sufficient for a tiny writing table and stool, a narrow bench bearing a washbasin and a low wooden bed with a thin feather mattress barely wide enough for two Men. The tent was warm and comfortable despite its spartan appearance; obviously housing fit for a nobleman of Rohan on a military campaign. Not that Legolas cared for comfort or aught else when confronted with the Elf who turned to welcome him.

Elrohir had doffed his boots and outer garments and was clad in a thin shirt and long breeches. His mail tunic gleamed in the lamplight where it rested on the table while his mantle hung neatly from a makeshift hook in one corner of the tent.

He smiled faintly and said: “Come in, Legolas, unless 'tis your wish to have the whole camp gossiping about us by morning.”

Legolas hastily entered and closed the tent flap behind him. He gazed uncertainly at Elrohir.

“Well?” the younger twin said, an eyebrow rising questioningly. “I did say we would make time for confidences, did I not?”

A smidgen of humor limned his words and Legolas felt knee-weakening relief well up within him. It seemed he was mistaken and Elrohir did not know of his sin. Or if he did, had chosen not to judge him just yet.

Dropping his pack, he hurried into the Elf-knight's embrace, pressing their mouths together in a scorching kiss before another word could be uttered. To say he was ravenous was an egregious understatement. Indeed, he was so aflame with lust and the need to bare his mate soonest that he virtually tore Elrohir's shirt from his back. Though startled by his zeal, the younger twin bit back any comments and went about undressing the archer just as swiftly. All the while, Legolas peppered his face, lips and throat with hungry kisses and covetously smoothed his palms over firmly muscled flesh as it was revealed.

His loosened breeches slid to his ankles and he impatiently kicked them off along with his shoes. Without missing a beat, he slid onto the bed, pulling Elrohir down atop him as he did. This time the Elf-knight hesitated, no doubt troubled by the archer's anxious haste. He drew back slightly and gazed searchingly at the prince, murmuring his name wonderingly.

Alarm jolted the archer. Alarm and renewed guilt. Unwilling to break either the mood or rhythm of their loving by an untimely disclosure, Legolas instinctively resorted to his time-tested manner of diverting his spouse's attention even if just for the time needed to steel himself against the all but inevitable falling-out.

Elrohir gasped when Legolas insistently wrapped his legs around his waist. He forcibly held back though ferocious desire blazed its way through his frame. They had barely begun love play. Neither of them had as yet produced enough seed to ensure the barest minimum of comfort for Legolas to bear penetration. He glanced at his pack where it lay on the floor a hand's span beyond his reach. But when he moved to retrieve it, Legolas refused to release him. Elrohir groaned as his mate's strong legs inexorably drew him down and against him.

“Legolas, wait!” he rasped. “I have oil in my pack. Let me fetch it.”

“Nay!” Legolas countered. “I cannot wait. Take me now!”

“You will hurt! I do not want-”

His entreaty was cut off when Legolas hauled him close and hungrily sealed their lips together. Elrohir managed to break their much too befuddling kiss and forced himself up on his elbows. Trembling with the effort to stay himself just a vital while longer, he lifted a hand and spat into his palm. Legolas' eyes gleamed approvingly as he watched his darkling love coat his shaft with the slick fluid. But Elrohir could not be as confident. It was far from enough to ease his passage though certainly much better than nothing at all.

Elrohir attempted to slow his entry to lessen the chances of causing his prince even more discomfort. But Legolas would not have any of that and he arched up into Elrohir's spearing length. The resulting burn wrenched a strangled cry from him yet he refused to let Elrohir withdraw. Instead, he lay still for a few moments, breathing heavily as he fought to adjust to his sudden scarcely balmed impalement.

“We can stop,” he heard Elrohir murmur soothingly. “Indeed, 'tis best that we do.”

But the archer shook his head almost frantically. Though tears pricked his eyes and dampened his lashes, he lifted his hips with determination, urging the warrior to take him deeply. The pain was not too much to withstand yet the ache was great nonetheless. He would know much discomfort come morning, of that he was certain. But the primal Wood-elf in him accepted the pain, even welcomed it, for he deemed it a penance worth paying particularly if it aided in making his mate more kindly disposed to him after he confessed his offense. He would gladly hobble into battle henceforth if his sacrifice softened Elrohir toward him and earned him his forgiveness and renewed faith in him.

Realizing Legolas would not relent, Elrohir pressed delicately into him, gingerly caressing him within, and waited for a sign that the archer's pain had subsided to a more bearable level. A hiss followed by a soft enraptured moan told him when the moment came. He positioned himself for the long driving thrusts that Legolas especially favored.

Have me, cleave me.

Hearing the ardent cry in his mind, he met Legolas' gaze. It was pleading and shorn of pride and vacillation. He knew then that only a thorough taking of his mate however ungentle would dispel some of if not all of whatever was haunting him. Steeling himself against evidence of Legolas' discomfort, he did as he was bid.

He sank repeatedly into snug flesh, opening Legolas further to his invading length with every lunge of his hips. In the archer's features he saw pleasure chase pain as he was stroked deep within. He reached between them to caress the Wood-elf, alternating between fondling his resurgent shaft and cupping the tender pouches beneath. His gentleness here was sweetly at variance with his nigh feral delving into the archer's core.

With rapture overtaking the ache of his connubial ravaging, Legolas began the swift spiraling ascent to the peaks of completion. Sobbing harshly now, he clutched at Elrohir so tightly that he left slight bruises on the Elf-knight's pale skin. His hips surged upward, meeting Elrohir's piercing strokes, thrust for thrust. He heard Elrohir's hissed groans and saw ecstasy shroud his handsome features. Felt the pooling of exquisite tension in his groin that portended culmination. All too soon, they teetered on the very edge of the precipice of release.

They climaxed one after the other and their spirits embraced in scalding joy and consuming love. Pleasure flowed between them as the binding-rapture burgeoned and took hold. When they finally subsided, they were both breathless and clung to each other for the longest while. Legolas rested his head in the crook of Elrohir's neck, nuzzling the sleek flesh and savoring his scent. In his languor, he did not mark Elrohir's reflective silence until the Elf-knight broke it.

“Let me tend to you,” he quietly said.

Forestalling any protests, Elrohir retrieved a small jar of salve from his pack. Legolas wordlessly parted his legs and permitted him to administer the medicament, groaning with some relief when it swiftly reduced the ache in his backside. When Elrohir lay down once more, he quickly curled up against his side. Feeling the Elf-knight's fingers lightly thread through his hair, Legolas almost purred in his bliss. His felicity was jarred a moment later.

“Will you tell me what troubles you?” Elrohir softly asked.

Legolas tensed. “What do you mean?” he said, stalling.

Elrohir was not fooled. “I have sensed your feelings on occasion since you left Imladris,” he said. “When your fear or anger or sorrow overflowed I knew you to be upset beyond measure. I have matched those moments to the events you spoke of. All save one which seemed the most harrowing of all if the tumult of your emotions were anything to go by. And if I reckoned correctly, it occurred in Lórien.”

He felt Legolas flinch in his arms. “What happened in Lórien?” Elrohir queried after a brief pause. When Legolas still hesitated, he pursed his lips and said, “I confess it puzzled me for what could beset you so in the Golden Wood? I though mayhap I had reckoned the dates wrong. But now I know I did not. For why did you demand so brutal a taking by me if not to mitigate some great unease?” He noted Legolas' blanched countenance when the archer reluctantly raised his head to look at him. “Methinks it is not wholly assuaged. Legolas, you need to speak of it if you hope for peace of mind and heart.”

For the longest while, Legolas stared at him, eyes moist with gathering tears. At last, he whispered, “You are not wrong. Something did happen in Lórien.” Unable to meet Elrohir's gaze, he lowered his head onto the twin's shoulder and wrapped his arm firmly around him as if to keep him from leaving his side. “We were both lonely and afraid, Aragorn and I,” he stammered. In his anxiety he did not notice how Elrohir stiffened at the mention of the Ranger's name. “Aragorn believed he was not fit to lead us and seemed headed for despair. I sought to comfort him but he - he sought more from me than I expected and I am shamed to admit that I succumbed to his overture and-” He broke off when he heard Elrohir catch his breath and felt the shudder that wracked his mate's frame. He hurriedly lifted his head to see what was amiss.

Elrohir was staring at him, eyes wide with shock. And then he turned his face away but Legolas saw the sudden glitter in his eyes. “You must have comforted each other well,” he bit out, his tone imbued with acid.

Legolas stared at him in horrified realization. Panicked, he sobbed and hoarsely cried: “Ah! That is not so! I was true to you, Elrohir! I kept faith! You must believe me!”

Elrohir winced at the desperate clutch at his shoulders and the nigh incoherent spill of refutations that followed Legolas' initial outburst, telling evidence of the prince's intense distress. He quickly turned back to face Legolas. There was no trace whatsoever of his proud warrior Wood-elf in the tear-streaked, beseeching countenance before him. Shoving aside his suspicions, Elrohir hearkened to his woodland love's broken pleas.

“Hush, I believe you,” he said, brushing the salty streaks from the prince's cheeks with his fingers. “I believe you. But there is something that still nags at you,” he cautiously added. “Will you not share it with me? Will you not permit me to help lighten your load?”

Caught in Elrohir's secure embrace, Legolas could hold back no longer but spilled the story of his testing in the Golden Wood. His doubts and fears and revulsion at knowing even the tiniest glimmer of desire to relieve himself of his fervent yearning for his mate through whatever means available to him. And he spoke of the evil Frodo Baggins' burden had nearly wrought on him.

“It whispered in my mind over and again,” he said in a hushed voice. “Ease your need. Your beloved will understand. And I - I nearly listened to it when I missed you most. Forgive me, my love. I proved weak and unworthy of you.”

Elrohir's misgivings had eased with the revelation of the truth. But he saw that his mate's had not. “Legolas! You did naught but endure the Ring's importuning,” he pointed out. “What is there to forgive?”

“But I permitted Aragorn to take liberties with me! He touched me in ways no other but you has ever done and I did not stop him.” Legolas paused, shuddering with shame at the recollection of his fevered encounter with the Ranger. He closed his eyes and covered his mouth with trembling fingers, fighting to still the quivering of his lips. “Had our bond not restrained me, Eru only knows how far I might have fallen,” he whispered raggedly.

“But you did not,” Elrohir countered gently, compelling him to meet his gaze. “Haldir told you that he did not believe you had faltered, so palpable was your love for me to all the Galadhrim. 'Twas the Ring that confused you and dared use you. You dwell overmuch on the temptation you faced and not on your rejection of it. Have faith in yourself, melethen.”-my love.

Legolas' breath hitched at the tender remonstration. The Lórien guard's words came back to the prince and belatedly registered on him. He considered the temptation the Ring had presented to Galadriel herself. Aye, it bore a terrible influence that worked in particular on the weaknesses of those it sought to corrupt. Galadriel's dream of a greater realm over which she might be queen. Boromir's nigh obsessive devotion to his land and people. His own deep yearning for his Peredhel mate compounded by the shock and grief of peril and loss. And Aragorn… The Ring had stoked the Dúnadan's youthful infatuation for him into a dark desire. Sudden understanding struck him.

“'Twas Aragorn the Ring sought to seduce,” he blurted out.

Elrohir sighed and nodded. “He is a man beset by doubts of his worth and destiny though he hides them well. And as you have already gleaned, he never truly rid himself of his fascination with you for 'twas a desire never assuaged. Can you imagine the struggles in his heart? Lonely for Arwen, forced to take on the leadership of your band when you thought Mithrandir perished and unsure of the wisdom of his choices. And then he was thrown into daily company with you for whom he nursed a passion for so long. Is it any wonder that he faltered in Lórien? The Ring ferreted out his most immediate weaknesses and played on them. And it did not require your capitulation to achieve its purpose. What it sought was to sow disharmony amongst your ranks.”

Feeling Legolas shiver, he held him more tightly ere continuing. “Had you yielded there would have been shame and guilt between you and that would have led to irreparable rancor,” he reasoned. “Likewise, had he pressed for your compliance and you repelled him with force, still the Ring would have won. For how could you labor together when trust and friendship had been eroded? The Quest would have ended long ere you parted ways with Frodo at Parth Galen.”

“Haldir and I discussed that,” Legolas admitted.

Elrohir's smile was mirthless. “'Twas prudent of my grandsire to send him to guard you,” he remarked. “Had the worst happened, you and Estel might still hold on to your friendship if the Elf he came to blows with was one other than you.” He stroked Legolas' hair soothingly while the archer digested the information. Seeing the remnants of doubt in the frown that still marred his mate's features, he quietly said, “Rest assured I never doubted that your heart belonged to me.”

“Never doubted-” Legolas peered curiously at Elrohir. “You foresaw this?” When the Elf-knight hesitantly nodded, he gaped at him in shock. “Eru's blood!” he said at last. “You knew that I might stray?”

“I knew you would be tempted,” Elrohir corrected. “And when Aragorn pursued you, I understood that 'twas he who would tempt you. But your steadfastness showed me the depth of your love for me. What I feared more was that you might be driven into a corner. What if when the moment arrived great evil overcame you? You would then blame yourself for what you could not help. As you do now.”

Legolas shook his head in some umbrage. “Why did you not tell me?” he demanded. “I might have been better guided.”

“I wanted to. The Valar know how afraid I was at the first; before I realized it would not be your doing but another's. But I did not dare hinder what was to be - what had to be.” When the archer started to object, he silenced him with a finger on his lips. “We are but part of a great design. We each have a role to play and play those roles we must if Middle-earth's future is to be assured. I knew you would act on the knowledge and, because 'tis not your particular skill, you would likely do something that might harm all our tomorrows.”

“But had you counselled me-”

“Would you have listened? More likely you would have started to avoid Aragorn given his past infatuation with you. You might even have turned your back on your preordained duty.”

“Yet you sought to stop me from carrying out that duty,” Legolas reminded him.

The Elf-knight started then looked away. When he faced Legolas once more, he was palpably distressed. His eyes were haunted and he bit his lip in obvious agitation. Feeling the brush of Legolas' lips against his cheek, he collected himself and said: “'Twas a moment of folly. Out of dread that I might lose you after all. I know you love me, Legolas. I know you would never willingly share yourself with another. But I could not still my fear that circumstances would compel you to yield to temptation.” Elrohir took a deep breath before uttering a long held dread, his voice taut and unsteady. “The thought of you in another's arms devastated me. I could not stop myself from trying to keep you at my side to ensure that… that you would remain mine alone.”

Legolas stared at him. Elrohir had somehow managed to swallow his fear and watch him leave in company with the very person he knew might have a hand in the staining of their sacred pact. Even if shame and duty had driven him to master his dread, it was still a feat Legolas could not imagine himself accomplishing. And it spoke volumes of the Elf-knight's regard for his Mirkwood spouse.

When Elrohir said nothing more, the archer lowered his head and lay silent for many heartbeats, his cheek pressed against his mate's shoulder. At length, he lifted his fair head and Elrohir caught his breath at the sweet radiant smile that set his countenance aglow.

“You had faith in me,” Legolas murmured reverently. “Truly blessed am I to have won you.” He poured hungry kisses over Elrohir's cheeks and lips, his neck and shoulders and chest. “I love you, Elrohir,” he fervently whispered over and again. “I love you so much.”

His need and passion surge across the channel of their binding to enflame his lover. It did not take long before Elrohir felt himself tense, brimming over with razing desire. He pinned Legolas down while he embarked on a more thorough but no less impassioned exploration of the archer's body, relishing what he could not in their first explosive joining. Soon he had Legolas writhing wantonly under him, begging him to claim him anew.

Wary of hurting his mate so soon, he slipped his fingers into the archer to ascertain his readiness for another breaching. Legolas softly crooned his approval, arching into the sensual incursion. Unable to stay himself any further, he swiftly gathered their emergent seed and spread the copious cream along Elrohir's reawakened length. Undone by the eager caress, Elrohir looped Legolas' long legs high around his waist and cleaved him deeply with one slow stroke.

Legolas moaned with delight at that sublime piercing. He locked his ankles tightly behind Elrohir that he might wholly sheath the formidable girth of his Elf-knight's awesome sword. Raising himself on one arm, he curled the other around Elrohir to pull him closer until their mouths met in never wholly quenched hunger. In the union of their bodies and spirits did they find peace and joy and for that night at least the tumult in the world beyond did not have the power to trouble them.

**********

The departure of the Rangers early the following day was accompanied by varying degrees of skepticism and dire prognostications of ill fortune. But Éowyn grieved not only Aragorn's going but also the gilded cage that kept her duty's captive and thus robbed her of the purpose and glory she believed a shield-maiden's due. Secure once more in Elrohir's centuries-long regard, Legolas could spare her more sympathy than he had the previous eve and days after he would recall her sorrow and wonder what destiny had in store for this stern yet comely daughter of kings.

That he himself had passed through some trial and emerged victorious was apparent in his glowing mien and the return of his sunny demeanor. Gimli observed him keenly as he mounted Arod, marking his sparkling eyes and ready smile.

The Dúnedain rode out of the encampment and followed the stone-lined path toward the Dwimorberg with Aragorn leading the way and the sons of Elrond and Legolas and Gimli taking up the rear. But as the company passed the outermost line of trees that swallowed the path, Elrohir rode up to his foster-brother's side. Legolas watched them with great interest. They spoke together, keeping their voices low. Aragorn at one point tentatively reached out a hand in an apparent gesture of reconciliation. Elrohir took his hand in seeming rapprochement when of a sudden he pulled Aragorn closer, almost unbalancing the Man. Leaning slightly toward the Ranger, he murmured something more. Legolas caught his breath when he saw Aragorn's ears actually redden and a slow flush spread down the back of the Ranger's neck. Aragorn half turned his head as if to glance back then seemed to think better of it. Instead, he bowed his head to Elrohir as if in obedience to some bidding. With a flinty smile, Elrohir turned his steed about and returned to his place before Legolas and Gimli, sparing a warm smile for his prince.

When the company began the descent to the Dimholt, Gimli tapped Legolas on the shoulder. The Elf-prince glanced back at him inquiringly.

“Nervous, Legolas?” the Dwarf asked.

“Nervous?” the Elf repeated in some bemusement.

“You are as fidgety as a Hobbit stealing into a dragon's lair,” Gimli commented. “I thought you said you did not fear passing through the Paths of the Dead.”

“And I do not, master Dwarf!”

“Then why do you keep squirming? If I did not think it impossible for an Elf, I would suspect you of having a sore bottom.”

Ahead, Elrohir was heard to chuckle. Behind them, Elladan stifled a snicker. Legolas suddenly grinned.

“You hit the mark, my friend,” he quipped. “I am indeed afflicted with an ache of some consequence. But that is only to be expected when one's lord is as generous of girth as mine is.”

Shocked silence met his statement followed a while later by a spew of Dwarvish imprecations until at last Gimli peevishly sputtered: “Drat it, Elf! You need not be so honest about everything!”

Legolas softly laughed while his friend struggled to calm himself. He looked ahead, his eyes centering on Elrohir's broad shoulders and strong back. At length, he heard Gimli quietly ask, “May I assume that you no longer need shielding from certain quarters?”

Legolas' grin widened. “Aye, Gimli, you may,” he confirmed.

Gimli looked around him to peer at the gallant Elf-knight. He nodded and said: “Good, good. I was not raised to play nursemaid to any Elf after all. However,” he added before Legolas could reply, “I was taught to always look after my friends.”

Legolas glanced back at him, a merry smile curling his mouth. “I know,” he said. “You have my deepest gratitude, dear friend.”

Something that sounded like a snort was his only answer but Legolas knew that Gimli was very pleased indeed.

***********************

Glossary:

gwanur - brother or sister but a more accurate translation would be kinsman or kinswoman

Parth Galen - green lawn at the foot of Amon Hen where the Fellowship was broken

To be continued…
- 45
- 46
- 47
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

Twilight Tales - An Ounce of Kindness