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Midnight In Ithilien	By : MidnightBard Category: Lord of the Rings Movies > Slash - Male/Male Views: 2402 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Lord of the Rings book series and movie series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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�Midnight In
Ithilien�

Rated: NC-17 for explicit sexual encounters

Summary: You, a young
maiden of Gondor, have a chance meeting with Legolas and Aragorn, many years
after the War of the Ring. A Pspanspan style='mso-spacerun:yes'> M/F
pairings

Author�s Note: I do
not own any of the following characters.
They remain the property of the Tolkien estate and well�yourself�seeing
as you are one of the main characters. I
receive absolutely nothing for this story.
The only payment I receive is *finally* getting this story out of my
head and the reviews of readers like you.
Enjoy!

~~ *** *** ~~~~~~ ***~~~~~~ ***~~~~~~ ***~~~~~~ ***~~~~~~
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The warm late spring breeze blows over your body and you can
feel the promise of an early summer in it.
Around you, all the world is bathed in the silvery glow of moonlight and
starlight combined, for it is a clear night, and as you look up, you see that
the number of the stars out this night are too many by far to count. Here and there, you recognize one of the
constellations and call to mind the story that is theirs. Ithilien is so peaceful at night and the cool
grass feels soft under your bare feet.
You had disposed of your shoes much earlier into the worn brown leather
satchel that you carry, for you had done much walking that day. From the city of Minas Tirith
you have traveled to fair Ithilien, where Legolas and the other Mirkwood elves
had come to live years before. A glance
at the moon tells you that the night is still fairly young, but you decide
against going straight to your friend Qualinos� house. Instead, you decide to camp out under tstarstars that evening, for the warm weather and the broad, open skies are far more
inviting than four walls and a roof.
Besides, this is not that first time that you have traveled to Ithilien
and had to camp out along the way.

You make camp beside a lazy stream, meandering quietly from
it�s source in the distance into the other horizon. It is clean though, and you take a sip of the
icy water, which feels good on your throat.
The water in your wineskin has long since become warm, heated by the sun
all throughout the day. You open your
pack and take out a half loaf of bread, some dried meats, and a small hunk of
yellow cheese. You make this your dinner
and quietly store away the rest of your provisions when the last bite as been
swallowed. Feeling satisfied but not in
the least bit sleepy, you stretch out on your back and look quietly into the
silent heavens above. All around you,
crickets chirp their merry songs, some near and others far. Slowly, despite yourself, you begin to
lightly doze.

You are soon wakened from your partial sleep by voices, one
deep � a man�s � and one light and merry � an elf�s. You do not understand what it is that they
speak of, for though Qualinos is an elf and has taught you, you still
understand little of the elven speech.
Curiosity swells into your heart and you decide to investigate. You stand and brush a little dry dust from
your sky blue dress before heading off in a western direction, taking your one
small bag of provisions with you. Now
the voices are growing clearer and you duck into the deep shadows of a clump of
trees ringed by high grasses. You peer
out to the north and there, framed by the flickering orange-red glow of a
campfire, you see two figures. As they
speak together, still in Elvish, you come to realize who they are: King Aragorn
and Lord Legolas. You gasp slightly in
sure; te; the two are only partially clad, their tunics cast to one side. Each of them is well made, their chests
chiseled and sculpted by long years in battle, their arm muscles perfectly
forged by the weight of the weapons that they wield.

Your gasp does not go unnoticed, much to your chagrin. The speech becomes hushed and falters, and an
elvish ear turns to your general direction.
A sword and a bow are drawn. The
king�s voice calls out, clear and commanding in the night air: �Show yourself!�

You hesitate for a moment, but a second command to come
forth forces you to obey, for Aragorn is your lord. Timidly, you step out from the shadows, still
clutching your bag.

�It is only I, my lords, Alasya.� You know that Aragorn will recognize you, for
you are one of the cooks at the palace and are traveling with his permission to
Ithilien.

�Alasya?� Aragorn asks.
�By the Valar! You had us wondering
who was there. I am glad that it was
only you and no foe. But what were you
doing there in the darkness?�

�I stopped for the night to camp,� you confess, �but when I
heard voices I came to investigate it. I
do not rightly know why.�

In the firelight, you see a smile spread over Aragorn�s face
and you instantly begin to relax. You
notice too that his hair hangs limply, weighed down by water; the two must have
taken a swim, you realize.

�Come, sit by the fire!� Legolas offers. �Ungallant it would be to turn you back into
the darkness.�

�No, I mustn�t. I am
ashamed for having intruded upon you,� you begin to say.

You turn and leave, breaking into a run as you go, back to
your own campsite. Part of you longs to
light a fire, but the greater part forbids it.
The images of the half stripped man and elf burn in your mind, and you
find yourself imaging much more.
Subconsciously, your hand strays from playing with the hem of your dress
to playing with more secret regions of yourself. Slowly, by degrees, you realize your hand is
moving faster and youide ide to give in to your more carnal desires. You lose yourself to the desire to bring
yourself to release.

You are completely unaware that you have been followed until
it is too late and you lay sprawled on the ground, nearly at your release. Immediately you are drawn back into reality,
your sensual daydreams lost, and you are mortified to see Aragorn and Legolas
standing about you. Flushing,
you start to get to your feet.

�I�we�are so sorry to have disturbed you,� Aragorn stammers
out. �Wn>�We only wanted to be sure that no
harm came to you in the darkness. You
fled us so quickly.�

�Yes, well, I shall be perfectly fine,� you answer,
embarrassed and at a loss for words. �I
can manage on my own.�

Legolas looks long at you before speaking. �But might we not be of any assistance to you
at all?�

You sense more than one meaning to his words and before you
are aware of what it is you�re saying, you answer him. �Well, now that you mention it, yes.�

Legolas brightens and draws you to him with a graceful
motion. His lips descend lightly down on
yours, claiming them for his own. He
kisses you lightly at first before it becomes more demanding. At length, he breaks from you.

�Are you sure you want this?� he asks.

You nod. �Yes�but I
am afraid.�

�Be not afraid of me or of Aragorn. No harm shall come to you.>
>

�It is not that�long have I desired to lay with you�both of
you,� you admit. �I am afraid because I
am but a maiden.�

Aragorn nods his understanding. �Fe>�Fear not.
We shall be gentle. But Legolas,
my friend, which of us shall be first?
Shall age come before beauty?�

�Oh, do you not want a turn, Estel? For surely in age and beauty I surpass any
mortal, king, no?� Legolas quips back with a smirk. �I say let the lady choose.�

You look from one to the other for several long moments
until at last, your mind seems made up.
�I have always heard that elves are the gentler lovers,� you say
hesitantly. �So I will lay with Legolas
first.�

The elf cres res you instantly with his strong arms in a
loving embrace and once again claims your mouth for his own. Gentle but demanding are his kisses and they
command all your attention, so that you barely notice his light fingers undoing
the laces of your dress. But one by one
the laces are undone and he breaks his kiss to slip the garment to the
ground. He looks at you, drinking in the
sight of you before laying you down upon your open bedroll. Quickly, his delicate fingers remove his
tunic, which he obviously put on before trailing after you. The green material is tossed to one side and
he lowers himself down, resting his body carefully on top of yours. His hot mouth covers one of your hard
nipples, his tongue teasing you every now and again. You can only moan as he works one side and
then the other. Lower, you can feel his
arousal pressing hard against you. You
move your hands from his back so that they can begin their work undoing the
fastenings of his pants. You suddenly
feel as if you might frown, for your fingers seem to be moving clumsily, but as
Legolas begins to nip ever so lightly on your right nipple, they seem to get
the point and now make short work of the fastenings.

Now Legolas moves from youd atd at first you whimper at thoss oss of his mouth on you. But shortly
that whimper is replaced as he shucks his pants and you see him in his full
glory. Tall and fair he is, and his
arrow seems ready for immediate flight.
Immediately, you long for him to enter you, but he moves so that he can
lay down with his head between your legs.
At first, yre are a little puzzled, but after a moment or two all
questions flee as a hot, hard tongue laps at your swollen mound. A growing need to come takes hold of you and
you beg the elf for release. Yet even as
you plead with him, he slows his actions down so that they become torturously
slow. His tongue teases your clitoris,
working it until you are nearly frantic with desire.

�Please, my lord,� you beg but even as you speak, you feel a
slender finger enter you.

You moan as he slowly inserts the digit little by little and
begins to stroke the inside walls of your vagina. Feather light kisses are rained down on your
stomach as he pumps his finger into you.
Faster he moves now until at last the barrier is broken and the sweet
release of orgasm rips through your body.
You are unaware of whether you scream or not, for now Legolas shifts
himself once again to lay upon you. His
mouth covers your own and you can still taste yourself on his lips and on his
tongue as it flicks into your own mouth.
His hard member presses incessantly into your stomach and you reach down
to stroke it. You feel the elf buck as
you brush your fingertips over it before grasping his rock hard rod in your
hand. Heavy and thick it seems and you
marvel at his length as you stroke it from base to tip. He moans contentedly.

He senses your desire and soon his hand covers your
own. You release your hold even as he
takes hold himself, guiding himself to your moist cavern. The tip of his penis pushes against your
opening as he begins to ease himself inside you, going slowly and allowing you
to adjust for his size. Time seems to
stand still as the last inch of him enters you, faster now. In an instant, you feel your maidenhead break
as you take in the full length of him.
You grip onto his shoulders and he slowly begins to pull out until he is
nearly free of you. When all but the
head of his arrow is withdrawn he begins to thrust. His pace is slow at first, as it has been in
all that he has done, for he is being gentle with you. But you grind against him, urging him to move
faster and you let slip your hands to the small of his back.

Legolas complies with your unspoken request and begins to move
faster, his lips returning to their assault on yours. Now your hands continue their southward
journey and you begin to fondle his firm ass.
Once again he bucks as first your finger traces languid circles around
his anus and then enters it. With your free
hand, you continue to pull into him, urging him to penetrate deeper, harder,
and faster. Again he adjusts his speed,
neither going to fast nor too slow, but deliberately drawing out the experience
for you. His tongue continues to probe
and explore your willing mouth. You feel
yourself slowly getting closer to orgasm and wonder briefly if he is too. But all questions are dispelled as he thrusts
faster and harder. In a matter of
moments you reach your breaking point, seconds before he does, releasing his
seed into your dark depths. You both
break from your kisses and you bury your head into his neck and shoulder,
effectively muffling your screams. All
the time, your inner muscles contract around him, milking his elfhood for every
last drop.

When at last he is completely spent, he withdraws from you and you suddenly
feel empty inside. But Legolas smiles
warmly at you and you feel yourself melt.

�You have let a prince worship you thus far,� he says after
a moment as he stands, �now let a king do the same.�
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Midnight In Ithilien