“I think it’s rather sweet,” Elladan said.

“You think everything about humans is rather sweet,” Elrohir replied.

“Whereas you find them…how did you put it, loud and smelly?”

“Well, Men are loud and they smell bad,” Elrohir answered.

“Estel doesn’t smell bad.”

“Sometimes he does.”

“If father heard you talking like that…” Elladan’s voice trailed off, as he saw his foster-brother approaching.

Elladan started to call out, and then Lord Elrond came into view behind the young Man.  Elladan saw that Estel was unhappy and their father was trying to explain something.  Estel would not stop, but walked even more quickly away from Lord Elrond.

Elladan turned and exchanged a look with his twin.  Elrohir shrugged, as if Estel’s distress meant nothing to him, but Elladan knew that Elrohir’s indifference was only a pose.  Underneath Elrohir’s genteel contempt for humans, the Elven prince loved his foster-brother as much as Elladan and Arwen did.  Elladan smiled.  Well, maybe not as much as their sister did.

“Come,” Elladan said, as Estel disappeared over the arching curve of stone that spanned the frothing, tumbling river.

The twins caught up with their father, and Elladan requested a few moments of the Elf Lord’s time.

“What troubles you?” the perceptive Elrond asked.

“Father, it is Estel who is troubled, I think,” Elladan said.

“Ah, you saw,” Elrond said gravely.  “Estel is feeling very human today.”  The Elf Lord gestured to a marble bench in invitation.

Elladan sat and looked up at his father in respectful silence.  Elrohir remained standing behind his brother, but put one foot up on the bench and leaned his forearms on his knee.

“I have not spoken to you of this in some time,” Elrond said.  “I assume I do not need to, but I will remind you anyway.  Estel is a Man, a young Man, but a Man nonetheless.  He is not, nor ever will be, an Elf.  This is what troubles him.”

“It would certainly trouble me,” Elrohir mumbled.

“My sons,” Elrond said, though it was plain that he spoke for Elrohir’s ears.  “Try and imagine yourself as Estel for just a moment.  Everything has been taken from you: your home, your parents, even your name.  You are sent alone to live among another Race that has gifts beyond that of your own.  At every turn, you are reminded that you are physically slower, duller of senses, mortal.  How would you feel?”

“I would be very sad,” Elladan said.

“I daresay you would,” Elrond nodded.  “What of you, Elrohir?”

“You paint a grim picture, sire,” Elrohir said.  “I had not thought of it quite that way.  I thought Estel should be more grateful that he was allowed to live among us for it is dangerous to harbor him.”

“He is the hope of Mankind,” Elrond said.  “I would still protect him even if Sauron should return and seek him here.”

Elladan and Elrohir bowed their dark heads respectfully to their sire, and took their leave of him.

“Do you remember what we were talking about?” Elrohir asked his brother.  “That human custom you were speaking of?”

Elladan rolled his eyes.  “It was only a few minutes ago.”

“I have an idea,” Elrohir said, ignoring Elladan’s comment.

“What sort of idea?” Elladan asked suspiciously.

“Well,” Elrohir threw an arm around his twin’s neck as they walked, “Have you seen the way Estel’s eyes follow our royal guest?”

Elladan frowned.  “What are you saying?”

Elrohir put his lips close to Elladan’s ear and whispered something that made his twin’s eyes light up like Earendil.  Elladan nodded enthusiastically, as Elrohir continued, and then made a suggestion.  By the time they reached their home, they had a plan.

~~~~~~~~~~

“I do not wish to look at the stars tonight, Elladan,” Aragorn said.  “I am weary.”

“Weary of what, Estel?  Come with us.”

“Very well,” Aragorn sighed, and followed his foster-brothers out onto the platform.

“What is that?” Elladan said, pointing to a glimmer of light among the trees to the west.

Elrohir frowned.  “It is moving.”

Aragorn watched the silvery light, wondering why the twins even remarked on it.  This forest was full of strange lights.

“Do you not wish to see what it is, Estel?” Elrohir asked.

Aragorn shrugged.  The twins looked at one another in consternation.  Lord Elrond and their own experience had taught them that humans were nothing if not curious.  They had expected their foster-brother to run after the light.   They would have to be blunt.

“It is your name-day, Aragorn,” Elladan said solemnly.

Aragorn was stunned by the fact that they knew the day of his birth and that Elladan had called him by his true name.  “How did you know?”

“Father told us,” Elrohir said.  “We got you a gift.”

Aragorn’s mouth curved in a shy smile and Elrohir saw what Elladan saw in the mortal.  Elrohir admitted it to himself.  Their foster-brother was different from other Men.

“However,” Elladan said, “you must find your gift.”

Aragorn looked confused until Elrohir leaned toward him and whispered loudly.

“The light.”

“Oh.”  Aragorn found the splinter of silvery light with his eyes again.

“Follow it,” Elladan prompted.

Aragorn looked at his foster-brothers dubiously for a long moment.

“Go on,” Elladan said.  “You will like it.”

“Thank you,” Aragorn said, and hurried down the stairs.

Elrohir smiled at his twin.  “I believe you are right, brother.  Estel is going to like our present very much.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Aragorn walked through the moon-silvered forest, tracking the elusive glow.  Some distance from Lord Elrond’s hall, he entered a small clearing, through which a small brook ran.  The light he pursued hung over the rushing water, as though waiting for him to catch up.  It floated to the other side of the stream and winked out.

Aragorn hurried across the meadow and leapt over the water.  He misjudged the distance in the dark, and his foot came down in the stream.  He slipped on a mossy rock and fell onto his backside in the cold water.  When he looked up, someone was extending a helping hand.  With a start, Aragorn recognized the Prince of Mirkwood.

“Is it a mortal custom to bathe with the clothes on?” Legolas asked.

Aragorn was glad of the darkness.  The Prince couldn’t see that he was blushing in embarrassment.  This was certainly no way to impress the lovely, elegant visitor to Lord Elrond’s court.  In truth, Aragorn did not see how a mere mortal could hope to attract the attention of one so perfect.

“The way you are looking at me,” Legolas said, “makes me feel very odd.”

Aragorn groaned.  “I do not mean to offend you, Prince.”

“I am called Legolas, Aragorn,” the Prince said.

A tremor rocked the Man to his foundation at the sound of his name spoken by Legolas’ sweet voice.  It was as though a great silver bell had tolled in his heart and the reverberations echoed in every cell of his body.

“Why do you not call me Estel?”

“Elrohir told me that you preferred to be called Aragorn.  This is not one of his ill-considered jokes, is it?’

“No,” the young Man said.  “Please call me Aragorn.”

The beautiful warrior-prince inclined his head to an equal.  “I am honored, Heir of Isildur.  I had hoped to meet Lord Elrond’s fosterling while I am here.  I share Elladan’s interest in the world of Men, but my father rarely lets me indulge it.”

“I would be glad to satisfy any curiosity you might have,” Aragorn said, and then remembered why he was out here.  “I am looking for a gift,” he said.

“I would say you have found it,” Legolas replied.  “I am to wish you a happy name-day.”

“Thank you,” Aragorn said, perplexed.

“You should not stay in those wet clothes,” Legolas pointed out after a small silence.

Aragorn shivered, knowing the Elf was right.  He needed to get out of his cold, wet garments.

“Come,” Legolas said, and led Aragorn along the bank to a spot protected from the wind.

The Elf built a fire on the mossy swale, and Aragorn stripped off his clothes.  Seeing the Man shaking with cold, Legolas knelt and put his arms around the shivering mortal.  Aragorn was so surprised that he jumped.

“Forgive me,” Legolas said.  “I did not mean to trespass, only to provide you with warmth.”

“I was but startled,” Aragorn answered.  “You did not give offense.”

Legolas’ strong arms stole around the alluringly fragile mortal body once more.  The Elf lightly chafed the Man’s bare skin, encouraging circulation to return.  Soon the chill left Aragorn’s bones to be replaced by something else.

The young Man was mortified to feel his cock stir against his thigh as the Elf’s hands moved over his body.  Then what Aragorn feared most happened.  Legolas’ fingers brushed the mortal’s untimely arousal and Aragorn’s stiff Manhood twitched.  Aragorn ducked his head in a paroxysm of shame and jerked away.

“Ah, I am sorry,” Legolas said softly.  “I have trespassed again.  It is forbidden to touch you here, is it not?”

Aragorn flinched as the slim fingers settled on his thigh.  “No,” he said in a tight voice, as the fingers moved upward, “but…ah, no do not.”

“Why not?” Legolas asked, his head tilted charmingly to the side.

“I am a Man,” Aragorn said as though it explained everything.

“Yes, I had noticed,” Legolas said drolly.  “It’s the hair.”

Aragorn turned his face from the exquisite Elf.  “Men are different.  When you touch me…there, I cannot help but react.”

“Are you aroused?” Legolas asked curiously.

“Aye,” Aragorn answered honestly.

“Aroused enough to lay with me?”

Aragorn’s eyes popped and his mouth fell open.  It was a long moment before he could speak.  “Why would say such a thing to me, Prince?”

Legolas looked the young mortal in the eyes as he spoke.  “Perhaps it is an unworthy or unseemly request in your eyes, but I wish to lay with a Man.”

“Why?” Aragorn blurted out in disbelief.

“Men are different,” Legolas gave Aragorn’s words back to him with a smile.

“But you are beautiful as a dream made flesh, and I am…as I am.”

Legolas smiled again and Aragorn’s heart skipped a beat.  “I find you beautiful as well,” the Elvish Prince said.  “Is that so strange to you?”

“Yes,” Aragorn said flatly.

“Then I am sorry.  I hoped to coax you into making love to me.  Elrohir and Elladan knew of my desire and arranged that I should meet you alone.”

“You are sincere,” Aragorn realized in wonder.

“I know this act has more significance for humans,” Legolas said, “and I mean no disrespect to your customs, but it would please me greatly if you would show me how Men love.”

“This cannot be real; it is a dream,” Aragorn murmured.

“Then let me dream with you,” Legolas said.

Aragorn nodded, half-expecting his foster-brothers to burst from the trees, laughing at his gullibility in believing that this perfect princeling would ever consider bedding him.  Then Legolas’ lips touched his and Aragorn forgot all about Elladan and Elrohir.  He forgot everything but the feel of the silken lips on his skin as the Elf’s kisses strayed down his neck.  The fire that Aragorn had held at bay flared to roaring life.

Aragorn wrapped his arms around the Prince and pulled him close.  The Man’s mouth sought the Elf’s and captured it in a kiss far more heated than the one Legolas had given him.  The Elf made a small sound as Aragorn’s tongue explored his mouth, and the man’s arousal pulsed in response.  A sudden fear that he was proceeding too quickly struck the young Man.

“Legolas?”

“Aye, Aragorn,” the Prince sighed.

“You must tell me if I am too rough.  I have never…” Aragorn’s voice trailed off.

“It is your roughness I crave,” the Prince confessed.

“I have no wish to hurt you.”

Elvish laughter rang like chimes of crystal and after a moment, Aragorn joined in.

“As if I could hurt you,” the Man chuckled at his own foolishness.  “If this is truly your wish, Prince, I would be honored to show you how this Man loves.”

“Iesten.”

Aragorn looked into the celestial blue eyes turned beseechingly to him and wondered if he were mad.  Why was he hesitating?  He had wanted the beautiful Prince of Mirkwood since he had first seen him riding into Rivendell.  Was it perhaps that Aragorn knew that this was not the casual encounter that Legolas considered it?  Was it that Aragorn knew that if he lay with this perfect being, he would fall so deeply in love that he would never be free?  Then Legolas’ hand stole down his side and grasped his Manhood.

Aragorn threw back his head, a gasping breath hissing in over his teeth, as the Elf’s cool fingers stroked his yearning arousal.  He thought he might faint when the Prince’s pretty mouth engulfed the taut head of his cock, and he felt the touch of Legolas’ tongue.  The Man was helpless before this tender assault, and lay back on his elbows, while the Elf satisfied his curiosity about the genitalia of humans.

“Are all Men so large?” Legolas asked as he relinquished the straining rod.

“I-I do not know,” Aragorn answered.

“It is not important,” Legolas said, “but you are large compared to Elfkind.”

“Must we speak of it?”

The Prince laughed softly.  “We do not have to speak at all.  Have you no means of stopping my chatter, Aragorn?”

The Man took the hint and claimed the Elf’s mouth once more.  This time Legolas joined the erotic duel of tongues and drew Aragorn down to the grass atop him.  The young Man deftly worked the fastenings of the Prince’s clothing until the Elf was as naked as he.  Neither noticed the chill as they mapped the topography of one another’s bodies.

“Wait,” Legolas said breathlessly, when their lips parted.  “I brought something to make this easier.  Just a moment.”

Aragorn waited, his cock throbbing with each beat of his wildly racing heart.  The urge to plunge his rigid length into the Elf’s heat was well nigh overwhelming.  His hands stroked the silken flesh of their own volition while Legolas rummaged through his discarded garments.  At last, he found what he was looking for.

“Give me but a moment to prepare myself for you,” the Prince said as he unstoppered a small bottle.

“Let me,” Aragorn said, holding out his hand.

Legolas cocked an eyebrow dubiously, but handed the bottle to the Man.  Aragorn poured oil onto his fingers and eased one into the Elf’s opening.  Legolas sighed and opened his thighs wider, granting the Man greater access.   Aragorn reveled in the tight heat, pushing another finger through the tight ring of muscle.  Carefully, he probed, knowing what he was doing in theory, but unsure enough to be cautious, as was his nature.  Then Legolas moaned and moved convulsively, his slim hips bucking off the grass.

“Is this good?” the Man asked hesitantly.

Legolas moaned again.  “It is good,” he said.

Aragorn continued to stroke the spot that made the Elf writhe and whimper, and wrapped his other hand around the Prince’s pretty cock.  Legolas cried out as the Man stroked his arousal, and pumped his hips in time to the tempo set by the tantalizing hand.

“No more,” Legolas panted.  “May I have your cock now?”

Aragorn need no further encouragement.  Taking his straining erection in hand, the young Man slicked it with the remaining oil and brought the tip to rest against Legolas’ nether port.  Delicately, he eased forward.

Legolas’ eyes opened wide.  “By Eru!” he cried out.  “It feels so good.”

Tears sprang to Aragorn’s eyes as he forged ahead, burying himself in the Elf’s narrow scabbard.  The sensation of heat and tightness that surrounded his arousal nearly undid the mortal.  With a supreme effort, Aragorn managed to stave off his release.  He paused with his rod fully sheathed, and looked down at the flawless face of Mirkwood’s Prince.

“You are so very beautiful,” he said.

“You are beautiful in my eyes as well,” Legolas replied.  “Now, will you give me pleasure?”

Aragorn’s hips pushed forward as though the Elf had commanded it.  Legolas groaned deep in his chest and his hands came up to grasp the Man’s forearms.   The Prince’s fingers clenched and relaxed on the hard muscles of Aragorn’s arms as the Man entered and withdrew at a gentle pace.  The waves of pleasure engendered by the sweet friction consumed both like liquid wildfire and their movements soon became more urgent.

“Ah,” the Elf sighed, “yes, Aragorn.  Please do not stop.”

Aragorn did not intend to ever stop.  This was the most sublime pleasure he had ever felt and if he died between the Elf’s thighs, he would count the cost small for what he received in exchange.

Then Legolas pulled himself up until he could wrap his arms around the Man’s neck, and covered Aragorn’s mouth with his.  The Elf whimpered against the Man’s lips and Aragorn felt the slender rod twitch in his fist.

Aragorn cried out in unison with Legolas as the Elf’s shaft spilled warm fluid over his fingers and the Elf’s passage rippled along the length of the Man’s plunging cock.  Aragorn froze, lodged deep in the delicious heat of the Prince’s sheath as his staff erupted.  A deep groan of fulfillment escaped Aragorn’s throat as the Elf drew him down to nestle against his smooth chest.  They lay thus in contented silence for long moments as the forest around them seemed to celebrate their union, but eventually the chill drove them apart and into their clothing.

“Thank you,” Legolas said, bowing slightly from the waist in the Elvish manner.

Aragorn stared at the lovely Elf, a creature wrought of frost and starlight, with a surprising heat at its center and felt his heart contract painfully.  He knew with certainty that he would never know a joy as great as this again unless it be with this precious one.  Then Legolas was in his arms, pressing their foreheads together, twining his fingers with the Man’s.

“I do not want to leave you,” the Prince said, “but I must return to Mirkwood on the morrow.”

“I do not want you to leave,” Aragorn said.  “Perhaps I may come to Mirkwood.”

“What would bring you there?” Legolas fished.

“Mirkwood’s beautiful Prince would draw me thither,” Aragorn replied.

“I wish…” Legolas’ soft voice trailed off.  “My father,” he began again, and could not finish.

Aragorn looked into the Elf’s eyes and the Man’s head drooped.  “I understand,” he said.  “Of course your father would not approve of a mortal lover.”

“He need not know,” Legolas whispered.  “Elladan tells me you will be a Ranger.”

“Yes,” Aragorn with dawning comprehension.  “I must travel afar as a Ranger.”

“Then, perhaps we will meet someday in the Wilds.”

“I will make sure of it,” Aragorn promised.

“Now, I must go.  My escort will be looking for me.  Farewell, Aragorn.”

The Elf was gone like a dream on waking and Aragorn turned to make his way to Elrond’s hall by another route.  Aragorn owed his foster-brothers a debt of gratitude, and he intended to thank them right now.

THE END