~Part Three: The Way It Was~

The wilderness between Minas Tirith and Caras Gwedeir, May 7th, F.A. 13.

Aragorn:

The delegation from Minas Tirith set out at sunrise. They would take an other route than Haldir had done; the Elf had travelled to Osgiliath first, crossed the River there, and travelled southwards down the Harad Road, around Emyn Arnen. Aragorn would cross the River with his companions and then lead them ever along the Anduin, following its course downstream.

Aragorn was deep in thoughts as he led his company outside the city gates, Rulof riding beside him. Arwen had lovingly kissed him goodbye, a serene smile on her lips, her eyes beaming love and trust. Aragorn could not stop marvelling over the mysterious creature that was his wife. How many wives would willingly and in complete sanity send their husband to someone he had such strong feelings for? She seemed more comfortable with it than he himself was.

Behind Aragorn and Rulof rode Borlag and his daughter, a pretty, nineteen-year-old girl with reddish, curly hair and freckles. Elena was her name. Behind them came other officials, the two carts with luggage, and the minstrels came in the rear, together with the other artists and craftsmen. There were also some armed men from the king’s guard, but it was unlikely that they would have anything to do, and they were in high spirits; laughing and joking around, content with this excursion out of the Citadel.

“What will happen when we arrive in Caras Gwedeir, sire?” Rulof asked. “What sorts of events are scheduled for the festival?”

“We will hear that when we get there,” Aragorn said. “But if I heard correctly, there will be guests from all over Middle-earth. King Éomer has sent an assembly from Rohan, and there will be Men from Esgaroth, and Dale. Elves will be there, from Mirkwood, Rivendell and Lórien; and Dwarves from Aglarond and Erebor, and Hobbits from the Shire.” He smiled. “I wonder if my Hobbit-friends will be there: Sam, and Meriadoc and Peregrin.”

“And all will bring with them their own traditions, I am sure,” he continued. “Prepare to hear songs featuring the great Elves, Dwarves and Hobbits of the past, and to see dances you have never seen before. And there will be trading. The Dwarves will bring with them proof of their craftsmanship: tools, toys, musical instruments, jewelry, much in gold and silver… The Elves will bring clothing made according to elvish tradition: fine boots of supple leather, tunics, jerkins and cloaks. Weaponry: bows, arrows, hunting knives… And wine. Elves make the most delicious wine you’ve ever tasted.”

Rulof studied his king from aside, surprised by the increasing enthusiasm in his master’s voice. That was the old Ranger shining through there, Rulof realized. The travelling spirit still living in the king, awakened by the exciting prospect of the festival.

“And the Hobbits,” Aragorn continued, “have some interesting tradegoods of their own as well. Most of them related to food.” He smiled. “Cooking tools, jams, dried fruit… and beer. They will bring beer with them. That’s what I hope at any rate.” His smile grew broader. “The best beer in Middle-earth is brewed in the Shire, and it’s been too long since I last tasted it.”

“It all sounds very exciting,” Rulof said. He glanced back at the loaded carts. “I hope our goods will make a good impression on all those interesting folks. Elven wine and dwarven jewelry sound so much more appealing than Gondorian tobacco, soap and scented oils.”

“Don’t say that,” Aragorn said with a smile. “Gondor’s scented oils are the most asked-for in Middle-earth, and you can bet there are a lot of women out there who have sent out their husbands with money and the order to bring back a nice supply of oils. Especially the rosemary-scented oils are popular,” he winked, “believe me.”

“I am really looking forward to it,” Rulof said enthusiastically. “My brothers were mighty jealous when they heard I was going.”

They casually bantered on as they rode along the River in a leasury pace, and Aragorn was thankful for the distraction the conversation with Rulof provided; the prospect of seeing Legolas again, after so many years of silence, made him one tense bundle of nerves. How would Legolas receive him? Friendly, or with cold politeness, or even hostility? That, Aragorn admitted with a sigh, was very likely, given the way Aragorn had treated him in the past and the fact that Legolas had never, ever tried to keep in touch after the War.

Perhaps Aragorn’s coming to Caras Gwedeir and raking up the past would be only a nuisance to Legolas; perhaps he’d since long forgotten about what had happened between them, and built up a life of his own, like Aragorn had done. Perhaps he was even married. No, Aragorn then decided, he would have heard about that. The Lord of the Elves in Ithilien could not get married without a grand celebration. But it was very possible that he was seriously involved with someone. And that was all right, Aragorn told himself, Legolas deserved his happiness.

At any rate, it would be awkward to see Legolas again, and Aragorn had yet to decide how to approach the Elf.

That night, they set up camp close to the River. They sat around the fire and ate fish and bread, and after dinner, the minstrels took up their instruments and they sang of the glory of Gondor. Aragorn sat cross-legged between Borlag and Rulof, sometimes joining in a song, but silent for most of the time, just listening to the others. The food in his stomach and the warmth of the fire on his face made him feel rosy and content, and he felt like a Ranger again.

Later, when he stretched himself upon his blanket beneath the stars – his companions had tried to give him a more comfortable bed, but he had refused –, he could almost imagine that the quiet conversation of his travelling companions was the merry talk of the Hobbits. That was Gandalf’s pipe smoking there, not Borlag’s. With his eyes closed, Aragorn could easily picture Legolas, standing on guard a few meters away, like he had done so many times during their journey to Mordor. Alert, upright and not bothered by fatigue; his slender figure and the curve of his bow vaguely outlined by the moonlight, his hair touched by the breeze. A beautiful image, that filled Aragorn’s dreams during that night out.

Caras Gwedeir, the same day.

Legolas:

Guests had already begun to come to the city the day before; now, even more arrived. There were Men from Dale, Dwarves from Erebor (who were grumbling about the long journey but immediately brightened up when they saw Gimli and the lunch that stood ready for them) and a party of Elves from Mirkwood. Two of Legolas’s brothers, Arorod and Túrgwaith, who brought the warmest greetings from the rest of the family; artists, merchants and some court officials, among whom King Thranduil’s loyal counsellor, Êreg, and his daughter, Merilin.

It had been decided that Legolas would be responsible for housing the Elves and the Dwarves (in an attempt to bring the old enmity to an end for once and for all, as a sign of good will), while Faramir, in his palace, would take care of the Men and the Hobbits. And so the Elves and the Dwarves were given rooms in Legolas’s palace. Some had private rooms, others shared one, and all were content. The fall of Sauron had brought the mistrust between Elves and Dwarves to an end, and although the Dwarves, judging by their mumbled comments, were still convinced that the Dwarves were not to blame for the troubles in the past, in their hearts, they had come to respect ‘those lofty lembas-eaters’, as they called the Elves.

That afternoon, Legolas found himself wandering in the harbour, contently watching and listening to the cheerful chaos and activity there. People greeted him, both Men and Elves, for they knew who he was, but they left him in peace and no one was really surprised when he walked to the end of the pier and sat down there, his face to the River and his arms around his knees. That was how Haldir found him twenty minutes later.

Legolas heard the Elf coming before he saw him, and therefore he wasn’t in the least surprised when Haldir stood beside him and asked, “Mind if I join you?”

“Not at all,” Legolas said, looking up at the tall Elf. Haldir sat down so that he could face Legolas: leaning back against a pole, one leg dangling down, the other one bent. His hands he folded around his knee. They exchanged a look of understanding, and smiled. Haldir then turned his face to the side to look at the boats and the fishermen. Legolas kept his eyes on his friend. Ever since his arrival, Haldir had dedicated much of his time to offering Legolas distraction. Legolas hadn’t yet confided in him, and Haldir hadn’t pressed him, to Legolas’s relief. They had gone horseriding, swimming, and walking, and they’d talked much; mainly about the past, which, Haldir had noticed, Legolas was very melancholy about.

“But, Legolas,” Haldir had said, “don’t tell me you’d want to go back to that horrible time, when the world was dark and suffered under the threat of Mordor.”

“Well, no,” Legolas had said, “I wouldn’t want the Evil back, of course; but I miss the comraderie within the Fellowship. Those were terrible times, yes, full of darkness and danger; but there was also friendship, and that friendship was even more valuable because of the precarious situation we were in. Do you understand?”

Haldir nodded slowly. “I believe so.”

Legolas sighed. “And now Frodo’s gone, and Mithrandir and Boromir also. The other Hobbits live far away, and Aragorn is king. Gimli is the only one I still see on regular basis. I just miss it,” he concluded with a shrug. “Sometimes I wonder what’s left for me in Middle-earth.”

“Watch it, Legolas,” Haldir had said with a frown, “you are disturbingly beginning to sound like an Elf who’s about to leave Middle-earth and sail into the west.”

Maybe I am, Legolas had almost said, but he’d thought the better of it just in time. How could he explain to Haldir, who still was so appreciative of life’s beauty, what it was like to feel so empty inside? To be so weary that only the River flowing to the Sea seemed to offer absolution?

Legolas now silently watched his friend. Since that first day, Haldir hadn’t kissed him again or done anything that suggested feelings beyond mere friendship. They hadn’t even mentioned the kiss in their conversations, and it was almost as if it had never happened.

Legolas felt a little guilty about implying that Haldir’s friendship didn’t mean much to him – which wasn’t true, or course. Legolas held out his hand. Haldir tore his gaze from the River, then did the same, taking Legolas’s hand in his own. A look of slight surprise was in his eyes when he fused his gaze with Legolas’s. “Thank you, Haldir,” Legolas said.

“For what?”

“For being such a good friend.”

Haldir smiled. “No problem at all.” He softly squeezed Legolas’s hand. “Come, let’s get out of here.”

On their way back, they passed by a stand where an elderly woman had fish for sale. According to the sign, it was a Caras Gwedeir specialty: fish prepared and fried in butter, thyme and a dash of white wine. Her face was warm and flushed due to the warmth of the frying-pan and her apron was stained with fat. “Hallo, good sirs,” she called, as was befitting a saleswoman, “care to have a bite of this delicious dish? Melts on the tongue!”

Haldir looked at the pieces of fried fish with suspicion. Legolas caught the woman staring at Haldir, and he quickly explained Haldir’s apparent mistrust.

“My friend is not familiar with the custom of eating fish,” he said. “He is from Lórien and a guest here.”

“Ah,” she said, understanding now, “but even guests from Lórien should try this specialty at least once.” She scooped two pieces out of the frying-pan, distributed them over two paper napkins and handed them to the Elves. “On the house,” she said, winking at Haldir, “for you two handsome gentlemen to try.”

Haldir looked at the steaming piece of meat doubtfully. He then looked up and saw that Legolas had already started eating; his fingers and lips were a little greasy. “Come on, Haldir,” Legolas said, smiling, “don’t look so scared. It’s delicious.”

Haldir clumsily fingered his piece of fish fillet, almost let it drop, but finally succeeded in taking a bite. He started to chew and was actually beginning to like the taste, when the saleswoman said, “Be careful not to choke on possible fish-bones.” Haldir’s jaw stilled immediately; his expression of shock was so amusing that both Legolas and the woman burst out laughing.

“Relax, Haldir,” Legolas chuckled, licking his fingers, “it’s just a matter of chewing properly before you swallow.”

Haldir chewed extensively, fascinated by the sight of Legolas’s tongue lapping sensuously at his own fingers. He finally swallowed and grinned. “Better not make fun of me, Legolas, or I’ll smear your pretty face with this.” He raised one hand, showing his own greasy fingers.

Legolas made a funny face at him as he cleaned his fingers with the napkin, then drew it over his lips. “Well?” he asked Haldir, who was already munching on the rest of his portion. “How do you like it?”

“Not too bad,” Haldir said, then quickly covered his mouth with his hand.

“What good manners,” the saleswoman laughed. She seemed quite charmed by Haldir. Legolas amusedly eyed his friend for a moment before turning to the woman.

“One full portion for me and my friend, please,” he said, digging up some coins from his pocket, “to go.”

“Certainly, sir,” she said and she expertly prepared a full portion, “I’m glad to hear my merchandise pleases you.”

“Very much. Whose stand will I be recommending to all visitors from afar?”

“My name is Reina,” she said eagerly. She handed him the portion. “Here you go.”

“Thank you. I foresee a good sale for you, Reina, with the festival coming up. How much?”

“Six coppers, sir. A nice price,” she added.

“Absolutely.” He handed her a silverling. “The rest is for good service.”

“Thank you, lord,” she said, letting the coin slide into the pouch of her apron. She then gave Legolas two extra napkins. “Here,” she said to him with a nod at Haldir, who was still struggling to rid himself of all the fat clinging to him, “he’ll need it.”

Legolas winked quickly at her. “Thanks.”

He took Haldir by the arm. “Come, friend; let us continue our walk and enjoy this excellent meal.”

“I’m just about clean,” Haldir muttered, joining Legolas as he continued his path.

“Fine, then I’ll eat it all myself,” Legolas laughed.

“Hmm, forget what I said. Ooh, look at that one!” he said, pointing at a particularly big and tasty-looking piece.

“Hands off, that one’s mine.”

“Says who?”

“Me. ‘Tis only fair; I paid for it.”

They walked on, shoulder to shoulder, laughing and chattering like two elflings and soon covered in fat again.

~~~~~~~~~~

…the same evening, after sunset…

The door opened quickly, barely two seconds after he’d knocked, as if she’d been expecting him. He opened his mouth to greet her, but she glanced down the hallway, took him by the arm and pulled him inside, then quickly closed the door.

“Well, good evening to you, too, Merilin,” he said.

“My father must not see you here,” she said curtly.

Legolas looked around him. “Well? He’s not here, is he?”

“No, he’s downstairs; but he will come check on me before going to rest. He will not be happy to see you here, you know that.”

“Tell me, Meri,” Legolas said with a sigh, “if this is still such a big issue between your father and you, then why did you come here in the first place? Do you expect me to ignore you the whole time?”

“I didn’t have much of a choice,” she hissed. “He thought it would be a nice thing to do, asking his daughter to accompany him to the festival. I couldn’t possibly refuse, that would have been rather suspicious, wouldn’t it? Especially since all the girls back in Mirkwood were dying to go.”

“What does your father have against me?”

“He doesn’t have anything against you,” she said impatiently, “and you know that perfectly well. But, as you may recall, I am betrothed to another. My father arranged that when I was still a child.”

“That was never a problem before,” he said, holding her gaze.

“And he attaches much importance to me remaining… untouched until the day I marry,” she said.

Legolas couldn’t help smiling. “I repeat: that was never a problem before.”

Her eyes fell, and she blushed lightly. “Legolas…”

“Meri,” he said gently, “I didn’t come here to lure you into any illegal activities, I just thought a private talk would be nice.” He smiled. “After all, we haven’t seen each other in a long time. Can’t we do that? Just talk?” He saw her features soften. “Come, Meri; if my presence really bothered you, you would have slammed the door shut in my face,” he teased.

Her sense of humor finally overcame her doubts, and she smiled. “Smooth-talker,” she muttered. “Have it your way then. Sit down.”

They lowered themselves on the foot-end of the bed and faced each other. Legolas traced her familiar features with his eyes; seeing them was like a warm bath to him, but at the same time a painful reminder of his life before the War. She still had those expressive, blue-green eyes and that hint of deep dark red in her almost-black hair. He wanted to reach out and touch her face, but he suppressed that urge.

“Well?” he asked. “How have you been since we last met?”

“Nothing special, really,” she said with a shrug. “I think you have much more to talk about.”

“You’ve already heard most of it, I am sure,” he said.

“Yes, but not from you. Tell me. What happened after your father sent you out to Imladris with messages?”

So he briefly recounted what had befallen him after his departure from Mirkwood more than sixteen years before, leaving out the painful, more personal events. She listened attentively, and when he was done, she did something unexpected. She reached out and caressed the side of his face with her fingertips. He looked at her in surprise.

“You have seen so many terrible things,” she said softly. “So much death, so much hate. Is that why you have changed so much?”

“Have I changed?” he asked monotonuously.

“Yes.” She thoughtlessly fingered a strand of his hair. “You are not the Legolas I remember. You were always so in touch with things, with life; and now, even when you laugh, it’s like you are holding back. Why is that? What happened to you?”

He sighed. “I’d rather not discuss those things, Meri. I advise you not to try to analyze me, for you could go on analyzing for a millennium without getting closer to a conclusion.” He rubbed his hands over his eyes.

“You could always tell me everything,” she said gently, “remember? Whenever you had a disagreement with your father, or something else was bothering you… Will you not tell me what’s wrong now?”

“Not this time, Meri,” he said, smiling sadly, “not this time. I can’t discuss it with anyone, not even with you.” He took her hand and brought it to his lips for a quick kiss. “I’m sorry.”

She looked at him worriedly and it seemed she was about to say something, but she started when there was a knock on the door.

“Merilin? Are you awake?”

“My father!” she said under her breath. “Quick! Get under the bed!”

Legolas frowned. “But we’re just talking. Why would he mind that?”

“Do you really think he will believe that?” she retorted. “A man in a lady’s room after sunset, just talking? Now do as I say!”

“Merilin?” Her father again.

“Just a moment, adar [father],” she called, “I am not decent.” She removed the ribbon from her plait. As she quickly unbraided her hair, she hissed, “Get under the bed, Legolas. Now!”

He did as he was told, shaking his head and with a smirk on his face. When he’d disappeared from sight, Merilin opened the door. “Good evening, adar,” she said, “I was just getting ready for bed.”

Êreg smiled at her. “Good. I just came to check if you were all right. It was an exhausting journey.”

“I’m fine, just a little tired.” She produced a very convincing yawn and, to her annoyance, heard Legolas snicker softly in his hiding place.

“What was that? I thought I heard something.” Her father peered over her shoulder.

“Oh,” she said casually, “probably something from outside. I have opened the window; the weather is so mild here.”

“Indeed it is.” He smiled again. “Well, I’m going to bed too. Good night.”

“Sleep well, adar.”

He disappeared to his own room and Merilin closed and locked the door. She then turned back to the bed. “That was smart!” she said. “Can you think of a better way to give yourself away?”

“I’m sorry,” he chuckled, “but it was quite amusing. Is the coast clear?”

“Yes,” she sighed, “you can come out.”

He crawled out from under the bed. “I still think it’s ridiculous,” he muttered as he did so, “we were just having an innocent conversation. Nothing for him to worry about…” His voice trailed off when she dropped to her knees in front of him. She gave him a sorrowful look before taking his face between her hands and kissing him passionately. He was too stunned to react, but his lips parted on their own account, allowing her tongue to enter.

He instantly recognized the scent of her skin, the taste of her lips, the feel of her tongue… It had an unexpectedly strong effect on him; his heart seemed to burst, his blood rushed through his veins, screamed in his ears. He was overcome by a strange mix of feelings: despair, grief, desire… He had been sitting on all fours until now, but now he rose up on his knees, took her face in his hands and joined in the kiss, immediately taking over dominance.

She grabbed the collar of his tunic with both hands and rose to her feet, pulling him up with her. She then pushed him back against the bed and crawled on top of him, but he quickly reversed their positions, lying down on top of her. They kissed feverishly, almost desperately, hands pulling on clothing.

“Oh, Valar,” Merilin gasped between two kisses, “this is so wrong, and yet it feels so right.” She reached for the laces of his tunic and fumbled wildly with them He pulled back for a moment to catch his breath and watched her face as she impatiently opened his tunic.

“Remove that,” she demanded, “I want you naked.”

He sat up on his knees and peeled his tunic off his arms. “Meri, are you sure about this?” he asked, breathing quickly.

“I haven’t been so sure about anything in sixteen years,” she said. She trailed his chest with her fingertips, mapping the curves of his muscles and ribs. “Oh, Legolas,” she sighed, “sixteen years can be so long, even for an Elf, and yet it seems only yesterday that we last did this.” She paused her ministrations for a moment and looked up at him. “I’ve missed you beside me at night,” she said. “Did you miss me too sometimes?”

He smiled and quickly touched her lips. “Yes,” he said. Which was true. He had spent quite some time thinking of her after his departure, until finally he had caught himself thinking of someone else. It had been quite a shock for him.

Suddenly he realized that she was opening the fastenings of his trousers, and he tensed unconsciously. “Oh, gods,” he cried softly when she released his already stiffening member and took it into her hand, where it quickly came to full hardness. The sensation was incredible. He covered his eyes with his hands, but she reached out and gently pulled them away. “I want to see your eyes,” she said.

With great effort, he fused his gaze with hers. He underwent her ministrations trembling violently. He braced his hands upon his thighs and moaned as she expertly slid her hand up and down his length. “I am sorry,” she whispered, “I didn’t mean to rush things so, but there is no patience left in me after sixteen years. Do you think me bad?”

“No,” he moaned, slightly rocking his hips to match her rhythm, “I think you’re… ah, yes - I think you’re very, very good.”

She smiled. “Take off those boots, love, and the trousers also.”

He complied, stripping himself of his remaining clothes. “What about you?” he asked, fingering her dress, “are going to keep this on?”

“No.” She sat up and pulled her dress over her head, revealing the beauty of her body. His breath caught in his throat and he reached out for her, but she rolled away from him and eased herself under the sheet. “Come,” she said, holding up the sheet, encouraging him to join her. He complied, stretching himself half beside her, half on top of her. As they kissed, he let his hand explore her body, beginning at her neck, then rounding a shoulder before sliding down over a breast to her stomach. His erection pressed rock-hard against the soft skin of her upper leg. His hand continued its way down as their kiss deepened, sliding down her leg. He shifted, not breaking the kiss, and parted her legs with his knee. The skin of her inner thigh was smooth under his fingertips as they moved upwards.

She gasped against his lips when his fingers grazed at her opening. He looked at her, but she had her eyes closed. “Do you want this?” he murmured.

“Valar, yes,” she sighed. “Don’t you dare stop this now.”

One finger slipped inside, followed soon by another. Merilin moaned and lifted her hips as they moved within her. He could feel how ready she was for him.

“Meri,” he choked, “are you sure about this? We can’t go back to the way it was. I have nothing to offer you.”

“We never had a future together,” she said, “I have always known that; that’s why I always cherished every moment we shared.” She caressed the side of his face and looked at him, eyes glimmering. “This could be the last opportunity we have,” she said, “I’d never forgive myself if I let it pass.”

He only smiled sadly, not finding words to match the moment.

“And,” she added with a smile, “don’t think there is nothing you have to offer me.” With those words, she took hold of his erection again. He groaned and pushed against her. “Oh, Legolas, please,” she sighed, stroking him insistingly, “I need to feel that lovely rod of yours inside of me. Fill me with your desire, for I can’t wait any longer.”

“As you wish, my lady,” he gasped. He settled between her thighs, covering her body with his own. He pushed himself up on his hands and let his tongue teasingly flick in and out of her mouth as he slowly entered her. She was relaxed, familiar with him, and he sheathed himself to the hilt in one, smooth movement, causing her to moan in delight. Filling her completely, he kept still for a moment, taking his time to kiss her attentively. Her hands travelled restlessly over his shoulders and down his chest.

“Ah, you always were a tease, Legolas,” she said, momentarily breaking free from his lips.

“Shh, patience, Meri,” he murmured, “no need to hurry. I want you to memorize the feel of me, so that you’ll never forget me.”

She smiled. “I already memorized you years ago,” she said. “And no woman can possibly forget you once she’s shared a bed with you, Legolas.” She stroked his nipples, then teased them between thumb and forefinger, simultaneously clenching her muscles around him. He gasped and threw his head back, but kept the rest of his body still.

“Hmm,” she purred, “it seems you have mastered more self-control since our last time. You must have had lots of practise, you naughty Elf.”

He hesitated. “No.”

She laughed. “Liar.” She let go of his hard nipples and began stroking his sides and back. “Kiss me, gorgeous.”

He complied, bending down to kiss her again. As he teased her with his tongue, he started moving. Within seconds, he had rediscovered her preferences. He set a slow rhythm, pulling back and pushing himself in again, swiveling his hips as he did so, making sure he stroked her sensitive spot with every thrust. Moaning, she parted her thighs even further, lifting her knees for greater contact. Her fingers dug into his biceps.

“Oh, lover,” she sighed, slightly arching her back, “that is the best sensation imaginable. I wish it could last forever.”

That was an alluring thought. Legolas closed his eyes. To let this night last forever; no new day that would bring more responsibilities, more arriving guests, more hours of battling the Sea-longing in his heart. No old acquaintances to face, who would remind him of how it used to be; no pain. Only her arms to rest in and her affection to warm his heart at.

“Meri,” he whispered, not stopping his movements, “do you love me?”

This caught her by surprise. She slightly lifted her head and looked at him, her face slightly flushed and her lips parted. His sensible part cursed the other one for asking such a question, asking for love when he shouldn’t.

“Sorry,” he murmured, bending down to kiss her, “forget I said that.” To his relief, her kiss was warm and affectionate like before. He continued giving her slow, sensual kisses as he began to move faster, hearing her encouraging moans. Not longer able to support his own weight on stretched arms, he lowered himself to his elbows. She wrapped her arms around him.

“Yes, like that, honey,” she whispered against his lips, “oh, go faster.”

He increased his pace even more, thrusting into her quite hard. She arched beneath him, her fingers clawing in his back, damp with perspiration; she buried her face against his chest to stifle her cry when she reached her peak. Her muscles clenching rhythmically around him were the final straw; the warmth that had been gathering in his testicles suddenly broke forth and spurted into her.

“Oh, gods!” Legolas cried, thrusting into her as wave after wave of ecstasy engulfed him. Merilin quickly clapped one hand over his mouth.

“Ssh,” she hissed, giggling breathlessly, “my father sleeps in the next room.”

Legolas groaned, long and low. When he’d finally poured himself completely out inside of her, his arms gave way and he collapsed onto her. She pulled him close and affectionately bit his shoulder and neck. He lay still for a moment, trying to regain control over his breathing, in the meantime relishing the feeling of her naked body against his in this most intimate of positions.

Finally, he rolled off her and onto his back, lazily reaching for the sheets that had slid off him, and pulling them up to his waist. Merilin rolled onto her side and eased herself against him, one leg loosely thrown over his; he welcomed her, wrapping an arm around her. Her head fit perfectly in the hollow of his shoulder, and with the fingers of one hand she absent-mindedly traced his ribs.

“That tickles,” he said, smiling weakly.

She smiled too. They were silent for a long time, until Merilin at last hesitantly said, “Legolas…”

“Please don’t tell me to leave,” he said, a hint of plea in his voice.

“I don’t want you to,” she said softly, “but…”

“I’ll leave before sunrise.” He nuzzled against her scalp. “Your father will never know. Please, Meri.”

She took his free hand and intertwined her fingers with his. “All right then.”

He closed his eyes. “Thank you,” he sighed.

Another silence followed, which was finally broken by Merilin again. “Legolas, about that question you asked me…”

“I shouldn’t have asked that,” he said quickly. “Forget it, Meri.”

“No, I want you to know what my answer would be.” She paused. “I can’t afford to love you too much, Legolas,” she sighed. “Our lives are going in different directions and I don’t wish to die of a broken heart. But I’ll say this: if the choice rested with me alone, you would be the one I’d bind myself to.”

He gave no response; only smiled sadly and softly stroked her shoulder.

She rose slightly up and looked him in the eye. “You must promise me something, Legolas.”

“What?”

“Promise me not to fall in love with me. I will follow my father back to Mirkwood in a few days, and I don’t want to leave behind a broken-hearted Elf. Please, Legolas,” she begged, “promise me that.”

Oh, Meri, he thought, if only you knew that my heart has been on the verge of breaking for the past fifteen years. But he smiled at her, not wanting to make her feel his pain. “I promise.”

“Good.” She eased herself back into her former position. “Otherwise I would have really slammed the door shut in your face the next time you showed up here again.”

They made love several times before finally drifting off in elven reverie. The old memories failed to find Legolas as he slept in Merilin’s room, and he dreamed peacefully in her arms. In the next room, Merilin’s father dreamed of the stars over Mirkwood, unaware of the guest in his daughter’s bed.

~Part Four: Tell Me Where It Hurts~

Caras Gwedeir, May 8th and 9th, F.A. 13. (flashback to February 24th, T.A. 3019)

Legolas:

Gimli gave Legolas a meaningful glance as he came down for breakfast the following morning. He exchanged a few words with his friends and family from Erebor and Aglarond, and then came to Legolas and sat down next to him.

“Good morning, Gimli,” Legolas said casually, pouring himself a glass of water.

“Morning, Master Elf.” Gimli shoved some slices of bread onto his plate, buttered them lavishly and covered them with meat. Legolas observed it in mild disgust. The Dwarves’ partiality for meat, even so early in the morning, never failed to amaze him.

Gimli then leaned over to him. “I know of an Elf who wasn’t in his bed last night,” he said in a mischievous tone.

Legolas quickly glanced at Merilin and her father, sitting some meters away. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he said.

Gimli grinned. “Oh, not to worry, no one else knows and I will not tell anyone. Least of all,” he said, whispering, “her father.”

Legolas shook his head. He should know by now that Gimli’s mind was quicker than one would expect. “Honestly, Gimli, why can’t I ever keep a secret from you?”

“There are things about you I don’t know,” Gimli said, suddenly quite serious. “Believe me, Legolas, you’re very good at keeping secrets when you really want.”

Legolas decided to let that remark pass. Gimli looked at him, and the sparkle returned to his eyes. “’Twas about time, too, my friend.”

Legolas brought his cup to his lips. “Time for what?”

“You know…” Gimli quickly glanced right and left. “Time for some…fun…” He said, emphasizing the last word meaningfully.

Legolas almost choked on his drink. “Gimli!” He looked at his friend in shock. Gimli was feigning innocence, throwing him a questioning look. Legolas suddenly felt the corners of his mouth twitch and burst out laughing. Everyone sitting at the table looked up, wondering what had amused the prince so.

The Dwarf was laughing too.

“Ahem, Gimli,” Legolas chuckled, wiping tears from his face, “I don’t think I can discuss these things with you. Somehow it doesn’t seem… right to talk to you about this.”

“Good,” Gimli chortled, “I don’t want to hear about it.” He picked up one slice of bread and began to eat. Legolas, who was still chuckling softly, caught Merilin looking at him across the table. He winked at her and she smiled. They exchanged a look of understanding before breaking eye contact again.

It would be a long and tiring day. Even more guests came, and Legolas had a long meeting with his Council, concerning the last preparations for the festival. He then had a long conversation with Faramir, and with the masters of ceremonies. He hardly saw Gimli and Haldir that day. But being busy had its advantages; it distracted him from the knowledge that at that very moment, Aragorn and his delegation from Minas Tirith were on their way to the city.

That night, Legolas found himself restlessly pacing his room. Tomorrow, he thought. Tomorrow will I see Aragorn again. What am I going to do? How should I react?

Legolas felt utterly confused. One part of him hated Aragorn and wanted to shout at him, let out all that pent-up rage and grief; another part was just incredibly sad and wanted to be left alone; while a third part still felt so much love for that Man. Legolas sighed.

Then, a knock on the door. Legolas hesitated; he was not sure whether he wanted to be found tonight.

“Legolas?” Merilin’s voice.

He quickly opened the door. “Merilin, what are you doing here?” He hadn’t expected her. He had, for a moment, considered going to her room; but he was unsure about her reaction, and he didn’t want to run the risk of being spotted by her father.

She sneaked into the room, giggling. “You won’t believe what I did,” she said.

He locked the door and turned to face her. “What did you do?”

She wrapped her arms around his neck and looked up at him with a mischievous smile. “I bade my father goodnight, locked my door from inside and climbed out the window. And here I am.”

He smiled and slid his hands around her waist, interlacing his fingers behind her back. “And are you sure you will succeed in climbing back in before sunrise, without being seen?”

“Let’s worry about that later.” She let her lips graze against his. “Now, I want a reward.”

“Really?” He moved out of her reach when she would kiss him. “What would you desire as your reward?”

“Something simple,” she purred, sliding her hands over his shoulders, “a kiss, to start with… and then, some of the other pleasures your body can provide.”

“Some?” he smiled. “Why not all of them?”

“Even better. Now kiss me, you tease.”

He did that, and much more.

Much later, Legolas lay staring into the dark with Merilin in his arms. The sheets were a chaos, and they smelled faintly of sex and scented oil, which she had used to massage the tension out of him, among other things… Her breathing was calm and deep; she was resting. Legolas, however, had trouble finding rest. The night before, her embrace had given him solace, and careless sleep; now, the thought that Aragorn was sleeping somewhere under the stars not far from here, and that the moment of their meeting was only a few hours away, kept him from finding rest. And not even Merilin’s presence could change that.

After almost an hour of doing nothing except brooding, Legolas quietly slipped out of the bed. He gently draped the sheets over Merilin’s sleeping form and then dressed himself in black leggings and a simple white tunic and green jerkin. After a last glance at her, he left, silently closing the door behind him.

Haldir:

Haldir had retreated to his room, but there found himself unable to sleep. He had spent the evening talking to people from all over Middle-earth, he was in a cheerful mood and felt excited about the upcoming festival. He stood in front on the window and looked outside, at the pitch-black sky and the stars, hundreds of them. In the distance, he could see the River, faintly glimmering in the moonlight.

He would go for a walk. A little walk to the River and back. Yes, that would be very pleasant. He went through his belongings and found the cloak he’d brought from Lórien, that had accompanied him on all of his travels. He slung it over his shoulders and fastened it about his neck, then went out.

He crossed the now quiet streets of the city, making for the city gates. There was only one guard on watch, and he let Haldir pass when he recognized the Lórien Elf. Haldir walked for about ten minutes along the Anduin, enjoying the fresh night air and the play of the stars’ reflections in the water.

He reached the place where he and Legolas had had their wild ride in the River. He smiled to himself at the recollection. He made for a small group of willows on the shore and sat down beneath one of them, leaning back against the stem. He stretched out his legs and sighed.

He remembered how the dullness of Legolas’s eyes had startled him that day, a month and a half ago. The same night, he had offered Legolas a sympathetic ear, but so far, Legolas hadn’t given any direct explanation of his apparent unhappiness. But Haldir was a very skilled at reading between the lines, and after some observation and putting two and two together, Haldir thought he had a fairly good idea of what was going on.

Something had happened to Legolas, and it had happened after the Fellowship’s departure from Lórien. Haldir could easily picture the Legolas he’d seen in Lórien: saddened of course by Gandalf’s death, but still so full of hope, and light. So different from the Legolas he’d become. He still had moments of joy, yes; but they were short-lived.

Haldir suspected that Elessar had something to do with it. Legolas had reacted so strangely when Haldir had mentioned his name. And he’d get that strange nervousness over him every time Elessar’s coming to Caras Gwedeir was subject of discussion.

Haldir knew that Legolas and Elessar had once been good friends. In Lórien, he’d even got the impression that there was something more between them. They seemed to glow in each other’s presence, and the glances they threw each other were suspiciously intense. Haldir had been surprised, for he knew Aragorn’s devotion to his Arwen, and Legolas was not the type to interfere in relationships. Haldir had asked him one or two indirect questions, but Legolas had refused the bait.

A rupture had taken place between the two friends. As far as Haldir knew, the two of them had not once been in contact after the War. Very peculiar, considering how close they once had been. Something had happened, Haldir knew that for a certainty. He had no idea whether his suspicions about Legolas and Elessar were correct, and what exactly the reason for their alienation was, but fact was that neither Legolas nor Elessar had ever taken the trouble of making the two-day journey to the other’s dwelling-place.

Haldir sighed again. He hated to see Legolas so. He could tell the Elf was quickly tiring of his life, and he feared that unless something happened soon, he would lose his friend to the Undying Lands.

You could go with him, Haldir thought for the thousandth time. But he shook his head; no, he was not ready yet. The Sea did not call to him that strongly, and there was still so much beauty to see in Middle-earth. Then again: Middle-earth would lose its most beautiful element on the day of Legolas’s departure. Haldir rubbed his hands over his eyes. His deepest wish was that Legolas would find joy again, and remain in Middle-earth, not longer hearing the Call. But that was impossible. Once the Sea-longing has been stirred in an Elf, it will never disappear again. It can lessen, yes; but disappear, no.

Perhaps Elessar’s arrival would prove to be just what Legolas needed. Perhaps they could sort out their problem, whatever it was. Haldir dared to hope. Perhaps Elessar was the one who could bring that light back to Legolas’s eyes… for good.

Suddenly, Haldir realized that he wasn’t alone anymore. He had been too absorbed in his thoughts to hear the other arrive, but a movement in the corner of his eye brought him back to reality.

Legolas. Apparently his friend had felt like a walk, too. The Elf was standing on the shore, staring over the water, to the south. He was unaware of Haldir’s presence, Haldir realized; the shadow of the willow and his cloak from Lórien hid him quite well, even from Legolas’s keen eyes. And Legolas, too, seemed absorbed in thoughts. He stood perfectly still, upright, his slender frame covered in black leggings, white tunic and green jerkin.

Haldir wondered if he should make his presence known. He’d rather not startle or disturb his friend, for Legolas was obviously seeking solitude, but the idea of skulking in the shadows and waiting for Legolas to depart did not hold appeal either. He was still considering this when suddenly a soft, clear voice reached his ears.

Legolas was singing. This struck a deep chord inside Haldir; when they were younger, they had sung many songs together, most of them silly and full of nonsense, but in the past weeks, it had become clear to Haldir that Legolas had lost his lust for singing. And now there he stood, on his own, his gaze fused on the Undying Lands beyond the horizon: singing. But it was not the kind of song he would have sung with Haldir; the melody was beautiful, but sad, and unfamiliar to Haldir. As he listened, unmoving in his hiding-place, he understood that Legolas had invented the lyrics himself, and the melody probably as well. Much became clear to him during those moments, and he felt a terrible sadness rise within him, intensifying with every verse that came from Legolas’s lips.

This was what Legolas sang, fluently but sorrowfully:

“Anduin, Anduin, what do you see

As you run your eternal course to the Sea?

Anduin, Anduin, can you remember still

The wind that sweeps over the northern hills?

Have you passed the woods I know so well,

Mirkwood that bore me, where my people still dwell?

Did you hear them, River, did you hear them singing,

Their voices so clear, like silver bells ringing?

Did you see the trees of Lórien on your way,

Their leaves golden, their bark smooth and grey?

Do you remember when I set out from that land?

Did you hear my heart sing out my love for the Man?

Did you hear the hooves of horses in Rohan,

On the meadows green where the Three Hunters ran?

Did you see Parth Galen, where our Company sundered?

Did you cross Emyn Muil, where his love for me ended?

Did you see Minas Tirith, where he now lives as king?

Does his heart still recall the love of which I sing?

Do you know, oh River that flows to the Sea,

Whether he sometimes still thinks of me?

Anduin, don’t you have some wise words for me?

Shall I linger on your shore, or sail to the Sea?

My heart longs to stay and my heart longs to go west.

I am weary, River, can you help me find rest?”

The song ended, and still Legolas stood there, unmoving, a picture of ethereal beauty. But it was beauty edged with a heartbreaking sadness. Haldir sat trembling in the shadows, a thousand imaginary daggers stabbing his heart. With every nerve that was in his body, he could sense Legolas’s heartfelt melancholy, his longing for the past and his homeland. And as for the cause of that melancholy, Haldir now understood that much better, too. For Legolas had been in love back then, perhaps still was… and for a short period of time, he’d seen that love returned. But that time was now long gone, and Legolas was left with nothing but memories. Haldir did not know how things between Legolas and Elessar had come to an end, but judging by the pain it apparently still gave Legolas, it had been traumatizing.

Haldir’s heart bled for Legolas, and all he wanted to do at that moment was to comfort the hurting Elf. Suddenly, Haldir’s instinct took over from his common sense, and he rose to his feet, revealing himself. Legolas must have caught the movement, for he spun on his heels. When he saw Haldir standing there, he immediately understood that Haldir had overheard him, and he went ivory-pale. “Haldir,” he said, sounding strangled, “what are you doing here?”

“I am sorry, Legolas,” Haldir replied, “I did not mean to spy on you. I took a walk before going to bed and was sitting here for a moment, when you came. It was not my intention to eavesdrop, but I just could not disturb you. I – I am sorry.”

Legolas looked very tired suddenly. “It’s all right, Haldir. It was my own fault. I guess you were bound to find out sooner or later.” He turned back to the River, his shoulders uncharacteristically slumped.

Haldir went to him. He hesitantly placed a hand on Legolas’s shoulder. “Oh, Legolas…” he sighed. “What happened, my friend?”

Legolas shrugged. “You have heard what happened.” He dared not look at Haldir, embarrassed by the fact that Haldir had heard him sing about the matters of his heart, about love.

“Won’t you tell me more?” Haldir gently took Legolas by the shoulders and turned him so that they faced each other. “We are friends, aren’t we?”

Legolas nodded. “Yes, Haldir.”

“Then please tell me.” Haldir’s sympathetic green-grey eyes rested on Legolas’s blue ones. “Do you have any idea how much it hurts me to see you in such pain, Legolas? Let me help you. Please.”

“There is nothing you can do. Aragorn will arrive tomorrow, and I will have to face him; you can’t help me with that.”

“Indeed. But give me the opportunity to talk some courage into you. I would support you in every way possible. And perhaps your heart will be better able to carry this burden if you don’t have to deal with this alone anymore.”

“I – I…” Legolas stammered.

“Do you trust me, Legolas?”

“Yes,” Legolas said, “implicitly.”

“Then confide in me. If you can’t tell me, then who? And no Elf, Man or any being should have to carry such a burden on his own.”

“I – I don’t know, Haldir,” Legolas said desperately, “it’s so humiliating. I’m not sure if… I – I’m just not sure,” he ended miserably.

“Are you afraid I’ll laugh at you? You should know that I wouldn’t do that.”

“No, I’m not afraid you’ll laugh at me.”

“Then what are you afraid of?”

“I’m afraid that…” Legolas looked away. “…that you’ll be disgusted with me.”

This was unexpected. “What?” Haldir gently caught Legolas’s chin between his fingers and forced him to look at him. “Legolas, sweetheart, how could you possibly disgust me? How could you possibly disgust anyone?” He smiled a little. “You could tell me you bed Orcs on a daily basis and still I wouldn’t be disgusted.”

Legolas let out a strange sound. It took a few seconds until Haldir understood that it had been a sob mixed with laughter. He let go of Legolas’s chin and waited until Legolas had regained his composure.

“How do you do that, Haldir?” Legolas asked, wiping away tears. “No matter how bad I feel, you manage to make me laugh.”

“It’s a talent,” Haldir said. He took Legolas by the arms again. “Now, I am not so easily disgusted, Legolas, especially not when it comes to you. Please tell me what happened, tell me why you are hurting so. You have been struggling with this far too long. Open up to me.”

Legolas sighed. “Let’s sit down for a moment.”

They sat down together on the river bank, side by side. Legolas sat cross-legged, his hands in his lap. He knitted his brow; apparently he was wondering how to begin. Haldir waited patiently. Finally, Legolas opened his mouth and began.

Legolas:

Nothing had indicated that something was brewing between him and Aragorn. Yes, Legolas admired his friend: his bravery, his skill with the sword, the way he devoted himself fully to the Quest and the safety of the Ring-bearer. And of course, Legolas was appreciative of the Ranger’s outward beauty: the Man was attractive, in a different way. But Legolas could also see the beauty of Aragorn’s soul.

Legolas couldn’t help admiring the way Aragorn immediately took up his role as new leader after Gandalf had fallen. The Hobbits were crying, Boromir was restraining Gimli, who was overcome with grief and anger and would have run back into the Mines if it hadn’t been for Boromir; and Legolas himself had been too stunned, too grief-struck to do anything. And Aragorn, doubtlessly just as agrieved as the others or even more, wiped his sword clean.

“Legolas, get them up.”

Legolas, despite the sadness of the moment, had understood that the Man was right. Gandalf would have been furious if he’d seen the Fellowship sit down and cry just outside the Mines, with an army of Orcs breathing down their necks. So he’d obeyed; after all, he’d followed Gandalf when he was leader, now he would follow Aragorn, without hesitation.

And then… Lothlórien. That enchanting place where the Fellowship had finally found some rest, after much toil. Where Legolas had found an old friend in Haldir, a new friend in Gimli, and, quite unexpectedly, a lover in Aragorn. Legolas was not sure what exactly had led them in each other’s arms; he himself had longed for comfort, for more comfort than Haldir’s kind words could provide. And as for Aragorn… the Man needed comfort, too. Someone to tell him he would be just as good a leader as Gandalf had been. But that still didn’t explain why it had turned into something sexual. It just had, and Legolas had since long stopped wondering why.

They had never really slept together; they had restricted themselves to passionate kissing and pleasuring each other with their hands and mouths. Legolas had felt instinctively that Aragorn wasn’t ready for more, that the Man had Arwen in the back of his head, and Legolas accepted that. It had set his own guilty conscience somewhat at ease, too, for he felt guilty towards Arwen.

Their attraction to one another had caught them both by surprise, and in the beginning, every round of clandestine pleasure had ended in burning cheeks, clothes hastily being rearranged and promises not to do that again. But the attraction had been too great, and soon, they felt more at ease with each other. They began taking their time for their pleasure, every time they could get away from the Company.

Aragorn had proved to be both a resourceful and a tender lover. He had given Legolas some of the happiest hours of his long life, and by the time they set out from Lórien, Legolas knew he loved Aragorn, in the deepest sense of the word. Of course, he was always aware of the fact that they had no future together; Aragorn was to wed Arwen and become king. Legolas did not fit in that picture, and he knew it. But he cherished the stolen moments they had together.

For Legolas, it had been more than just diversion, more than just sex. And when Aragorn kissed him so attentively and tenderly, it was easy to imagine that the Man felt the same for him. But after they’d set out from Lórien, Legolas more and more got the impression that Aragorn was holding back. Of course, the Man’s main worry was the Quest, the responsibility weighed heavy on his shoulders; but it was more than that. Was the Man thinking of his betrothed? Did he regret his dalliances with Legolas? Was it over now?

Those had been long days on the River, full of doubt and uncertainty. They had some private moments during the first days, but they quickly grew less frequent and then stopped alltogether. Legolas saw how Aragorn struggled with his responsibility as leader and wanted to comfort him, help him… but almost every time Legolas’s eyes begged Aragorn for a private moment, the Man shook his head in a silent ‘no’, thus also denying Legolas the opportunity to ask for an explanation. Legolas knew he had not the right to ask the Man for his love, and he would not; but if Aragorn meant to end their affair, then he’d rather hear it directly from the Man’s lips, than be ignored like this.

And then the Company was taken by surprise by the rapids of Sarn Gebir, for which Aragorn, of course, blamed himself. On top of that, they were spotted by Orcs, who started firing arrows at them. One arrow pierced the hood of Aragorn’s cloak, and for a moment, Legolas’s heart stopped beating. But the Man was unharmed and led the Company to safety, to land, where they spent the night.

The next day, Aragorn decided that he and Legolas would go forward along the shore, to find some way by which the Company could carry the boats and their belongings to the calmer water beyond the rapids. Together they climbed the steep bank and went southwards along the shore. Now that Legolas was finally alone with Aragorn, he was unsure what to say. Aragorn was so concentrated on finding a track, on the Fellowship’s best interest, that Legolas’s worries suddenly seemed trivial.

And then they had found a track leading to a landing, from where on they would be able to continue their journey by boat. Their relief had cleared the sky for a moment; they had smiled at each other, and a light had returned to Aragorn’s eyes, a light which Legolas had seen when they were together in Lórien.

Before Legolas knew what was happening, the Man had pulled him into his arms. Legolas held his breath as Aragorn brushed the back of his hand over his cheek. “Aragorn…” he sighed, drowning in the Man’s intense blue-grey eyes. He instantly felt weak in the knees under Aragorn’s gaze. Did the Ranger still have feelings for him, after all?

“Legolas,” Aragorn murmured, cupping Legolas’s face and running his thumbs over the Elf’s lips. Legolas’s heart swelled at this caress, and at hearing Aragorn speak his name in that sensual, low-timbered voice of his. “Let me kiss your sweet mouth,” the Man said.

Without waiting for a reply, Aragorn leaned in and kissed him passionately. The Man’s directness took Legolas by surprise; where now was the detached Aragorn of the past days? This was the passionate lover he’d come to know in Lórien. With one notable difference: this lover lacked the tenderness so generously bestowed upon Legolas in Galadriel’s realm. Aragorn’s kiss was like an invasion; but after all those days of doubt and longing, Legolas was content with this. He braced his hands upon Aragorn’s hips and kissed him back.

Their tongues battled for a moment, both unwilling to play the submissive role, a battle that Aragorn won in the end. He plunged deep, his tongue swirling, retreating and entering again. Aragorn’s fingers were digging into Legolas’s cheeks and neck, but Legolas barely noticed the discomfort. All that mattered was the sensation of the Man’s tongue laying claim on his mouth, and the scent of leather and tobacco which Legolas had grown to love.

Aragorn leaned in very close, and the bulge of his erection brushed against Legolas’s leg. Legolas would have gasped if his mouth had been free, but Aragorn did not allow for their kiss to end. He kept kissing Legolas, hard and possessively, and the thought crossed Legolas’s mind that Aragorn was almost making love to him with his tongue.

Finally, Aragorn pulled back, his lips wet and flushed; Legolas guessed that his own probably looked the same. The intensity of the kiss left them both gasping for breath.

Legolas expected Aragorn something to say then, but the Man remained silent as he dropped to his knees, pulling Legolas with him. He reached out, grabbed Legolas between his legs and squeezed him, causing Legolas to gasp in surprise and lust. He unconsciously swiveled his hips, pushing his groin against Aragorn’s hand. The Elf was overcome with an almost shameful desire for this Man, and at that point, he would have willingly and without hesitation spread his legs for Aragorn, if the Man had chosen to penetrate him.

But that was not the case. Aragorn hastily removed Legolas’s bow and quiver, then made the Elf lie down and yanked his leggings down his legs. He then took him into his mouth without further introduction. Legolas cried out his delight and arched his back when warm wetness engulfed his member. Like before, the Man was merciless; there was no time for teasing, for tenderness. Aragorn took him firmly, and as deep as he could; then started to move up and down in a hard and demanding manner.

Legolas felt a flash of unease at that point, for the first time. Wasn’t this all going a bit too fast? He wasn’t sure if he felt comfortable being ravished thus by the man he secretly loved. He had hoped for a little more tenderness, perhaps some words of love, or care… but none of that. He had hoped that some intimacy between them would take his uncertainty away, but this merely added to it.

Aragorn suddenly pulled back, his breathing quick. His eyes flamed with lust. He crawled back, further shoving Legolas’s leggings down and removing them completely, together with Legolas’s boots. Before Legolas had had the time to wonder what Aragorn was up to, the Man pushed Legolas’s knees apart and knelt between the Elf’s legs. He hooked one hand in the hollow of Legolas’s left knee and pushed it upwards to the side, thus spreading Legolas’s legs even wider.

Legolas had never felt so exposed before. It was slightly uncomfortable, but most of all, it was arousing. To lie there on the forest floor, half-naked, his legs wide apart and all his intimate parts exposed to Aragorn’s gaze, who had him at his mercy; Legolas shuddered in anticipation.

Aragorn bent down and swallowed him again, less demanding this time. His strong hands kept Legolas’s legs in place as he moved up and down, his tongue swirling. Aragorn varied his pace, sometimes suckling gently, sometimes sucking hard, causing Legolas to moan in delight.

Legolas lay with his arms spread wide, his fingers digging into the soil. Aragorn was surprisingly good at this. Most of the tricks he was using he had learned from Legolas himself, for Legolas was the first male he’d become intimate with and he’d needed instruction. Legolas had willingly given him a few lessons…

Aragorn now also pushed Legolas’s other leg up. Legolas slightly lifted his head and watched how Aragorn’s head moved rhythmically between his thighs. Transfixed, he watched his own penis, shiny and wet with Aragorn’s saliva, disappearing all the way into the Man’s mouth, then reappearing. The sight in itself almost undid him. When Aragorn did a particularly delicious move with his tongue, Legolas threw his head back against the ground. “Ah gods, Aragorn,” he cried, “yes, that feels good! Oh Valar, I love you.”

That had not been a smart move. Up until now, they’d never mentioned the L-word. Legolas had been very close a couple of times, but he’d always restrained himself. He was not supposed to love Aragorn, and he had thought it best not to let the Man know what he felt for him. But now, he’d let the words slip, at a> very inappropriate moment.

Aragorn let Legolas’s shaft slip from his mouth. He let go of Legolas’s legs and crawled forward, until he knelt astride Legolas’s chest. He silently unbuckled his belt and began opening the fastenings of his trousers. Legolas watched wide-eyed as Aragorn shoved the fabric down his thighs, as far as his spread legs allowed him. The Man’s impressive erection sprang free, and Legolas eyed it with admiration, but also with a vague, inexplicable sense of dread.

“Stroke yourself, Legolas,” Aragorn demanded.

Legolas looked up at him in alarm. “What?”

Aragorn took Legolas’s hand and brought it to the Elf’s erection. “Stroke yourself.”

Legolas did not like the direction in which this was going. He’d never gone so far as to pleasure himself with Aragorn watching, and he was not sure if this was the right time and place to do it. “I, er…”

Aragorn folded Legolas’s hand around his shaft and covered it with his own. “Like this,” he said, starting to move up and down, encouraging. His hand fell away, and Legolas hesitantly continued to stroke himself. Aragorn shifted, braced one hand on the back of Legolas’s head, grabbing a fistful of hair, and pushed his hips forward.

Legolas automatically opened his mouth to receive him, intending to take only the tip to start with, but the Man had other plans. He let out a throaty groan and pushed himself all the way in, tightening his hold on Legolas’s head when the Elf would pull back instinctively. He sheathed himself fully until his cock pressed against the back of Legolas’s throat. This was too brutal an invasion, and it made Legolas gag. He sought eye contact, but Aragorn was staring into the distance with a dazed look in his eyes. He pulled back, and Legolas almost sighed in relief, but then Aragorn rammed forward again, groaning in ecstasy. Legolas let out a muffled cry and struggled to break free again; unfortunately, Aragorn seemed to think that Legolas’s movements were meant to pleasure him, for he began moving faster.

No, Legolas suddenly decided, this was wrong. He didn’t know what had gotten into the Man, but this was not the Aragorn he knew. Legolas could not help thinking that Aragorn was using him as some sort of instrument for his pleasure. It felt wrong, and he did not want this.

Legolas grabbed Aragorn’s hips and pushed hard, at the same time trying to escape the Man’s grip on his hair. Aragorn seemed to come out of his daze a little; he looked down, felt Legolas’s hands pushing forcefully against his hips and saw that Legolas was wriggling out from under him.

“Where are you going?” he cried. “Finish what you started!”

“I started nothing, Aragorn,” Legolas said, “it was you who started it.”

“What are you talking about?” Aragorn said irritably. He reached out to grab Legolas’s hair again.

“Stop it, Aragorn!” Legolas exclaimed, catching Aragorn’s wrist. “What’s gotten into you? Why are you like this?”

“Like what?” Aragorn said gruffly. “I could say the same about you. You’ve never denied us our pleasure before.”

“This is not pleasure,” Legolas retorted, “this is pain.”

Aragorn opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came. For a moment, Legolas thought the Man’s eyes were glimmering with emotion, but then he blinked and it was gone.

“I’m sorry if I caused you pain,” he said, a bit stiffly, “let’s finish it the way you want, then.”

“No.” Legolas grabbed his leggings and began putting them on. “I’ve lost my appetite.”

There was a flash of anger in Aragorn’s eyes, but he remained silent as he stood and yanked his trousers back up, over his protesting, rock-hard member. They both rearranged their clothes silently. It was the most uncomfortable silence Legolas had ever experienced. As soon as Aragorn was done with the fastenings of his trousers, he picked up his belt with Andúril and buckled it around his waist. He then turned on his heels and started to stride back to camp.

“Aragorn, wait!” Legolas finished his last boot, scrambled to his feet and grabbled his bow and quiver together. He quickly strapped them on his back and ran after the Man. “Wait, Aragorn,” he said, catching up with him, “we can’t go back yet. We must talk.”

“No, we’ve already lingered here too long. We must get back to the others.”

Legolas placed one hand on Aragorn’s shoulder. “Aragorn…”

Aragorn shook the hand off. “Leave me!” he hissed. “I’m supposed to be the leader of the group, and as the leader I’m telling you that we’re going back.”

Legolas felt anger rise within him, too. “This won’t do at all!” he said. “We are not just members of the Fellowship, we are friends. Talk to me.” He sprang in front of Aragorn, blocking the Man’s path and taking him by the shoulders. “Talk to me, Aragorn.”

“Get out of my way, Elf!” Aragorn spat, his eyes flaming. “And stay out of my way! You disgust me!”

That went straight to the core of Legolas’s soul. His hands fell from Aragorn’s shoulders and he did a step back, staring at Aragorn as though at a stranger. He breathed quickly, both with grief and anger. The urge was great to pounce on the man, shake him and ask him what in the name of the Valar he was thinking to say such a thing; but that would have solved nothing. It would only have made things worse. So when Aragorn walked past him, towards camp, Legolas did not stop him. The Elf watched him go, trembling. He felt dirty, humiliated, and utterly miserable.

“Are you coming or not?” Aragorn called, not looking back. “It will be a bit suspicious if we don’t return together, don’t you think?”

Legolas clenched his fists, but he had no choice but to follow the Man. Back to their companions, to tell them the good news…

~Part Five: Everything Old Is New Again~

Caras Gwedeir, May 9th, F.A. 13.

Haldir:

Legolas fell silent, and Haldir looked up. Legolas was thoughtlessly fingering a blade of grass, avoiding Haldir’s gaze. He felt clearly embarrassed.

“And what happened next?” Haldir asked softly. “Does this remain unsolved until today?”

Legolas nodded. “I tried to discuss it with him, several times… but he wouldn’t talk to me. And soon, we were too absorbed by more important matters to linger on this subject. And it all happened so quickly then; Aragorn was crowned king, got married… our argument seemed almost forgotten. In the end, we were able to be polite again, but never more than that. Our roads parted, and I have to admit, for a little while I was glad to be away from him.”

“But…?”

“But later on, I found myself thinking about him all the time. The memory of that day still haunts me. I find myself wondering if I could have done something to prevent it from happening, I ask myself over and over again how things came to be like this.” He laughed, but it was joyless laughter. “Would you believe it? He lives two days from here, I rule a part of his kingdom for him; but I haven’t seen him in fifteen years! Perhaps all of this would be behind us now if I had had the courage to go to him years ago.”

“But he didn’t come either,” Haldir said.

Legolas shook his head and sighed. “No. The fact that he never contacted me has not been encouraging. Probably he still hasn’t forgiven me.”

“Forgiven you what?” Haldir wrapped one arm around Legolas’s shoulder. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Legolas. Of what can he possibly accuse you?”

Legolas shrugged. “I don’t know. Luring him into my bed while he was betrothed to another. Denying him his pleasure that day in the forest. Whatever I did that disgusted him.”

Haldir smiled a little and squeezed Legolas’s shoulder. “Don’t tell me you believe what he said, Legolas.”

“At first I didn’t. But days, weeks, months passed and still he acted as if he despised me. I started believing it. Oh, I just don’t know what to believe anymore!” he exclaimed.

“Legolas,” Haldir said gently, “listen to me. He had no right to despise you, and if there is one who should apologize, it’s him. That day in the forest, you told him you loved him, and yet he turned you down in a very brutal manner; he, who has been raised by Elves and knows like no other Man how deep an Elf’s love can be and what a broken heart can do to people of our kind. I don’t know what his motives were to treat you so, but he owes you an explanation.” Haldir paused. “He will arrive tomorrow. Seize that opportunity to sort things out with him. Perhaps he wants this to be over, too. It’s a good sign that he has decided to come himself, isn’t it? He could have stayed away.”

“I’m not looking forward to it.”

“I can imagine. But you can’t go on living like this forever, Legolas. Listen,” Haldir said, taking Legolas’s hand, “I will be there for you, if you need me. Understood?”

Legolas smiled, and for the first time looked his friend in the eye. “Yes. Thank you, Haldir.”

They were silent for a moment. Haldir broke the silence. “Tell me something, Legolas; Elessar hurt you that day, but he did not break your heart, for you still live. Yet you said that you loved him. How is it possible that you’re still here?”

Legolas nodded. “Firstly, I had always been aware of the fact that he and I would never really be together, so him turning me down didn’t really come as a surprise. It was the suddenness and the way in which it happened that hurt me the most. And secondly, as I said, we were absorbed by other things. The Quest was the most important thing, and I devoted myself to it; it helped me forget my heartache a little. After the War, the pain in my heart had lessened somewhat, but it never disappeared completely. It’s still here.” He placed his hand over his heart. “I am aware of it almost every moment of the day.”

Haldir nodded sadly, understanding now where the dullness in Legolas’s eyes came from. “And your hope that someday things will be solved between Elessar and you keeps you in Middle-earth, Legolas?”

“Perhaps. Some days, the call is so strong that I almost give in; but I am hesitant to leave Middle-earth without having said goodbye to him.”

“Perhaps all will be well tomorrow,” Haldir said. “Perhaps your friendship will be renewed and then it will be easier for you to stay.”

Legolas smiled. “Yes,” he said, “perhaps.”

“Do you still love him?”

Legolas looked up. “A part of me does. A part of me always will.”

“And the other part?”

“The other part knows that hoping will be in vain. That part is weary and wants to love again, trust again.”

“Who then?”

“I don’t know. Someone who can return my love. For I have had my share of unreturned affection.” Legolas laughed softly, a genuine laugh this time.

They had not noticed how quickly time had passed. Several hours had gone by during their conversation, and the sky was already growing lighter. Soon, the sun would rise above the horizon.

“What is it between you and that beauty from Mirkwood, Merilin?” Haldir asked. “Is she the one to make you happy?”

“We used to be… intimate before I left to fight in the War,” Legolas said with a smile. “She is betrothed to another.”

“You are unlucky, my friend,” Haldir said sympathetically.

Legolas put a hand on Haldir’s shoulder. “I am glad I finally told you, Haldir,” he said. “I feel better already, now that I know that you’ll support me.”

“Good,” Haldir smiled, “I’m glad too.”

Legolas suddenly clapped a hand over his mouth. “Uh-oh,” he said, wide-eyed.

“What?” Haldir asked. “What is it?”

“Merilin,” Legolas replied.

“What about her?”

Legolas sprang to his feet, pulling Haldir with him. “I left her in my bed when I went out for a walk. She must be back in her room before sunrise.”

Haldir looked puzzled. “Why?”

“Her father must not know that she was in my room tonight.”

“Why not?”

Legolas sighed. “Do I have to spell it out for you? As I said, she is betrothed to another, and she’s not supposed to bed anyone before her marriage.”

One of the corners of Haldir’s mouth curled upwards in an impish grin. “A-ha,” he said. “I see…”

“Come on.” Legolas pulled on Haldir’s sleeve. “We must get her back as soon as possible.”

Together they ran back to the city. “I hope we’re not too late,” Legolas said.

“Oh, don’t fret,” Haldir said, running beside him, “we’ll figure something out.”

They passed a few guards, bewildered by this unceremonial display from the city’s Elven-lord, and sprinted down the main street. “Wait,” Legolas said suddenly, coming to a full stop and grabbing the hood of Haldir’s cloak, almost choking him. “Let’s take that alley.” He immediately set off to the right. “It’s shorter,” he called over his shoulder.

Haldir followed him, coughing and feeling his throat. “Tell me, Legolas,” he called from behind, “she may succeed in fooling her father, but her future husband will definitely know that she’s not untouched. How is she going to handle that?”

“I don’t know how, but she will handle it.” Legolas smiled as he ran. “She’s like that.”

Together they entered the palace. Servants were up and busy already, and watched in surprise how their prince and his friend sprinted through the hall. Not much later, they arrived at Legolas’s chambers. They were about to burst into the room, when Haldir suddenly grabbed Legolas’s arm and stopped him. “Wait,” he said, “we can’t go running in just like that. We’re dealing with a lady here.”

Legolas stared at him for a moment, panting. Then, he nodded. “You’re right,” he said, “you’re right.” They quickly adjusted their clothing and Legolas knocked softly on the door. No response. Nothing could be heard from inside. Legolas looked at Haldir, who shrugged his shoulders. Legolas softly opened the door ajar and peered inside. “Meri!” he called softly.

Over Legolas’s shoulder, Haldir caught a glimpse of the dark-haired beauty, who was lying in Legolas’s bed and quickly rose up on her elbow. She protectively pulled the sheets up to her chin when she saw the two Elves standing outside. Haldir politely averted his eyes.

“Quick, love,” Legolas said, “get dressed. You must get back to your room.”

She was suddenly completely awake, covering her mouth with her hand when she realized that it was almost sunrise and that she was still in Legolas’s room. Legolas closed the door and leaned back against the wall beside Haldir, their arms folded. Legolas cast a sidelong glance at his friend. “Oh, stop smirking,” he said, feigning irritation. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing,” Haldir snickered.

Not even two minutes later, Merilin appeared from inside, fully dressed. Haldir caught the meaningful glance she and Legolas exchanged, a glance that spoke volumes. A glance between two people who’d spent the night together and shared the most intimate of things; a glance between lovers. This stirred something inside Haldir, an emotion that very much resembled excitement.

The three of them set off together, hurrying along the corridor. “What is going to happen now?” Haldir wanted to know.

“I must get outside,” Merilin replied, “to the courtyard, and then climb into my room through the window. The door is locked from inside so I can’t go through the door.”

As they walked down the hallways, they encountered some servants, some Dwarves, but none of them seemed surprised to see the daughter of King Thranduil’s counsellor in the company of two males before sunrise.

“It’s looking good,” Haldir said.

“Not so hasty,” Legolas said, and he halted, raising a hand. The others stopped, too, and listened. From around the corner came voices. Elves. Judging by their conversation, they were on their way down for breakfast.

“You go along,” a familiar, male voice said, “I’ll join you in a moment. I’m going to see if my daughter is awake. I checked on her ten minutes ago and she was still sleeping. It’s about time she gets up.” And then, footsteps coming their way.

The three conspirators froze. “Now what?” Merilin mouthed.

Haldir’s thoughts were racing. They were standing at a junction; the hallway behind them led to Merilin’s room, the one in front of them led to the courtyard, but would soon be blocked by Êreg. “Where is that hallway leading to?” he asked Legolas under his breath, pointing to the left.

“To the hall,” Legolas replied.

“Then what are you waiting for? Go!”

“But my father,” Merilin protested. “My room is not far from here. He will be there before I am.”

“That’s been taken care of,” Haldir said. “Now go!”

Legolas grabbed Merilin’s hand and sprinted off with her, disappearing down the hallway to the left. Êreg’s footsteps came closer.

A maidservant came out one of the rooms, carrying a pile of towels. She smiled at Haldir, and he didn’t even think twice. He took her into his arms and kissed her. She gasped in surprise, her eyes widening.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured against her lips, “but I need your co-operation for a moment. I can’t explain; for now, just pretend to enjoy this.”

That was not going to be very difficult. She dropped the towels to the floor, wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him back, very convincingly. At that moment, Êreg rounded the corner. Haldir couldn’t see him, but the footsteps stopped. That was good. He continued to kiss the girl, automatically deepening the kiss by using his tongue. She allowed him entrance; the girl played along really, really well, he realized with amusement.

Êreg then cleared his throat discreetly. Haldir pulled back from the kiss and turned to face the other Elf.

“Oh, erm, forgive me, Haldir,” Thranduil’s counsellor said with a grin. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

Thank the Valar for the mischievous trait in every Elf, even a respected, old-fashioned man like Êreg. “That’s all right,” Haldir said, “I guess this is not the best place to do this.”

“I can think of better places, indeed,” Êreg said, then glanced meaningfully over Haldir’s shoulder, at the hallway behind him.

“Êreg,” Haldir said hastily, “may I introduce you to…” His voice trailed off. He didn’t know her name! “…To a very special lady…”

“Eirien,” she said, helping him out and curtseying for Êreg, who nodded with a smile.

Haldir managed to hold up Êreg for five minutes with trivial conversation. That should be enough, he thought as he watched the counsellor continue his path. He then helped Eirien pick up and re-fold the towels and thanked her for her co-operation.

“Anytime,” she said, blushing.

Later, Haldir joined Legolas at the breakfast table and they laughed silently when they reported each other their vicissitudes. Gimli observed them contently from a distance. Êreg soon came down, too, followed by Merilin, who winked secretly at Legolas and Haldir. Completely set at ease now, Legolas leaned back in his seat and buttered another slice of bread. He caught Haldir staring at him and made a funny face. Haldir smiled. This was definitely the best morning of his stay in Caras Gwedeir so far. Legolas had confided in him and apparently, that had made him feel better. Haldir was determined to help Legolas through the next few days, and as far as he was concerned, Elessar would not leave Caras Gwedeir before having solved the misunderstanding between him and Legolas.

Aragorn:

A thrill of excitement went through the company when the capital city of Ithilien loomed in the distance. It was almost noon and the sun was still climbing high. The spires of the city shimmered white and fair in the sunlight, their banners caught in the breeze. A shiver passed through Aragorn’s body. A beautiful city with a beautiful ruler. He had been foolish, not to come earlier. And if it hadn’t been for that poem Eldarion had found…

A horn sounded from the city walls, and Aragorn knew that they had been spotted. At that very moment, word spread in the city that King Elessar and his company would make their appearance very shortly. He unconsciously reached for his head and felt the winged crown sitting there. He hadn’t been wearing it during the journey, but Rulof had insisted he would wear it today as they reached the city. Would Legolas come out to meet him? The palms of Aragorn’s hands were sweaty. This was it, this was the moment. It had been the right thing to do, deciding to come; but Valar, was he nervous.

About twenty minutes later – the city was quickly drawing closer now – Rulof pointed and said, “Look, sire, they’re waiting for us. Guards, on horses and with lances… and one man in a purple robe, I bet someone important.”

Aragorn narrowed his eyes. Did he see Legolas among the welcoming committee? No, he concluded, feeling a pang of disappointment. He then concentrated on the man in purple.

“Ah, yes, that is Faramir the Steward,” he told Rulof. “He is the leader of the Men living in this city, and a noble and sensible man.”

At a signal from Faramir, the ceremonial guard set out to meet them, presenting their lances. Faramir rode all the way up to Aragorn, a broad smile on his face. “Welcome, King Elessar! I hope you travelled well?”

“It was an undisturbed journey,” Aragorn replied with a smile. “Good day, Faramir.” They shook hands firmly, like old friends.

“It is an honour for us, that you have decided to attend the festival yourself,” Faramir said, “and we hope that all will be to your pleasing.”

“Why should it not? The city looks splendid. My compliments.”

Faramir beamed with pride. “And you have seen nothing yet. Will you and your company follow me inside? The whole city is in an uproar because of your arrival.”

“Please, lead the way.”

Faramir and the guards turned their horses and made for the city gates, followed immediately by Aragorn, Rulof and the rest of the company. People were crowding in the streets, craning their necks to catch a glimpse of the king. There was cheering and waving. To Aragorn’s amazement, Rulof was waving back even harder than he.

“I see Men and Elves here,” Aragorn said to Faramir, “but it surprises me that Legolas isn’t here with us.”

“That is our custom,” Faramir explained. “During the festival, Elves and Dwarves are housed in Legolas’s palace, while I take care of Men and Hobbits. We will bring you to my palace first, where you will be able to refresh yourself, and then we’ll go to greet Legolas and the Elves.”

Aragorn felt a little disappointed when he heard about this arrangement, which meant that he wouldn’t be staying in Legolas’s vicinity. Faramir pointed ahead. “Those are the spires of Legolas’s palace,” he said, indicating three slender towers of white stone, each crowned with a long, green banner. Aragorn looked at them longingly. So that was where Legolas lived…

Once arrived at Faramir’s palace, the horses of Aragorn’s company were led to the stables and all were brought to their rooms, together with their belongings. Aragorn’s chambers overlooked the River and were lavishly yet tastefully decorated. There were embroidered tapestries, and the four-poster bed, made of strong oak, had a dark-blue silk coverlet on it. The bathroom was tiled with white marble and there was a tub of grey stone. Aragorn sighed contentedly; he had enjoyed those two days out in the open, but the prospect of a warm bath was a very pleasant one.

As the water for his bath was heating, Aragorn stood in front of the mirror and studied his reflection. Had he changed since he’d last seen Legolas? A little, he guessed. The life as a king had taken the rough edges, which his life in the wild had given his body, away; his shoulder-long hair, with an occasional grey strand, shone, and his nails were clean and neatly clipped. Legolas, he guessed, would probably be as beautiful as he had ever been.

He took a hot bath, then chose clean clothes to wear: grey leggings, black boots, a wheat-colored tunic and a deep-red cloak. For a moment, he stood hesitating with his crown in his hands, but in the end, he placed it back on his head and went downstairs to join Faramir. He was introduced to officials and other members of Faramir’s household. Everyone seemed overjoyed to see him, everyone bowed and called him ‘sire’ or even ‘your majesty’, but suddenly there was an exclamation which pleased him even more than a hot bath after a journey could.

“Strider!” Two Hobbits came running to him, followed by a third. He smiled broadly when he recognized the happy faces of his old friends.

“Hello, Sam,” he said, clapping him on the shoulders heartily, then turning to the others. “Hello, Pippin. And Merry! So you have all come! What a pleasant surprise!”

The Hobbits were practically bouncing with joy and fired question after question at him, about Arwen, about his son, about his life as king. He raised his hands and laughed, “Gentlemen, gentlemen! Save some questions for later, please, or we won’t have anything to talk about in the next few days. Tell me something about yourselves, first. Sam, how’s Rosie doing?”

“Very well, Strider,” Sam nodded enthusiastically. Aragorn smiled at him; Sam was no longer the young Hobbit he’d met years ago in the Prancing Pony. He was a married man now, and a father. But he still had his reddish curls, his kind face, and his boyish enthusiasm.

“He’s not Strider anymore, Sam,” Merry said.

Aragorn smiled. “For you I’ll always be Strider.” As he was still inquiring after Merry and Pippin’s domestical situations, Faramir came over to him.

“Excuse me, my lord,” he said, “but your companions are ready to go meet the Elves. Will you join us?”

An invisible hand seized Aragorn by the throat. This was it, then. “Certainly,” he said. He promised the Hobbits he would talk to them again soon, then followed Faramir and joined Rulof, Borlag and Elena. Faramir then led them outside, together with the representatives of the Hobbits and the other Men that had arrived that morning.

In theory, it was a ten-minute walk from Faramir’s palace to Legolas’s, but it took quite a bit longer, for many citizens wanted to greet their king, and Faramir had much to tell about the things they saw on their way. Particularly Rulof was interested in the history of the city.

“When we first arrived here, there was already a settlement here,” Faramir explained, “but it was half-destroyed and practically without inhabitants. We decided to settle here, for the location was good, and to rebuild it and make it the most glorious city in Ithilien. Then the Elves came; originally, they meant to build their colony in the woods not far from here, I’m sure you’ve seen them… but I spoke long with them and finally convinced them to come live here among us and rebuild this city together with us. Perhaps, if our community continues to grow, some of them will leave us and settle in the woods after all. But for now, all are very happy with this arrangement; the co-operation between the races has proved to be very fruitful. The name we gave the city expresses this: Caras Gwedeir, City of Brothers.”

In the end, it took almost thirty minutes to reach the Elves’ dwelling-place, a gorgeous building of white stone with many high windows. All stared in awe, for like everything that was made by elven hands, the palace radiated beauty, light, and love.

They had to cross a wide square to get to the entrance: tall wooden doors, which could be reached by high, ornamental stairs in grey stone. The Elves, being nature-lovers, had adorned the square with trees, shrubs and lavish flower-beds. A guard, at seeing them approach, disappeared inside through the door. To announce their arrival to Legolas, Aragorn assumed and a shiver ran down his spine.

“Come,” Faramir said cheerfully, “let us go and greet them.” That said, he started to lead them across the square. As they made their way to the palace, Elves appeared from inside. They gathered at the top of the ornamental stairs, waiting for the guests to arrive. Their hair and robes moved in the wind.

“Look, Papa,” Aragorn heard Elena say behind him, “Elves! Oh, so exciting! Look, their hair is almost as long as mine.”

They were not yet close enough to discern faces, but Aragorn did not even have to narrow his eyes to recognize Legolas. What it was, he did not know; more Elves had that shiny, blond hair, or that graceful  bearing… and yet he instantly knew which one of those Elves was Legolas.

Legolas stood in front, his officials on his both sides and behind him. Like the others, he was silently and unmovingly waiting for their arrival, overseeing the square below him. Legolas stood upright, his arms loosely at his sides. As they came closer, Aragorn found himself staring at his old friend in awe.

The last time Aragorn had seen him, the Elf had been wearing his clothes from Mirkwood: grey leggings, silver tunic and green jerkin, and his boots, worn after their long travels. Handsome clothes of high quality, but practical. The Elf had already looked beautiful in those, but now… Legolas was wearing a magnificent ceremonial robe, made from a spring-green silk velvet, which contrasted beautifully with his pale-blond hair. The robe was long and covered most of his body, falling down from his neck over his back, chest and arms, to the wrists. It didn’t have separate arm pieces; the tapered sides were open, allowing for his arms. It was a fine piece of craftsmanship, consisting of only one full piece of material, and embroidered with ornamental patterns in silver and a darker green. Legolas looked absolutely stunning.

When they were almost there, the group of Elves began descending the stairs, coming down to meet them. Aragorn braced himself inwardly. As the Elves came towards them, he studied Legolas’s face closely, and a jolt of electricity passed through his body when he realized that Legolas was looking straight back at him, his face betraying nothing. Another gust of wind caught the Elf’s robe, revealing a hint of the suede black leggings and silver tunic he was wearing underneath it. Of the Elves, Legolas was the only one to wear a silver ornamental band on the crown of his head. Aragorn had to keep his jaw from dropping. With his plain clothing, bow and quiver, Legolas had been a warrior; now, for the first time, Aragorn became fully aware of the royal blood in Legolas’s veins. This was the son of King Thranduil, prince Legolas of Mirkwood, lord of the Elves of Ithilien. A beautiful being radiating virility and authority, and yet at the same time instantly recognizable as the kind and good-hearted Elf he was.

At that moment, Aragorn fell in love with Legolas all over again; and he knew it. He could feel it happening with every nerve in his body. Why, why had he been so stupid? Why had he waited fifteen years – fifteen years! – to do this?

“King Elessar,” Legolas said as soon as he was within hearing range, “welcome in Caras Gwedeir. May the blessing of the Valar rest on your house.”

King Elessar. Not Aragorn.

They now stood in front of each other. “As on yours,” Aragorn said. He felt awkward for a moment; how should he greet Legolas? With a handshake? Or a warrior’s greeting, placing a hand on the Elf’s shoulder? But Legolas greeted him according to Elven custom: by laying a hand over his heart and bowing his head. Aragorn followed his example. Then Legolas looked him in the eye again, and Aragorn expected to see at least a hint of an emotion in those royalblue eyes: anger, gladness, accusation or forgiveness… but he saw nothing. Not one sparkle that revealed what the Elf felt.

This could mean two things: either Legolas did indeed feel indifferent towards him – but that seemed impossible, after all that had happened between them – or Legolas was closing up for him. He had done it before. At any rate, Legolas seemed not overjoyed to see him. He was polite, but nothing more than that. But then again, had Aragorn expected otherwise? He had no right to hope for more.

“I hope you travelled well,” Legolas continued. “It is a joy for us that you decided to attend our festival yourself, and we hope that you will be content with the events we’ve scheduled for the next days.”

“I have no reason to suspect otherwise,” Aragorn said. “I look around and see only beauty here.”

It was only after those words had left his lips that Aragorn realized the ambiguity they held. He carefully gauged Legolas for a reaction, but saw none. Legolas now turned to the others. “Welcome to you all, strangers from afar. You represent a party of your people with whom you have come here to celebrate the New Peace and the fraternization between the races. Legolas is my name and these are my officials, who came from Mirkwood with me years ago, to settle in Ithilien. Tonight, there will be a banquet for all our guests, to officially ring in the three-day festival that will begin tomorrow. For now, I suggest you follow us inside and enjoy a modest lunch with us. The remainder of the afternoon will be yours.”

This invitation was received with gladness, and all followed the Elves inside. Lunch was served in the dining room, where Aragorn suddenly found himself being embraced by a Dwarf.

“Gimli!” he exclaimed.

“Aye, ‘tis I,” the Dwarf said happily. “Good to see you, Aragorn.”

“Right back at you, Gimli,” Aragorn smiled, “you haven’t changed a bit.”

“Legolas!” Gimli called at the Elf, who was standing some distance away, talking to some of the representatives. “Come over here, Master Elf.”

Legolas looked surprised; he excused himself to his conversation partners and came over to Gimli and Aragorn. “What is it, Gimli?”

“Memorize this moment, laddies,” Gimli said, and he would probably have clapped them on the shoulders if he had been taller. “The Three Hunters reunited!”

“Indeed,” Aragorn said with a smile. “And how time has changed since then, my friends.” He shifted his gaze from Gimli to Legolas, only to find that Legolas’s eyes were already on him. They held each other’s gaze for a moment before Legolas looked away.

Lunch was pleasant, but Aragorn found himself wishing he could, for a moment, lay down his office as king as he could lay down his crown; people were constantly claiming his attention, and although he was sitting right next to Legolas, he barely exchanged a word with him. Legolas’s body, so close and yet so far away, provided a temptation Aragorn could not deny. The urge was great to lean over and feel that once so familiar body in his arms again. Fool, he thought to himself, fool. You have no right and you know it.

He had to create a private moment with Legolas Surely the Elf would be willing to listen to what he had to say? Surely Legolas felt bad too about what had happened between them? Why else would he act so detachedly? But perhaps Legolas, too, was waiting for a better moment to open up to him.

After lunch, both Aragorn and Legolas were claimed by obligations elsewhere, and Aragorn knew he would not see the Elf again until the banquet.

The grand banquet that night took place on the square in front of Legolas’s palace. Numerous long tables had been arranged in a giant square and covered with white linen. Torches were lit everywhere, providing enough light to dine by. Guests gathered, chattering and laughing. Dozens of plates, filled with the most exquisite dishes, were set on the table, goblets were filled with wine. Especially the Hobbits and the Dwarves eyed all that delicious food excitedly.

Aragorn, to his regret, learned that he was not to be seated next to Legolas. Legolas sat between Faramir and Túrgwaith, his brother. Aragorn was sitting next to the other sibling, Arorod. They knew each other well, for Aragorn had been a guest in King Thranduil’s palace several times before the War of the Ring.

As soon as every single seat was filled – the sky was dark and speckled with stars by now –, both Faramir and Legolas rose, and everyone went quiet.

“Honourable guests,” Faramir began, “here we are all gathered at last. You have come from all corners of Middle-earth to celebrate the New Peace together with us and with each other, as representatives of your people. It is a joy to us that we received so many positive responses to our invitations, and that you have all taken the time and the trouble to make the journey hither. Most of all King Elessar, who in spite of his busy schedule has found the time to honour us with his presence.” He indicated Aragorn, and people applauded.

Aragorn rose. “Forgive me,” he said, “but it is only a two-day journey from Minas Tirith to Caras Gwedeir. I think that our good Dwarves from Erebor, Men from Esgaroth and Dale, and our Hobbits from the Shire deserve more applause than I do.” He sat down again. All applauded, and the Dwarves from Erebor roared their approval.

“On behalf of all the Elves and Men of Caras Gwedeir,” Faramir continued, “I would like to welcome you all here in our middle. We hope that in three days from now, you will all return to your dwelling-places in contentment, and with hope for an even brighter future in a peaceful world, where Elf and Dwarf, Man and Hobbit sit side by side as brothers.” There was applause again, and Faramir paused. “Legolas will now tell you what events are scheduled for the next three days,” he said, and he nodded at the Elf.

“This meal will be the official beginning of the festival,” Legolas began. “I will make it short, for I am sure that you are all very eager to begin.” He smiled, and Aragorn felt his heart flutter in his chest. Gods, how beautiful that Elf was when he smiled! “Tomorrow, there will be several competitions. For the Men and Elves, there will be an archery competition as well as a jousting competition.” This was followed by cheering from the Men from Rohan, who particularly loved any sport involving horses.

“We were not sure about what kind of competition the Hobbits and Dwarves would wish for,” Legolas continued, “so we asked them. The Hobbits voted for a dancing competition, while the Dwarves…” – the corners of Legolas’s mouth twitched and Aragorn heard suppressed laughter in his words when he continued – “…the Dwarves unanimously preferred a beer-drinking competition.”

Everyone roared with laughter, the Dwarves the loudest. They cheered, raising their arms and shaking their fists victoriously.

“So dancing and beer-drinking it is!” Legolas continued. “In addition to these competitions, craftsmen from all races will be giving public instruction tomorrow, for anyone who’s interested. I believe there will be lessons in wood-carving, glass-blowing, fencing, archery, and much more. It will be a good opportunity for us to learn about each other’s traditions and habits. On the second day, there will be a market where all of you will be able to show us what you brought from your cities and to see what others have brought. And there will also be several competitions on the River, like swimming and rowing. On the third day there will be trading again, as well as street theatre and other forms of entertainment. Every day will end with a banquet like this one. The festival will officially end with the banquet of the third day.”

There was approving applause, and Legolas smiled again. “But I’ve kept you long enough now. I suggest we all officially begin the festival and enjoy this meal.” That said, he and Faramir sat down. All applauded, and then the festival had officially begun.

It all turned out very pleasant. All dishes were excellent, and especially the Hobbits and the Dwarves ate like there was no tomorrow. Aragorn watched it all happen with contentment; who would have thought that one day all races would sit together and have a good time? He ate slowly and thoughtfully Sometimes he would exchange a few words with someone, but most of the time he sat thinking. He regretted not sitting closer to Legolas, and he envied Faramir, who was conversing with the Elf, apparently having a good time as he did so.

Aragorn tried hard to think of a way to approach Legolas. He needed to tell the Elf what the main reason had been for him to come to Caras Gwedeir; the poem Eldarion had found, the realization that he had done Legolas wrong and his desire to tell him how much he regretted the fact that he’d not done anything sooner. Would Legolas want to discuss it with him?

Aragorn watched Legolas’s face as he talked to Faramir. So beautiful. Such fair, strong features. He could easily remember falling in love with Legolas during their journey south, many years ago. At first, he had only admired Legolas’s alertness, never-waning positivity and his skills as a warrior. It wasn’t until later that Aragorn found himself eyeing the Elf’s face and body with alarming interest. In the beginning, he had told himself that he was just looking for comfort after Gandalf’s death, that he temporarily needed a substitute for Arwen, who was far away. But not long after he and Legolas had turned from companions into lovers, he realized it was more. He was quickly and overwhelmingly falling in love with the Elf. And that was when the Denying had begun.

Oh, Legolas, Aragorn now thought as he silently watched the Elf, will you believe me when I tell you how sorry I am? How sorry I am for how I let things end between us? For tossing you aside, as if you meant nothing to me? And for not even explaining why I did it?

The evening wore on merrily. The Dwarves were already having an unofficial beer-drinking competition, it seemed, and their booming laughter could be heard everywhere. Long after all plates had been emptied, all sat talking and singing. Some musicians came with their instruments, and they sat down to play some tunes. This resulted in a dancing lesson in the middle of the square, in hobbit fashion. Several hobbit dancing pairs did a quick dance, while Men, Elves and even some Dwarves followed their example. The others merely watched, in high spirits.

At that point, a pretty, dark-haired elf woman in a dark-green dress came over to Legolas, and she said something to him Aragorn could not understand. He eyed the scene, puzzled. Who was she?

Although Aragorn could not hear what was said, it was clear that the girl was trying to convince Legolas to dance with her. He shook his head no, smiling, but apparently she used her female charmes on him, for in the end, he got up and followed her to the dance floor.

“Is that his girlfriend?” Aragorn could hear Elena whisper to her father.

Borlag laughed. “How should I know, daughter? Girlfriend or not, I think it would be better if you concentrated on men who are less unattainable.”

Ah, Legolas, Aragorn thought; much has changed in the past years, but it seems you still have that effect on women. He clearly recalled the way women of his kind had stared at Legolas during their travels long ago; seeing an Elf was a happening in itself for most of them, but like Aragorn, they saw that special, almost unearthly beauty Legolas had to him. Strangely enough, Legolas himself seemed to be completely unaware of that admiration; one of the many things Aragorn liked so much about him.

Legolas and the girl now joined in the dance, Legolas with one arm around her slender waist and she with one hand on his shoulder. Their feet quickly picked up the steps and soon, they whirled among the other pairs as the musicians sped up the pace. Aragorn leaned over to Arorod. “Who is that girl dancing with Legolas?” he asked him casually.

“Merilin.” Arorod, blond and attractive like his younger brother, took a healthy swallow of his wine. “She is from Mirkwood, too; her father is my father’s counsellor.”

“Charming lady,” Aragorn said, watching as the couple whirled past the table, both laughing delightedly.

“Certainly.”

“So, do I see a marriage brewing here?” Aragorn wanted to know.

“Oh no,” Arorod said, “her father betrothed her to another long ago. Not,” he added with a wink, “that my dear brother would heed that…”

Aragorn looked at him quizzically. “What do you mean?”

Arorod leaned forward confidentially. “He never confirmed it,” he said softly, “but we suspect that they became lovers long ago. But ssh –”, he sealed his mouth with a finger, “her father is not supposed to know.”

Aragorn smiled wryly. “I’ll be silent as the grave.”

The dance ended, and Legolas and Merilin let go of each other to applaud with the others. But not quite quickly enough; Aragorn, as attentive observer, noticed how Legolas’s hand slowly, too slowly, fell from Merilin’s waist, and Aragorn thought that Arorod was probably right. He was instantly and painfully jealous, and this irritated him. If there’s someone here who doesn’t have the right to be jealous, it’s you, Aragorn, he thought.

Legolas said something to Merilin, and then came towards the table. The musicians were getting ready for another piece of music. Rulof rose to his feet and courtiously offered Elena his hand. “Would you like to dance with me?” he asked her.

She looked up at him, smiling surprisedly. “Ehm, all right,” she said, and she took his offered hand and followed him to the dance floor.

Legolas now stood in front of the table. “Enjoying yourself, little brother?” Arorod asked him.

“Yes, thank you, Arorod,” Legolas replied, then he pulled his long robe over his head, folded it quickly and gave it to Arorod. “Keep this for me, will you?”

Arorod accepted the garment. “Another dance? Be careful, Legolas. Her father’s here too.”

“Not your business, brother,” Legolas said cheerfully as he opened the upper laces of his tunic and rolled the sleeves up. Apparently he was preparing for at least another few dances. He then leaned forward, his hands flat on the table. “Look,” he said softly, suddenly serious, “I understand your concern, but in a few days she’ll be gone and I probably won’t ever see her again. So I just want to enjoy her company while she’s here and not worry about that father of hers.”

Arorod nodded. “I understand. I’m sorry, you’re right. Go and have fun, then.”

“Thank you.” Legolas turned and walked back to Merilin, who was waiting for him. The dance was about to begin.

“Well,” Arorod said to Aragorn, “that’s the closest he’s ever got to admitting it. But he has a point. It’s a pity he can’t officially court her; they make a nice couple.”

“Indeed.” Aragorn stared at Legolas’s robe in Arorod’s hands and wished he could hold it, feel the texture and hold it against his face to inhale the scent of it. “Is this the way with your people? Betrothing girls to someone at a young age?”

“It disappears more and more. But her father is of the old stamp. He would explode if he found out about their affair.”

Aragorn couldn’t help feeling sorry for Legolas, despite his jealousy. He and Merilin seemed quite fond of each other, but some old-fashioned tradition that was quickly falling into disuse would separate them in the end. For some reason, Aragorn felt even more guilty now. When would Legolas find someone who could fully return his love? He deserved it so much.

“Can’t her father be convinced to come back on his promise?” Aragorn asked Arorod. “Legolas is, after all, a good catch for a girl. He is a prince, with a good and noble heart.”

“Êreg never breaks a promise,” Arorod said. “And there’s two other reasons why he would forbid Legolas to marry her. Firstly, because a marriage would result in Merilin coming to live here, and he wants her to stay in Mirkwood, where she was born.”

“And secondly?”

“Secondly: everyone knows that Legolas is close to giving in to the Sea-calling.” Arorod looked sad suddenly. “Êreg would fear that Legolas would either leave Merilin behind broken-hearted, or take her with him. He would want to protect his daughter from that.”

“Oh,” was all Aragorn could say. After a short silence, he asked, “So, Legolas still can’t forget the Sea, can he?”

“Never.” Arorod shook his head and sighed. “Sometimes I wonder why he hasn’t sailed away yet; the Sea calls so strongly to him. But perhaps his responsibility for the city keeps him here. I don’t know. He never talks about it.”

“Not to anyone?”

“To no one, as far as I know.” Arorod was silent for a moment, then asked with a sigh, “What happened to him, Elessar? He came back from the War and had changed. He tried to act cheerful as ever, but it was as if a veil of sadness lay over him. At first, we thought it was because of all the friends he’d lost in the War, all the death and destruction he’d seen. But years have passed and still he’s not the Legolas he once was. Do you have any idea?”

“No,” Aragorn said hesitantly. But in truth, he thought he had a fairly good idea about the source of Legolas’s unhappiness. Great, he thought to himself. Here is one of Legolas’s siblings, dead worried about his brother, coming to you for counsel, and you lie in his face. Oh, this had to end! He simply had to solve this, for the sake of all. It was only a matter of waiting for the right opportunity to find a quiet place and to take Legolas apart.

That opportunity, unfortunately, did not come that night. At some point, deep in the night, Faramir and Legolas bade the guests good night, and servants came to clear the tables. Guests disappeared to their rooms, tired but content. Aragorn spoke with a few people, and when he finally found the time to go see Legolas, he learned that the Elf had gone. Êreg sat nearby with the other Mirkwood Elves, but Merilin was nowhere to be seen. They were probably off together, Aragorn assumed, and after a short hesitation, he accepted Faramir’s invitation to walk back to his palace with him.

Tomorrow, he thought as he absent-mindedly listened to Faramir’s talk. I will talk to Legolas tomorrow.

Read Author's Notes for these parts.