~Part Nine: Under The Leaves Of Lórien~

Caras Gwedeir, May 13th, F.A. 13. (flashback to January 17th, T.A. 3019 – February 24th, T.A. 3019)

Aragorn:

That morning, Aragorn deliberated with the other members of his delegation on their departure. Aragorn made it known that his Council did not expect him back for the next four or five days, and that he would gladly stay another day or two. This news was received with joy by his companions, and thus it was decided that they would leave Caras Gwedeir in two days, on May 15th.

After all, Aragorn thought to himself as he ate his breakfast, he still hadn’t done what he had come for.

Later that morning, Aragorn witnessed the Mirkwood Elves’ departure. He told Arorod and Túrgwaith to send his greetings to their father, and watched with a bleeding heart as Legolas and Merilin formally bade each other farewell. Êreg sat on his horse a few meters away, holding the reins of Merilin’s horse, and waiting for his daughter to join him.

“Don’t forget your promise,” Aragorn heard Merilin say softly.

“I won’t,” he said, bringing her hand to his lips for a formal hand kiss. “Thank you, for everything.”

“Goodbye, Legolas.”

“Goodbye, Merilin.”

And then she was gone, riding off to Mirkwood with the others of her kin. Aragorn threw a careful glance at Legolas. The Elf held his composure, but was a little pale in the face and looked like he would never smile again.

More guests left that day, and Legolas saw them all off, as was his duty. Aragorn noticed that Haldir was often in Legolas’s vicinity, eyeing his friend with concern. Apparently they were both worrying about Legolas. Aragorn knew very well that Elves could die of a broken heart, and he hoped with all his soul that Legolas’s would last through this ordeal.

Rulof seemed to sense Legolas’s state of mind, too, for he carefully asked Legolas if he would like to accompany him to the archery range that afternoon. The Elf smiled and accepted the invitation. It was a kind gesture of Rulof, but it meant that Legolas, after his busy schedule that morning, still wasn’t available to Aragorn.

With Legolas and Rulof went Elena. Aragorn wondered if the girl would act on her admiration for the Elf, now that her rival was gone. He hoped not; he didn’t think the Elf would be very susceptible to advances now.

That evening, Legolas and his officials were to have dinner with the others in Faramir’s palace, but the Elves arrived without their prince and told them that Legolas let himself be excused.

“I hope he is well?” Faramir asked them with concern.

“Oh yes,” they replied, “he only preferred to dine alone tonight, and retire early.”

“Yes,” Faramir acknowledged, “these have been hectic days.”

Aragorn said nothing. Another complication! Did the Elf mean to avoid him? Or had he lied to his officials and did he indeed feel unwell? The old Legolas would never have preferred to dine alone, not even after an exhausting, three-day festival.

During dinner, Aragorn noticed that Haldir was absent-minded as well. He barely spoke, ate swiftly and excused himself as soon as his plate was empty. Aragorn did not miss the glance the Lórien Elf threw at him before leaving. Aragorn guessed Haldir would go check on Legolas.

Aragorn retired to his room early, too. He seated himself behind his desk and let his thoughts stray. What are you still doing here? a voice in his head asked him. You said you would wait until Merilin was gone. Now she’s gone, she left hours and hours ago, and still you’ve done nothing.

This is not the right moment, another voice said. And Legolas clearly wants to avoid the subject.

For this, there is never a ‘right’ moment, the first voice said again. And of course he avoids the subject. But in your heart, you know he is waiting for you to make the first move. You have to, you know that. So you’d better do it now. It’s what you came here for.

Aragorn got up and went over to his bed. On his bedside cabinet lay a medium-sized book with a black leather cover. He picked it up and opened it. It immediately fell open on the page where he had put the leaf Eldarion had found. When packing his luggage before his departure from Minas Tirith, he had decided he would take it with him. It had seemed important somehow. He now sat down on his bed and studied the object again.

Lothlórien. Where he had arrived after Gandalf’s fall, as the new leader of the Fellowship; agrieved, despairing, and finding himself no longer able to resist his attraction to the youngest prince of Mirkwood. He’d always found Legolas pleasant to talk to; the Elf was a good listener, and somehow always seemed to know instinctively what to say to make Aragorn feel better. In Caras Galadhon, the first evening, the two of them had gone for a walk together. Aragorn had opened his heart to Legolas, voiced his concerns and uncertainties; and the Elf had comforted him. His kind and sincere words had eased Aragorn’s soul, warmed his heart.

They had been alone, just the two of them. The Elf had been close, so very close. Aragorn eyed his friend’s face, the features young-looking but mature at the same time. The Elf’s long hair intrigued him; to his own embarrassment, he found himself comparing it to Arwen’s. While Arwen’s hair was raven-black, Legolas’s hair was pale-blond like a cornfield in summer. It was also shorter than Arwen’s, which reached to her waist. But it was thick and shiny and Aragorn didn’t doubt that it would feel as satin-like as Arwen’s.

But Aragorn’s attraction to Legolas concerned more than just the Elf’s face and hair. By the gods, he realized with shock as he listened to Legolas’s soft-spoken words, every inch of the Elf’s body simply begged to be touched, kissed, licked… Could this really be happening? Did he feel sexually attracted to another male, his friend Legolas at that?

He could think of a thousand reasons not to act on that attraction. Arwen. Elrond. Gondor. Gandalf. Legolas himself, the friendship they’d shared for many years. The Quest. And Arwen again.

The same evening, Aragorn had strayed away from the Company and found Legolas near a secluded pool. The Elf had apparently taken a dive; he had unbraided his hair, which hung over his right shoulder in damp strands. He was naked save for a white towel around his waist and was busy washing his clothes; he had filled a basin with water and sat on his knees behind it, scrubbing his tunic with soap, making the water foam.

Legolas had heard him approaching, and looked up with a smile. Aragorn tried hard not to pay attention to the masculine, alluring curves of Legolas’s naked torso, and even harder not to wonder what beauty lay hidden underneath that towel. He smiled back at the Elf. “Doing the laundry?”

“Yes. Since we had to send Bill away at the gates of Moria, and leave most of our extra clothing behind, I have only one extra tunic with me. And an opportunity like this won’t come along again very soon.”

“True.” Aragorn automatically eyed his own worn outfit, caked with mud. He also saw several dried blood stains on his hands. Legolas caught him inspecting his clothes.

“Why don’t you follow my example and have a refreshing dive, too, Aragorn?” he proposed. “I can wash your clothes in the meantime while I’m at it.”

“I couldn’t possibly ask you to do that,” Aragorn said.

“No, but you didn’t ask me, I offered it,” Legolas said with a smile. “Someone has to take care of your personal hygiene, if you won’t do it yourself.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure.” The Elf rinsed the tunic, pulled it out of the water, wrung it out and spread it out upon the grass. He then looked up at Aragorn, who still stood hesitating. “Come on,” he chuckled.

Aragorn began to slowly undress himself. He roughly folded his long, leather coat and put it aside, together with his belt and boots. He then undid the laces of his tunic and took it off, unconsciously holding his breath when he suddenly stood half-naked in front of the Elf. But Legolas casually took the garment from him and immersed it in the basin. He picked up the piece of soap and started scrubbing again, not looking at Aragorn as the Man took off his trousers, too.

They continued their conversation of that evening, but now on lighter subjects, while Aragorn sat in the pool and Legolas washed his clothes for him. Aragorn secretly watched the muscles of Legolas’s arms and shoulders working, and found it very alluring. But what enticed him the most was Legolas’s long spine, flexing beneath the ivory skin of his back. Aragorn longed to run his fingertips over that spine, all the way down; very softly, very gently. He wondered how the Elf would react to that.

He really shouldn’t be thinking these things. But he was. Gods, Legolas really was the embodiment of seduction. And then suddenly, quite unexpected to himself, Aragorn shifted in the water. He pulled himself up onto the rocks, stood on the shore and rose to his feet, grabbing a towel lying nearby on the shore and wrapping it around his waist. Legolas looked at him and smiled.

“Almost done,” he said, then concentrated on his task of washing Aragorn’s trousers again.

Aragorn said nothing. Some part of his brain he did not have control over was guiding his every movement now. He stood behind Legolas and said, “I really appreciate what you’re doing.”

“It’s no trouble,” Legolas said. He pulled the garment from the basin and started wringing it out. Aragorn knelt behind the Elf and hesitantly raised his hand.

Legolas looked back over his shoulder. “What are you – oh!” Aragorn had followed his heart’s directions and placed the tips of his fingers on the top of Legolas’s spine. For a few seconds, nothing could be heard but the drip-drip of the water that trickled down from Aragorn’s wet trousers and Legolas’s arms. Aragorn then slowly slid his fingertips down Legolas’s spine. He could feel Legolas tense beneath his touch, and the Elf’s breathing quickened.

To Aragorn’s surprise, Legolas did not protest. This made Aragorn bolder, and he now placed both his hands on Legolas’s back, his fingers spread a little. He then started to stroke Legolas softly, moving his hands up and down over Legolas’s back and shoulders. The Elf’s skin was deliciously soft. Still Legolas did not speak, but his body responded to the touch where his lips did not; Aragorn could feel tension vibrating beneath Legolas’s skin. He felt he had to comfort the Elf somehow.

“Do you want me to stop?” he asked him softly.

Legolas did not respond immediately. “To be honest: no,” he finally said, his voice a little hoarse.

Aragorn leaned in and kissed Legolas behind one of his pointed ears. “Neither do I,” he said. He tenderly nibbled at Legolas’s neck, then his shoulder. Legolas sighed and tilted his head to the side to give Aragorn better access. Aragorn continued making a trail of light kisses and heard Legolas sigh again. Was this possible? Did Legolas actually want this? Apparently so…

Aragorn’s hands kneaded Legolas’s shoulders, his arms. He then ran his thumbs down the Elf’s back, applying light pressure. Legolas moaned softly and turned his head to face Aragorn over his shoulder. And then the Elf’s lips were on his. Aragorn returned the kiss, parting his lips to receive Legolas’s searching tongue, and his heart pounded wildly with the unexpected pleasure of it. The bundle Legolas had been holding fell back in the basin with a splash, and the Elf slightly twisted his upper body, making it easier to kiss the Man behind him.

Aragorn’s hands now rested on Legolas’s hips. Before he knew he was doing it, he had hooked his thumbs beneath the towel. It slid effortlessly from Legolas’s hips and the Elf gasped; he sat completely naked now. Aragorn could not see the front of Legolas’s body, but he let his hands explore instead of his eyes. He trailed his fingertips over Legolas’s abdomen – oh, so soft – and the front of his hips. Legolas moaned and pushed back against him.

Aragorn was breathing quickly. Gods, this was too erotic. It was strange to feel Legolas’s body so close, the body of his long-time friend; it was supple, muscled and hardened by battle, yet soft and yielding under his touch. The body of a male, surrendering to his hands; it was a new sensation for Aragorn. The Elf tickled and stimulated his every sense, literally. The taste of Legolas’s mouth, the feel of his skin, his sweet body scent, it all caused Aragorn to quickly grow hard under his own towel.

Legolas must have become aware of the towel, too, for he reached back and fumbled the knot keeping it in place. A heartbeat later, the towel fell away. A gentle breeze touched Aragorn’s naked body, but his skin seemed to be on fire.

Aragorn sat back on his heels and stroked Legolas’s buttocks with both hands, then kneaded them gently, making the Elf moan softly. He pushed Legolas against his back, making him sit on all fours. Legolas complied, quivering a little now that he made himself so vulnerable. But Aragorn stroked his back reassuringly and reached around, seeking the Elf’s cock and finding it. Legolas let out a soft cry when Aragorn took him into his hand, and the Man noted that the Elf was already fully aroused; Legolas was heat and hardness against his palm. When Aragorn’s hand formed a tight tunnel around Legolas’s firm erection, the Elf groaned and started to encouragingly move his hips back and forth.

Aragorn let out a shaky sigh as he stroked the Elf’s shaft like he would do his own. Sweet Valar, that felt good. But it could even be better. His eyes fell on the discarded piece of soap lying next to the basin. He let go of Legolas’s erection, ignoring the Elf’s whimper, and picked up the piece of soap. It was slippery; good. He rubbed it between his hands, then put it away again. With his right hand he took hold of Legolas’s cock again; thanks to the soap, his hand now slid up and down more smoothly, and Legolas hissed in delight. With his left hand, Aragorn did the same with his own cock.

Legolas now moved rhythmically against his hand, moaning as he did so. Oh gods, Aragorn thought vaguely; Legolas, you are undoing me. He let go of his own erection and leaned in to the Elf, bending over him. His cock automatically found its place in the cleft between Legolas’s buttocks.

“Ai!” Legolas gasped when Aragorn’s hardness touched him so intimately, and the trembling of his body increased. Aragorn slid the length of his tongue over Legolas’s shoulders and the nape of his neck, in the meantime riding against the Elf’s backside, rubbing the length of his cock between Legolas’s buttocks. His hand around Legolas’s shaft never stopped moving.

Legolas moved faster, making smooth, pumping movements with his hips. “Oh, Valar!” he moaned, his voice trembling with need. “Aragorn…”

At hearing Legolas speak his name in this unusual manner, Aragorn’s arousal increased greatly, and he moved faster against the Elf; the delicious friction was quickly bringing him to unknown heights of ecstasy. He tried not to think of how delightful it would be to fully consummate Legolas, to really penetrate him; for now, this was pleasurable enough.

“Aragorn!” Legolas moaned, sounding a bit strangled. “I – I am going to come!”

“Oh gods, yes,” Aragorn gasped. “I want you to come, Legolas. Don’t hold back – let me hear you!”

Legolas only moaned in response. He made a last few thrusting movements with his hips. His fingers were digging into the ground in front of him and the inarticulate sounds of pleasure he made were an arousing combination of moans, wails and sobs. They vibrated through Aragorn’s entire being, and the Ranger drank in the intoxicating sight of the elven archer becoming undone under his touch.

Then, Legolas arched his back, his entire body suddenly taut like a bent bow, ready for release. Aragorn, in a daze, noted that the Elf’s cock bucked in his hand right before release, just like his own. Legolas let out a cry as he found completion, his seed pumping out of him and spilling over Aragorn’s fingers. Legolas’s cry alone was enough to send Aragorn over the edge; he swiveled his hips once, twice, and then came, too. He grabbed Legolas’s hips and pulled the Elf back against him one final time as his seed left him.

He let go of the Elf and sat back on his rear, shaking all over. “Oh, gods,” he managed, “that was incredible.”

Legolas sat back on his heels, trembling too, and looked back at him. For the first time, they looked each other straight in the eye. The eye contact was so intense, Aragorn thought his heart was about to burst.

“What do we do now?” Legolas whispered, out of breath after his orgasm.

“I don’t know,” Aragorn said softly. That was true; he really had no idea. His mind was clearer now, and realization slowly dawned on him: he, Aragorn, heir to the throne of Gondor and betrothed to Arwen, had allowed himself to enjoy the pleasures of the body with Legolas, his friend and fellow warrior in this terrible War. That was the full truth of the situation. He and Legolas. Legolas and he. So wrong. Yet it hadn’t felt wrong at all; it had felt like heaven.

That was the worst thing: Aragorn knew that, once he’d have regained his strength after his orgasm, he would want to do it again. He already found himself eyeing Legolas’s body with admiration. But he tore his gaze away.

“I guess I’ll continue my bath,” he said. He felt his cheeks burn.

“Yes.” Legolas was blushing, too, as he wrapped the towel around his waist again. Aragorn almost whimpered when the Elf’s beautiful round buttocks disappeared from sight beneath the cloth, but he stopped himself just in time. “I’ll finish your trousers, then,” Legolas said.

Aragorn lowered himself in the water again while Legolas continued washing his trousers. Both were silent, ill at ease. Legolas then went away but soon returned with clean clothes for the both of them. They dressed. Before returning to camp with their wet clothes, Legolas said, “Perhaps it’s best if we forget this happened.” He did not look Aragorn in the eye.

“Yes,” Aragorn said, “I suppose so.” But he knew he would never forget this, for as long as he would live.

That had been the first time. But it had not been the last. Gods, no; it had felt so good, so good being intimate with Legolas. Aragorn could hardly believe what was happening. He knew that Elves were more free in their sexual contacts than Men; in the years before their marriage, most of them would have partners of both genders. Some even made a lifelong commitment to someone of the same gender. But Aragorn was a Man and had never fancied a male before. And now, Aragorn soon found himself burning with desire for this Elf. But Legolas was no ordinary male. Even among the Fair Folk, Legolas’s beauty stood out. He was, of course, physically attractive – and that phrase seemed insultingly plain when it was used to describe the youngest prince of Mirkwood –, but it was more. He possessed a deeper beauty that came from within. Legolas had a beautiful soul; youthful, yet mature. Sometimes cheerful and clown-like, sometimes silent and sensitive. Brave in battle, yet gentle and caring in friendship. And, as Aragorn soon learned, passionate yet devoted and tender as a lover.

To Aragorn’s amazement, Legolas seemed to want the same. They gave in to their desires and after a little while, the discomfort eased; Aragorn didn’t forget Arwen, and didn’t stop feeling guilty towards her, but when he was with Legolas, he was able to concentrate on their pleasure.

During their shared hours of intimacy in Lórien, Aragorn was constantly fighting his desire to make love to Legolas in the completest sense of the word; the thought of Arwen was the only thing stopping him. The Elf seemed to sense this and didn’t ask for more than Aragorn gave him. Instead, he showed Aragorn what he could do to make their escapades pleasurable without that.

At first, Aragorn succeeded in setting his mind at ease by telling himself little lies. Arwen would never know. And even if she would find out, she would understand. He needed comfort, and Arwen was far away, so he had to find it elsewhere. It was only about his carnal instincts. Yes, he wasn’t a young man anymore, and they were at war, but that didn’t mean he was without needs. Arwen would not blame him for having his desires satiated by a substitute in her absence. It meant nothing.

Lies. He told himself he was completely in control but it was a lie.

He was scared to death. Scared by his feelings for Legolas, intensifying every time he laid eyes upon that enchanting creature. Scared by the rapid beating of his heart every time Legolas smiled, or someone even spoke the Elf’s name. Scared by that undeniable urge to speak those three words to the Elf, whisper them against Legolas’s flawless skin: I love you.

After that first night, phrases like “What do we do now?”, “But what about Arwen?” and “What about our friendship?” had disappeared from their conversations. They kissed like lovers, found completion in each other’s hands and mouth, lay in each other’s arms afterwards, but they avoided talking about the future, or their true feelings.

This worked for a little while. But the night before their departure from Lórien, realization struck Aragorn hard.

He and Legolas had found a private spot between the grand mallorn trees, and that is where they lay together that night, Legolas spooned behind Aragorn. Aragorn lay with his eyes closed, enjoying the moment. The prospect of their departure was unsettling, but Legolas’s calm, regular breathing and the warmth of his body were comforting.

Legolas had his arm around Aragorn and was thoughtlessly stroking his chest with his fingertips. It had been an hour since they’d found their release, but neither felt like going back to the others already. Aragorn found this slightly unsettling. Weren’t they beginning to feel a little too much at ease with each other? And what would the day of tomorrow bring? Would they continue their escapades after their departure from Lórien? It would be more difficult, and definitely less appropriate. They would be out in the open again, in hostile territory. The Quest would be the most important thing.

“What are you thinking of?” Legolas asked, his voice low with contentment and sleepiness.

“Of tomorrow, and the days after that,” Aragorn replied.

“And of the course we’ll take once we reach the Falls of Rauros?”

“Yes, that too.”

“Don’t worry, Aragorn.” Legolas propped his head on his hand and leaned over to kiss Aragorn’s neck. “All will be well in the end. You have to keep believing that,” he murmured.

“Yes,” Aragorn sighed, shivering when the tip of Legolas’s tongue slid along his neck. When Legolas spoke again, he suddenly sounded far less sleepy.

“Let me see what I can do to set your mind at ease.” He took Aragorn by the shoulder and made him roll over, and lie on his back. He then straddled the Man.

Aragorn stared at the naked Elf sitting on top of him, and his heart pounded wildly with anticipation. “What are you going to do?” he asked with a smile.

“You’ll see.” Legolas bent forward and kissed him. Aragorn buried his hands in Legolas’s hanging-down hair and returned the kiss. He barely noticed Legolas’s hands travelling over his chest until the Elf suddenly pinched both his nipples.

“Ah!” he gasped.

Legolas pulled away with a smile, but not before he’d affectionately bitten Aragorn’s lower lip. He started to kiss and lick his way down Aragorn’s chest, progressing slowly until he reached Aragorn’s abdomen and had the Man wriggling and moaning under him.

When Legolas took him into his mouth, Aragorn groaned and parted his thighs invitingly. Ah, he loved it when Legolas pleasured him thus; the Elf had a gifted mouth. Aragorn couldn’t help wondering how much practise Legolas had had to become so good. Aragorn rested his head back against the ground and looked up at the tree tops, in the meantime fully enjoying what Legolas was doing to him. The feeling of Legolas’s hair sliding over his bare thighs provided an extra, delicious sensation.

Legolas skilfully brought him to the top of his pleasure, and just when Aragorn thought he was going to culminate hard and fast in Legolas’s mouth, the Elf moved away. Aragorn lay panting and whimpering. “Legolas, why do you stop, pen-balch?” [cruel one]

Legolas smiled. “Not to worry, it doesn’t stop here.” He folded his hand around the base of Aragorn’s cock and held it in an upright position. “But I want you to look at me.”

Aragorn lifted his head and looked at the Elf quizzically. “What?”

“Like that, exactly.” Legolas let his tongue snake out and curled it teasingly around the head of Aragorn’s erection, in the meantime keeping his eyes on Aragorn’s.

Gods, that was intense. Aragorn shuddered as Legolas continued to lick him. He succeeded in maintaining eye contact for a few seconds, but then he gave in to the urge to let his eyes stray away. Legolas stopped immediately. “Look at me, Aragorn.”

“I – I can’t,” Aragorn said.

“Look at me or I won’t continue.”

With great effort, Aragorn fused his gaze with Legolas’s again and watched how Legolas let his long, supple tongue work on him. After some teasing, Legolas moved down, swallowing Aragorn completely. He had to break eye contact for a moment, but as soon as he had reached the tip again, he looked at Aragorn to see if the Man was still watching. Which was the case. Aragorn was leaning on his elbows, his eyes fixed on the point where his cock disappeared into the Elf’s mouth.

Legolas turned his head a little to give Aragorn a better view and then moved down again. Aragorn stared wide-eyed, seeing how Legolas took him almost all the way. When the Elf moved back up, the sight of his cock reappearing from the warm cavern of Legolas’s mouth almost undid Aragorn. “Oh gods,” he said between clenched teeth, “this is sinful.”

This time, Legolas did not deny him his release. He continued to move up and down until Aragorn, who had been watching all the time, cried out and came hard in the Elf’s mouth. He fell back against the ground, breathing harshly. Legolas licked his softening flesh tenderly, not letting one drop of Aragorn’s release escape. He then covered Aragorn’s body with his own and looked down at the Man with a tender smile.

Aragorn cupped Legolas’s face with his hands. For the thousandth time, he meant to tell the Elf how much he felt for him, but he swallowed the words before they left his lips and kissed Legolas instead.

When the kiss ended, Aragorn sighed and said, “I’ll miss Lórien. I’ll miss feeling safe.”

Legolas was covering Aragorn’s entire face with slow butterfly kisses. “So will I,” he murmured.

Aragorn closed his eyes and enjoyed the sensation of Legolas’s lips moving over his face. But a little voice inside of his head said: you are no longer pulling the strings here, Aragorn. You are falling for this Elf and you know it. In your heart, you know you want more than this; more than these stolen moments. You want to make love to him. And not just because of the pleasure it would give you, but because you have lost your heart to him.

He wanted to ask the Elf so many questions. What do you see when you look at me, Legolas? Why did you choose to share your body with me? Me, of all creatures? Is it just diversion for you? Aragorn did not know how he wanted Legolas to answer that last question. ‘Yes’ would disappoint him, but ‘no’ would be even worse. He didn’t know what he would do, should the Elf tell him he loved him.

No, he told himself; Legolas knew better than to fall in love with him. Legolas knew very well that if this War ended in peace, Aragorn would marry Arwen. Legolas gave him his body, not his heart.

Right?

A little later, as they were getting ready to go back to their companions, dressing themselves, something happened. Two mallorn leaves came whirling down from the tree the couple had been lying under. Two golden leaves, the size of a man’s hand, attached to the same stem. Legolas and Aragorn both watched them come down and land silently before Legolas’s feet.

The Elf smiled delightedly at Aragorn, bent down and picked them up. He studied them for a moment, then came over to Aragorn. “Not idly do the leaves of Lórien fall,” he said enigmatically as he stood in front of the Man. He carefully separated the two leaves and handed one to Aragorn, who accepted it in surprise.

“I want you to keep this,” Legolas said. “It will keep your memory of Lórien alive after the War. You will look at it, years from now, you will remember what it was like being here, and you will know that you have a friend, even though he may be far away. I will keep the other and do the same, wherever I am.”

Aragorn, moved, knew of no better reaction than to bring the leaf to his lips and kiss it lightly. “Thank you,” he said.

“Keep it safe,” Legolas said.

“I will,” Aragorn said.

“Do you promise?” Legolas asked softly.

“Yes,” Aragorn replied, reaching out to touch Legolas’s cheek, “I promise.”

Now, fifteen years later, Aragorn looked at the leaf in his hands. That had been a beautiful moment, but it had also been very difficult. Legolas’s gesture had struck a deep chord inside of him, and it had brought down the last remainder of his defenses. He had let the Elf come close physically, but he had tried to build a wall around his heart. He could not allow himself to love Legolas!

But love could not by guided by common sense. Those two things never had anything to do with each other.

When Legolas gave him that leaf, the Elf unconsciously reached out to his heart, going straight and effortlessly through the clumsily built barrier surrounding it. It was at that very moment that Aragorn realized that instead of being the one in control, the one pulling the strings, he was the puppet on those strings. A terrifying thought. It should not have happened, but it was true.

He was in love with Legolas. Madly, overwhelmingly in love.

Later that night, as he lay among the others of the Company, Aragorn found himself unable to sleep. He lay wide-eyed, shivering even though it wasn’t cold. It had been wonderful, those days in Lórien with Legolas, but it couldn’t last. It shouldn’t last. He would leave Lórien behind him, resume the Quest, and he and Legolas would become just good friends again. Surely that was what Legolas wanted, too? It was for the best. At length, Aragorn would get over his feelings for the Elf, and all would return to normal.

He had really believed that. Of course he had; after all, it was what he wanted to believe. His heart told him something different, but he refused to listen.

To his terror, Legolas apparently did not wish for things to return to normal. Those first days after their departure from Lórien, when camping on the shore after a day of travel, Legolas would disappear into the woods, but not before he’d asked Aragorn with his eyes to join him. And Aragorn could not resist the temptation. Away from their companions, they would share kisses, but never more. Aragorn did not allow for more.

Was it too late? Had the Elf fallen in love with him? Aragorn tried to read Legolas’s eyes but they revealed nothing. For a moment, he had considered asking Legolas directly what he felt, but he did not have the courage. And then Aragorn had done the stupidest thing he’d ever done in his entire life: he had decided to end this quickly by keeping his distance. No more excursions into the forest, no more stolen kisses, nothing at all.

He’d really thought it had been the right thing to do. It wouldn’t have been fair towards Legolas if he’d continued being intimate with him. The sooner this was over, the better. But by the Valar, could he have chosen a more ungainly way to bring it to an end? In his heart, he knew he owed Legolas an explanation; but he’d been too much of a coward to discuss it with the Elf.

He had only succeeded in keeping them apart physically. His desire nor his love for Legolas had ever gone away. They had always been a part of him.

Legolas had not understood his sudden change of mood. Aragorn no longer followed him into the forest, no longer allowed the two of them to be alone. The Elf’s eyes asked him the question his lips could not: why? But Aragorn hadn’t given any explanation. In his foolishness, he’d hoped that ignoring the matter would eventually make the both of them forget what happened and move on. A childish tactic, and not very effective.

He often felt Legolas’s eyes on him when they paddled downstream. Aragorn was in the leading boat with Frodo and Sam, while Legolas was in one of the following boats with Gimli. He’d ignored it, suppressing the urge to look back. He spoke little with the Elf those days, for he found it hard to look Legolas straight in the eye.

And then that horrible day after their adventure at Sarn Gebir. Aragorn had felt like taking someone with him on his excursion, and it wasn’t more than logical that Legolas would go with him. The Elf was a swift walker and his keen senses could be very useful. And so they were alone again, for the first time in many days. To Aragorn’s relief, the Elf had asked him no questions, but concentrated on finding a track. As they were searching the woods, Aragorn found himself eyeing Legolas’s body hungrily. The contours of his body were faintly perceptible under his Mirkwood clothing, and Aragorn found it very arousing. His hands itched to remove every piece of clothing and lay bare that beautiful body inch by inch. As he searched the ground for tracks, he let his mind form a very lively image of what he would do.

First, he would remove the bow and quiver by opening the clasp on Legolas’s chest. The long Lórien cloak would soon follow. He would make Legolas sit on his knees and start opening the fastenings of the hard leather vambraces Legolas was wearing. He would remove the belt around Legolas’s waist and then concentrate on the laces of Legolas’s two-toned jerkin. As soon as that garment was removed, he would take a moment to admire the muscles of Legolas’s upper body, barely concealed by the silver-colored, embroidered tunic. But in the end, the tunic would have to go, too. And then he would make the Elf lie back on the ground in order to remove the boots. Legolas would be breathing quickly in anticipation by then And with good reason, for Aragorn would hook his fingers beneath the waistband of the grey leggings and slowly shove the garment down the Elf’s legs, until Legolas would lie completely naked.

Aragorn took a shaky breath. This fantasy should stop, here and now. But his mind was already picturing what would happen next. He would gently spread Legolas’s legs and kneel between them. He would make Legolas lift one leg high and let the Elf’s calf rest on his shoulder. And then he would let his fingertips explore; beginning at the hollow of Legolas’s knee, where the skin was sensitive, and then upwards over the Elf’s inner thigh. Legolas would shift impatiently, but before Aragorn would give him what he wanted, he would linger on the small birthmark that sat high on the Elf’s inner thigh and had always fascinated Aragorn.

And then he would reach out and softly touch Legolas’s sacs, caressing them and weighing them on his fingers. The Elf would draw in his breath, perhaps even moan softly. That was where Aragorn’s fingers’ path would end… for now. First, he would let his lips and tongue follow the exact same path his fingers had treaded before. In the end, Legolas would be gasping his name, telling him in incoherent sentences how badly he wanted Aragorn to lick that most vulnerable part of him.

At that point, he and Legolas had found the track leading to the landing. Enormous relief washed over him, and for no reason at all, he had taken Legolas into his arms. He had acted on instinct, not common sense. The Elf smelled so good. And judging by the way Legolas responded to the kiss, he wanted this just as badly.

Aragorn hesitated. Why not let his fantasy come true? The idea was tempting. But there was no time! He really shouldn’t… The Quest, the Ring…

But lust took over. He pulled the Elf to the ground and removed his weaponry, faster than in his fantasy and less tender. He did not think about Arwen. He barely even thought about Legolas. The past frustrating days demanded their toll: he longed for pleasure, not tenderness. In his fantasy, he had been a patient lover; but this was not his fantasy, this was reality, and fact was that he burned with desire for this Elf. He could feel the proof pulse between his legs.

He yanked Legolas’s leggings down his thighs and started pleasuring the Elf with his mouth. He removed Legolas’s leggings completely, together with the boots, and continued to lick and tease until Legolas writhed and moaned in pleasure. Oh yes, the Elf was willing.

Gods, how badly Aragorn longed to open his trousers and claim Legolas completely! He had no idea what it would feel like but he suspected it would be blissful. To fully sheathe himself in that supple, hot and willing body… He didn’t think Legolas would protest. One thing kept him from actually doing it though: the touch of cool metal on his collarbones. Arwen’s pendant.

And then it happened. In his ecstasy, Legolas was constantly moaning and gasping words of encouragement and Aragorn barely registered their meaning, but this he heard very clearly.

“I love you.”

Aragorn’s heart stopped beating there for a moment. No, he couldn’t possibly have heard correctly. He looked at Legolas, but the Elf lay with his eyes closed. Damn it, Legolas, he thought; you can’t love me. You can’t!

Now, fifteen years later, Aragorn understood why this had frightened him so. As long as their affair was just a bit of fun to Legolas, Aragorn was safe. They would have their fun as long as they both felt like it, and when the time had come, they would both go their ways. Aragorn would not have to feel guilty towards him for marrying Arwen. But if Legolas loved him, actually returned his feelings, then difficult times were at hand, very difficult times. He and Legolas had no future together, it was impossible. He would have to turn down the Elf. Would that break Legolas’s heart… and kill him?

Aragorn retreated, letting Legolas’s cock slip from his mouth. He feared that if he would continue pleasuring Legolas thus, the Elf would, in his delirium, cry out those words again. And Aragorn did not want to hear them. He wanted to believe he had heard wrong.

In his frustration, he had made yet another wrong decision. He had made Legolas pleasure him in the same manner, and he had done it so forcefully that he’d hurt the Elf. He was so absorbed by the sensation of being so intimately encased in Legolas’s throat, that he had needed Legolas’s resistance to tell him he was being brutal.

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

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

And still Aragorn had not understood, even though the hurt expression on the Elf’s face had been impossible to miss. Aragorn now covered his face with his hands; gods, what a fool he had been! He had been so focused on pursuing his pleasure, so concentrated on trying to make this a round of shallow, emotionless sex while it was not, that Legolas’s feelings had completely escaped his attention.

He had tried to make Legolas complete the act, but Legolas had asked him accusingly what had gotten into him. He didn’t exactly remember what he had said then, but he remembered very well what Legolas’s words had been.

“This is not pleasure,” Legolas had said, “this is pain.”

Aragorn had looked at Legolas and what he saw finally got through to him. Legolas was sitting in front of him, leaning on one arm. He sat with his legs to the side, pressing them together protectively, almost like a woman wearing a dress would do. With one hand, he tried to cover his arousal with the flaps of his jerkin. But what touched Aragorn the most was the pain in Legolas’s eyes. Pain mixed with disappointment. Aragorn felt instantly and painfully guilty. He had made a – very lousy – attempt to offer his apologies; and then, instead of gently taking Legolas in his arms and telling him how sorry he was, as he should have done, he had said something about ‘finishing it’ the way Legolas wanted.

“Elbereth Gilthoniel,” Aragorn sighed, “how stupid can you be, Aragorn?”

Legolas had made it very clear that he – naturally – did not wish to continue. For a moment, anger had prevailed in Aragorn, but he had then grimly accepted his defeat. A very uncomfortable silence had followed as they both got dressed. A thousand different emotions had flooded Aragorn’s mind as he stood there – anger, disappointment, guilt, despair, love… And then, in his stupidity, he had used his old tactic: he had run away from his problems.

Aragorn laughed scornfully. Oh yes, the brave and mighty Aragorn had fled from the scene. And it had been a long flight, a flight of fifteen years. But the past had caught up with him in the end.

Legolas had tried to talk with him, but he had brushed him off. Aragorn had continued to use the ‘run and hide’-tactic he was so familiar with, and in doing this, he had hurt Legolas even more. In his confusion, he’d said things he didn’t mean. And he’d still tried hard to make himself believe Legolas did not love him, even though he’d clearly heard the words.

Their affair had ended that day. And their friendship had ended as well. And it had solely been Aragorn’s fault. Gods, why had he hurt Legolas so? Aragorn hated himself for his stupidity, for what he had done to the Elf he so loved.

After a while, Legolas no longer tried to discuss it with him. They barely spoke, and some of the glares Legolas gave him could have frozen a Balrog. For besides hurt, Legolas was also clearly angry. Aragorn remembered well the day the Fellowship had fallen apart. Frodo had asked for some time alone to decide which way he would go, and the others had stayed by the River while Frodo wandered off. They talked together, discussing what would be the wisest decision, what the best course: the way to Minas Tirith, or the way east, to Mordor. All agreed that Frodo faced a difficult decision.

“Which way would any of us choose in Frodo’s place?” Aragorn had said at one point. “I do not know. Now indeed we miss Gandalf most!” How he wished the wise wizard had been there to help them with his counsel!

“Grievous is our loss,” Legolas said. “Yet we must make up our minds without his aid. Why cannot we decide, and so help Frodo? Let us call him back and then vote. I should vote for Minas Tirith.”

“And so should I,” Gimli said. “I would choose Minas Tirith, but if Frodo does not, then I follow him.”

“And I too will go with him,” Legolas said. “It would be faithless now to say farewell.”

“It would indeed be a betrayal, if we all left him,” Aragorn said. “But if he goes east, then all need not go with him; nor do I think that all should. That venture is desperate: as much so for eight as for three or two, or one alone. If you would let me choose, then I should appoint three companions: Sam, who could not bear it otherwise; and Gimli; and myself.”

Legolas’s head snapped up. What? his cold glare told Aragorn. Go with Frodo, take Sam and Gimli with you, and exclude me? How dare you propose that, now that I just made it clear that I will stand by Frodo no matter where he goes? Aragorn looked away from him. Didn’t Legolas understand that it would be better if they separated for a while?

“Boromir will return to his own city,” he had continued, “where his father and his people need him; and with him the others should go, or at least Meriadoc and Peregrin, if Legolas is not willing to leave us.”

He had hesitantly looked at Legolas, who sent him a glare that told him that the Elf would indeed not be sent from Frodo’s side so easily.

But it had all turned out so differently. Frodo and Sam had gone to Mordor on their own, Merry and Pippin had been captured, and Boromir had been slain. Aragorn had decided to shove his personal worries to the side, concentrate on saving Merry and Pippin instead of his problems with Legolas.

After a while, the strain between them had eased a little, but things had never returned to the way they used to be. The Three Hunters co-operated as a team, saved each other’s lives on several occasions, but he and Legolas had never made up, and had never become friends again. In Gondor, Legolas had heard the cry of those cursed gulls, and from that moment on, he could not forget the Sea; just like Galadriel had predicted. The Elf had attended the wedding ceremony of Aragorn and Arwen with an even expression. Afterwards, he had come to them; he had congratulated Arwen with a smile, and then Aragorn, also with a smile, but a less heartfelt one.

After the wedding, Legolas and Gimli had left together, and Aragorn had never seen Legolas again. Tidings came to him after a while, saying that Legolas had returned from Mirkwood and settled in Ithilien with others of his kin. Aragorn was content with his life, loved Arwen, but his heart ached for Legolas, who was so close, and yet so far away. He found himself thinking of Legolas at the most inappropriate moments. Sometimes he would crawl into bed and snuggle up to Arwen, and then he would inhale the scent of her hair and compare it to the scent of Legolas’s hair. And to his embarassment, Legolas’s name was one of the first things to enter his head the night that Eldarion was born. As Aragorn held his newborn son in his arms for the first time, Aragorn caught himself missing Legolas terribly and wishing the Elf had been there. Not as a lover, but as a friend. The friend he’d always been. In Ithilien, Legolas would hear of the birth of Gondor’s heir, but he would not be there to celebrate it with Aragorn. A week later, a letter had arrived from Caras Gwedeir, in which the Council, on behalf of all the city’s inhabitants, congratulated Aragorn and Arwen with the birth of their son. The letter was written in Faramir’s hand. Legolas had only signed his name.

Years passed and no word from Legolas. Aragorn did not blame him. His heart told him to contact Legolas himself, but he refused to listen. Again. He ignored his fear that Legolas would leave Middle-earth. He ignored his desire to repair their friendship. He ignored his sense of guilt. He ignored the pain in his heart, which told him how much he missed Legolas.

He had put the leaf from Lórien, together with Legolas’s song he’d written down, in that book shortly after his marriage and had not once looked at them after that. He had kept the leaf safe, like he had promised, but he had banished the memory of Lórien, and what had happened there from his mind, and with the progressing of time, he had forgotten about the leaf’s existence.

Until Eldarion had found it. When Aragorn looked at it in Eldarion’s room that afternoon, all those memories had come back to him, and several questions rooted in his mind: what had happened to the leaf’s brother? Did Legolas still have it? Did he look at it from time to time? Did he still think of Lórien sometimes? And Aragorn knew he had to go to Caras Gwedeir and find out the answers. He had been fleeing long enough.

And now he sat here on his bed, the festival over and still he didn’t have the answers. Resolve suddenly hardened within him once more. Enough of playing hide and seek. Enough of seeking excuses. He would go to Legolas and open up to him… now. Aragorn put the leaf in the book again, determinedly stood from his bed and left the room, the book under his arm.

It was time.

~Part Ten: The Things I Didn’t Say~

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

Haldir:

Haldir had indeed gone to Legolas after dinner. After yesterday’s incident on the archery range, Haldir was greatly worried and he needed to know if Legolas was all right. He eventually found Legolas in the deserted courtyard, kneeling by the pool.

“Haldir,” Legolas said, looking up, “how was dinner? You have returned so quickly.”

Haldir stood a few meters from him and folded his arms. “Dinner was fine. But I missed someone.”

Legolas averted his eyes. “I didn’t feel like company.”

“Elessar obviously missed you, too,” Haldir said matter-of-factly.

“Oh, did he?” Legolas said evenly.

Haldir sighed. “Sarcasm does not become you, Legolas. This has to stop. I mean it. Don’t you see how hard you are making this for yourself?”

Legolas remained silent.

“Elessar will leave the day after tomorrow,” Haldir continued. “Go to him, talk it over, or you will regret it later.”

“No”, Legolas said, shaking his head, “I tried to talk to him fifteen years ago, I tried over and over again, and he wouldn’t listen. Now let him come to me if he has something to say.”

Haldir sighed again. “You always were a little on the stubborn side, Legolas.”

“I’m not stubborn. But I have my sense of honour. I’ll listen to him, but he’ll have to take the first step.”

“You deny him the opportunity of taking the first step.”

“That is not true.”

“Yes it is. You avoid him. Don’t deny it.”

Legolas opened his mouth to speak, but shut it again. Then he looked away. “Perhaps I do avoid him,” he said softly.

“Why?”

“I guess I’m afraid of what he will say,” came the whispered reply.

“Do not be.” Haldir came over to Legolas, made him stand and took him by the arms. “Listen to him, Legolas. You have to have a little faith in him. He is not a bad person; he has a kind and loving heart. He hurt you once, but he will not again. I am sure of that.”

Legolas looked Haldir in the eye for a moment, his eyes shimmering pools of emotion. And then he did something completely unexpected. He slowly cupped Haldir’s face with his hands and leaned in to him, not breaking eye contact. Haldir caught a glimpse of lips parting and the next moment, time seemed to stand still as Legolas kissed him. The effect this had on Haldir was overpowering. They had kissed once, no: twice before, but that had been completely different; one had been a stolen kiss while Legolas was asleep, the other had been a quick, chaste meeting of lips, also initiated by Haldir. A kiss two friends could share without complicated consequences. But this…! Haldir’s blood roared in his ears. Legolas was giving him a slow, attentive kiss, his tongue lapping sensually at Haldir’s. Haldir hadn’t even noticed that he had parted his lips to receive it into his mouth, and that his own tongue was responding, moving eagerly to stroke Legolas’s.

It was everything Haldir had always expected it to be, and more. By the gods, it felt good. Better than anything he’d ever experienced before. His heart pounded so hard, so fast that Legolas must have felt it, too. Every slow swirl of Legolas’s tongue made Haldir see stars, and he started to feel distinctly weak in the knees. Oh please, he prayed, please let this last forever.

It didn’t, of course. In the end, Legolas broke the kiss and slowly pulled away. His hands left Haldir’s face, slid down his chest and then fell away. They were both breathing heavily. Haldir stared into Legolas’s eyes, speechless. A long silence followed.

Legolas spoke first. “Forgive me,” he said softly, “I don’t know what came over me.”

Haldir let out a shaky breath. “Legolas…”

Legolas quickly sealed Haldir’s lips with a finger. “You were right, Haldir. I must stop avoiding Aragorn and open up to him. Listen to what he has to say. It is time.” He started to move backwards. “Forgive me, Haldir,” he stammered, “I’ll explain later. Really, I will.” And with a whispered “I’m sorry”, he was gone.

Haldir slowly lowered himself to the ground. His hands were trembling and his heartbeat still hadn’t returned to normal. His head spun due to all the questions that started to pop up. There were thousands of them, but three particular questions returned at least once every few seconds: why had Legolas kissed him, did he regret it, and how would this influence their friendship? He would have to wait for the answers. Legolas was off to Aragorn, he guessed, and who knew how that would pass off?

Haldir was lost now. He knew that. If there had been some hope left in him that he had not fallen in love with Legolas, it was gone now. Sweet Valar, that kiss… Would he ever experience something like that again? Haldir sat still for a few minutes, but then sprang up. He would not stay here. He would go out and return later. He definitely needed some fresh air to clear his head.

Legolas:

Legolas had not gone straight to Aragorn; he had gone to his own room first. There, he paced back and forth, contemplating on what to do. Life was getting more complicated every passing minute, it seemed.

Or, more specific, his love life. Weren’t Aragorn and Merilin enough? Did he have to complicate his friendship with Haldir now, too?

Why had he kissed Haldir, anyway? His friend’s words of comfort had touched him, true; the Lórien Elf had been so incredibly kind and caring in the past two months. Legolas’s heart softened as he remembered everything Haldir had done. He really had been there for Legolas, like a true friend. Legolas was thankful. But still, that was no valid reason to give Haldir such an intimate kiss.

In his heart, Legolas thought he understood. In the past fifteen years, he had longed for someone to be with. Someone to talk to, to go riding with, or make long walks. Someone’s arms to sleep in at night, someone to make love to. Someone he could completely trust. It sounded cheeky, girlish, but it was the truth. He wanted to love again, trust again. But he was so afraid of getting hurt again, that he’d allowed no one to come close. Possible bed partners were plentiful, but Legolas was no longer the Elf who would settle for shallow, emotionless sex. No, it would be a strong, lasting relationship with someone he could share his soul with, or no relationship at all.

And so he’d slept alone every night, haunted by the memories of that dreadful day. His heart had grown cold, distrustful. He’d let no one even touch him in all those years. And then Merilin had shown up. Despite his resolution not to enter into a temporary sexual bond with anyone, she had needed only one kiss to make that resolution shake on its fundaments. When she had kissed him, she’d felt so familiar, so sweet and comfortingly feminine, that Legolas had not been able, or even willing, to offer resistance. With that kiss, and the things that followed, she’d poured some warmth into his heart again. He had thoroughly enjoyed the hours spent with her and he was thankful for her comfort, but the knowledge that she would never be his kept him from sharing his soul with her. It saddened him, but he had no other option.

Haldir. At what point had some part of his brain decided to kiss the Lórien Elf, and why? Before Merilin came, he had not shared a kiss with anyone in fifteen years. And why such an intimate kiss, a kiss of lovers? He could have given Haldir a hug, or a kiss on the cheek. Legolas’s hand spun. His body still wore the evidence of what Merilin had done to him the night before, his heart whispered Aragorn’s name, and yet he had felt the desire to kiss Haldir. And he had enjoyed it. Imagining doing it again made his body tingle.

He had to explain things to Haldir, even though he didn’t really have an explanation. He owed it to his friend. But first, he had to go find Aragorn. Haldir was right. He had let his heart linger in the shadows long enough. He wanted to make peace. It was true that Aragorn had hurt him, but Legolas had not been easy on him either. He too had something to apologize for.

Legolas left the room and walked down the quiet corridors, determined to go to Faramir’s palace, to Aragorn’s room. The prospect of facing Aragorn and say what he had to say was a frightening one, but he had to do it. The sooner, the better. He started trotting; he ran down stairs, taking three steps at a time, reached a junction, turned left… and bumped into someone.

The other had been walking in a calmer pace and was taken completely by surprise. He tried to jump away, but Legolas’s body collided with his and they both tumbled to the floor. So far for elven grace, Legolas thought as he fell heavily on the other. He wanted to apologize, but then he stiffened and scrambled quickly to his feet. He had recognized Aragorn’s scent before he had seen his face.

“Oh, Aragorn, I’m sorry,” he said. He held out his hand and helped Aragorn stand.

“No, it’s my fault,” Aragorn said, rubbing his chest where Legolas’s elbow had bored into his flesh.

“Does it hurt?” Legolas asked with concern.

“It will be a bruise, I think,” Aragorn said with a little smile, “but don’t worry about it. I deserved it.”

When Legolas looked at him quizzically, he said softly, “Pain was one of the elements that characterized our relationship, Legolas. It was about time you paid me back.”

Legolas held his breath for a moment. That was the most direct reference Aragorn had made to their past until now. “It wasn’t always pain,” Legolas said, slowly shaking his head. “It was pleasure before that.”

“Too much pain,” Aragorn said sadly, “not enough pleasure.”

Legolas felt how a lump slowly started to form in his throat. Aragorn searched the floor, then bent down and picked up a book he had been holding before he collided with Legolas. He then looked at the Elf again. “I need to talk to you, Legolas,” he said seriously. “I dare to hope you will have a moment for me, even though the swiftness of your steps tells me you were in a hurry.”

“Only in a hurry to get to you,” Legolas said, “and I found you even sooner than expected. Please, speak.”

“Not here.” Aragorn looked around. “I’d prefer something more private.”

Legolas opened a nearby door and motioned for Aragorn to step inside. “Don’t worry,” he said when Aragorn looked doubtfully. “It’s an empty guest room, we won’t be disturbed.”

Once the door closed behind them, they stood in front of each other, more than a meter apart. The room was semi-dark, which could have been awkward, but somehow it seemed fitting. They could look each other in the eye and that was enough. Legolas tried to ignore the drum of his pounding heart; what was Aragorn going to say?

“Legolas,” Aragorn began, “I’ve had fifteen years to think of a way to say what I have to say, and still I don’t know one. So I’ll just begin, hoping you will forgive me my inarticulateness.” He sighed, and when Legolas did not reply, continued. “First of all, Legolas, you must know that the hours we spent together in Lórien and the things we did, were very precious to me. I needed comfort and you gave it freely. Your words, your embrace, your kisses, they poured strength into me. Not even Arwen could have comforted me the way you did. As one of the Fellowship and a warrior yourself, you understood like no other what I was going through. When I was in your arms, I felt safe, strong, loved… It was bliss and yet it frightened me. My thoughts were very complicated but it basically came down to this: I was falling in love with you but I didn’t want to admit it.”

That was the first time Aragorn spoke of love. Legolas looked Aragorn in the eye, and the sincerity and emotion that lay in those blue-grey pools told Legolas that the Man was speaking the truth. The love had been mutual. That realization struck him hard, and he felt a sting in his eyes.

“We never spoke of our true feelings,” Aragorn continued, “and I regret that, now. It could have saved us much sorrow. I meant to tell you how much I loved you every time we were together, but I never did. Putting it into words would have meant admitting it, and I thought, as long as I didn’t say the words, it wasn’t true. It was the most foolish thing I’ve ever done. But our last night in Lórien, you gave me the final blow. You gave me that leaf, spoke those beautiful words to me, and after that, I could no longer deny my love for you. But still I was thinking I could make things undone! I should have told you about my fears and uncertainties; I should have asked you if we could stop being lovers and become friends again – even though that was the very last thing I wanted -, but I did none of those things. I decided to end our affair silently, hoping you would understand, and that was the stupidest decision I ever made. I ignored you, and I could see it hurt you, but I pretended I didn’t see. I dreamed of you at night, I longed to feel your body close to mine, but I tried to ignore that. I thought I would get over my feelings for you that way, and I told myself it was for the best. I tried to tell myself I had your best interest at heart as well, but in reality, I was being selfish. I was so absorbed by my own worries that I paid no attention to your pain. That was unforgivable. But I had yet to make my worst and most catastrophic mistake: during our excursion the day after Sarn Gebir.”

Aragorn paused and Legolas looked away from him. This would be the most difficult part of their discussion. The recollection of that day was still so embarrassing, so humiliating… it hadn’t haunted his dreams in the past years for nothing.

“I can see it hurts you even to think of it,” Aragorn said softly. “Do you want to hear what I have to say about it?”

“Yes,” Legolas sighed.

“Firstly, let me tell you that when I asked you to come with me, I did not mean to attack you in any way. It was not a scheme of some sort. But I did not wish to go alone and of all the companions, you were most fit for the task. So I asked you to come, and told myself I would be strong enough to resist the temptation of your company. I was wrong once again. It may have seemed I was concentrating fully on our task, but I barely thought of anything but you. I was thinking so strongly of you that by the time we found that track, I was…” Aragorn’s voice trailed off for a moment, and the Man blushed, apparently feeling embarrassed. “… I was aroused,” he continued. “That is, I’m afraid, the only explanation I can give you, and I know it is a lousy one. It was wrong what I did, terribly wrong. You deserved tenderness, love, but I gave you none. I was possessed by my desire for you, my frustration, and I forced you to do things you wouldn’t have done if you had had the choice. I pretended that it was my wish to give you pleasure, but it was pleasure edged with pain. And then… then you told me you loved me, Legolas.”

Legolas stared into Aragorn’s eyes and swallowed. “Yes, I did,” he said hoarsely. “I thought you had forgotten that.”

“How could I forget that? It was all I wanted to hear, and yet I didn’t want to hear it again. I wanted to believe I had misheard you. Your love for me could end in nothing but pain and disappointment. I was angry with myself for putting you in this position and I took out my anger on you. I was determined to deny my feelings for you, and maybe, unconsciously, I wanted to show you how unworthy I was of your love. And I was also consumed by lust. When you resisted me, I barely understood why. I was frustrated at the interruption; still I was blind for your pain. When I finally, finally realized what I had done, I felt guilty. That sounds awfully plain, but it is the truth. I was ashamed and I hated myself. I had hurt the being I loved most in this entire world. But did I offer my apologies? No, I did not. My heart told me to take you into my arms, tell you how terribly sorry I was, beg you for forgiveness… but I did none of these things.”

Aragorn started talking faster, louder; anger marred his words. “And then I fled, Legolas. I fled from you, my feelings, my troubles. I should have known better. You can’t flee from your troubles; they come with you, wherever you go. But you were wiser; you tried to discuss it with me. That made me feel even more guilty, and I pushed you away. I – I said terrible things to you. I assume you haven’t forgotten those, Legolas…” The Man blushed even deeper.

“No,” Legolas said softly, “I remember them very well.”

“I don’t expect this to comfort you,” Aragorn said, “but let me assure you that I did not mean a syllable of them. I so desperately wanted to flee from your hurt eyes, that I, without thinking, used the most brutal way to scare you off. I did not care for your feelings, I only cared for mine. I – I still don’t understand why I acted the way I did. I was scared, but that is no excuse. I had never thought of myself as a selfish person.”

“Neither had I,” Legolas said softly. “Because you never were one.”

“And yet I did the most selfish thing imaginable. I let you suffer in order to make myself feel less miserable. Only later I realized how wrong that was. I should have opened up to you. I should have given you the opportunity to tell me what you felt. But by the time I realized this, it was too late. We were no longer lovers. But we were also no longer friends.”

“And then you heard the cry of the gull,” Aragorn continued. “From that day on, I have always feared you would leave Middle-earth, especially when you came to live in Ithilien, so close to the Sea. In Minas Tirith, I often thought of you. Of the friendship we once had. And I missed you. I missed spending time with you. Yet it took me fifteen years before I realized something had to be done. And do you know what, Legolas? If it hadn’t been for sheer coincidence, or fate, or whatever you want to call it, I would probably be in Minas Tirith right now, still living the life of a fool.”

“Rulof mentioned something like that,” Legolas said softly. “He said you did not want to come at first, but changed your mind for some reason.”

“Two reasons, in fact.” Aragorn paused. “I have one of them with me. Do you want to see it?”

At Legolas’s silent nod, he opened the book he had been holding. Slightly bewildered, Legolas waited for what would happen next, but his bewilderment disappeared when he saw what Aragorn suddenly held between his fingers.

The leaf from Lórien. Legolas recognized it instantly and the effect it had on him was unexpectedly strong. It looked much the same like his own, and yet it was completely different. Much like Aragorn and Legolas themselves: in some ways alike in their personality, their passions; but also very different. Representing different races, born to different fates. Fates so different that even a glint of hope for a future together would be a waste of time. And yet, in times now long gone, they’d shared brief moments of love and happiness together.

“So you still have it,” Legolas said softly. “I’ve oft wondered…”

“Yes, I’ve kept it all those years,” Aragorn said, “but that is all. I put it away and never looked at it again. I even forgot about it, Legolas. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have. But Eldarion found it shortly after that messenger arrived. As soon as I saw it, I remembered everything. I instantly knew I had to come to Caras Gwedeir and do what I had to do.”

He looked at Legolas. “Do you still have yours, Legolas?” he asked hesitantly.

Legolas nodded slowly. “Yes, Aragorn. I’ve always carried it with me on my travels after the War, and here I keep it in a drawer. Sometimes I look at it, especially when the Sea-calling gets stronger and I need something to remind me of what needs to be done before I leave.” He sighed and asked, “And what was the other reason you mentioned?”

“The sea-song you sang shortly before our parting,” Aragorn replied. “I wrote it down and put it away, together with the leaf. Eldarion found it and recited it during one of his recital lessons. I remembered you so strongly then, it almost made me weep.”

Aragorn sighed. “I have been a fool, Legolas. Do you know that my foolishness almost destroyed my marriage? I spent so much energy thinking of you and feeling guilty for what I did to you, that I had barely anything left for being a good husband. Not only did I do you wrong, I did it Arwen, too.”

“Does she know, Aragorn?” Legolas asked. “Does she know about us?”

“I never told her. But I guess she found out on her own. She knows me.”

“And she did not protest when you said you wanted to go?”

“Quite the contrary. She was the one telling me to go in the first place.”

Legolas smiled a little. “That sounds like typically Arwen.”

“During my journey hither,” Aragorn said, “I spent most of my time thinking of a way to approach you. I did not know what to expect, and was nervous. In the days that followed, I waited for the right opportunity to talk to you. All the considerations that went through my head were complicated and need not be recounted here. But the most important one concerned Merilin.”

“Merilin?” Legolas frowned. “Why?”

“Arorod told me what was going on between the two of you,” Aragorn said softly. “I decided I would give you the time to say goodbye before I’d jump into action. I don’t know if that was a wise decision.”

“It was a kind thought.” Legolas looked away. “But the waiting was slowly driving me insane.”

“I am sorry,” Aragorn said softly.

“I am, too,” Legolas said. “I did not make it easier for you. I avoided you.”

“I noticed that on several occasions,” Aragorn said, “but I do not blame you. After dinner tonight, I did some deep thinking in my room and decided I had waited long enough. I was on my way to your chambers when I ran into you.”

“And I was on my way to you,” Legolas said. “There are some things I need to tell you, Aragorn.”

“I will listen to anything you wish to say to me,” Aragorn said, “but please, let me finish first.”

Legolas nodded. It seemed Aragorn wanted to resume his tale, but he hesitated.

“May I ask you a favor, Legolas?” the Man finally asked him.

“Yes, you may,” Legolas said.

“May I… this is a very strange question… May I hold your hands while I continue, Legolas?” Aragorn blushed deeply.

That was unexpected. “My hands?” Legolas said.

“I know I don’t really have the right to ask you this,” Aragorn said, blushing even harder. “But I… I…”

“But what, Aragorn?” Legolas said softly.

“It’s been fifteen years since I held your hands in mine. I have missed that,” Aragorn said. “Just that, Legolas. Let me hold your hands and I’ll be content.”

Legolas hesitantly raised his hands, and Aragorn took them in his own. When Aragorn’s warm, dry fingers closed around his hands, Legolas’s skin tingled. He’d never known that such a simple touch could be so intense.

“As you probably noticed,” Aragorn began, “I don’t have a reasonable explanation for my behaviour. And even if I had one, I don’t think that would have comforted you in any way. I have said and done unforgivable things and I can only imagine how much pain I caused you. I hate myself for it. Truly, words cannot express how guilty I feel for what I did. I have made so many mistakes; I wish I could turn back time to make them undone, but alas, I cannot. The only thing I can do, is to offer my sincere apologies.”

Legolas opened his mouth to speak, but Aragorn interrupted him.

“We had a good friendship, Legolas,” he said. “It was very precious to me, and I destroyed it. The alienation between us was purely my fault and I will blame myself for that until the day I die.”

Legolas suddenly realized that Aragorn’s thumbs were softly sliding back and forth over his hands. He held his breath at this tender caress, surprised by the effect Aragorn’s touch apparently still had on him. A proud voice inside his head scolded him, saying he should withdraw his hands, he should not let himself be touched in this manner by the Man who had hurt him so. But Legolas’s heart told him otherwise; it told him that this was right. And so, Legolas did not move his hands.

“Do you believe me when I tell you that I missed you, Legolas?” Aragorn asked him. “I lived my life in Minas Tirith; Gondor prospers, I have a wife who loves me, I have a son… and yet I have always felt incomplete, for I have lost your friendship. In my heart, I always knew what I had to do; then why didn’t I do it? I do not know. I was a coward, I was still trying to flee from the past. But I missed you, Legolas; I missed spending time with you, I missed talking to you. I really did.”

“I believe you,” Legolas said softly.

“Furthermore, know that my feelings for you were sincere. When I first touched you, that first night in Caras Galadhon, I barely knew what I was doing, that is true; but I never, never thought of you as an instrument to satiate my desires. During the day, I told myself otherwise, I admit that. But it was a way to silence my guilty conscience, nothing more. At night, when I was with you, I felt more complete than I had ever felt before. What I did after we left Lórien, I did according to my sense of duty, but it went completely against my heart’s desire. It is true what I said before: I had fallen in love with you. Do you believe that, Legolas?”

Legolas’s throat felt dry. The sincerity in Aragorn’s eyes told him the Man was not lying. “Yes,” he whispered.

Aragorn squeezed Legolas’s hands softly. “One last thing. That terrible day, when I ended our affair so brutally, I said something to you, something horrible. I said – I said…” Aragorn hesitated.

“You said I disgusted you,” Legolas completed monotonuously.

“Yes,” Aragorn said with a sigh. “It wasn’t true, of course. I wasn’t disgusted with you, I was disgusted with myself, but I took it out on you. It was a cruel and heartless thing to do. Believe me, Legolas – you are a beautiful, enchanting being, and nothing, absolutely nothing justifies the way I treated you. I alone am to blame for what happened. You must know that.”

He continued, “I truly loved you, Legolas. And, I don’t know if you want to hear this, but you deserve to know the truth… I don’t think I ever stopped loving you. Arwen knew it before I did; she said that a part of my heart will never be hers. And I’m afraid she is right; for that part belongs to you alone.”

Legolas bowed his head and suddenly became aware of warm tears sliding down his cheeks. When did he start crying?

“I guess I’ll have to learn live with that,” Aragorn continued. “But that is not important now. The most important thing, what I came here for, is to beg you for forgiveness and ask you whether you think friendship between us will be possible again.”

“You don’t have to answer now, Legolas,” Aragorn said, “and I will understand if your answer will be ‘no’. I will go back to Minas Tirith and never bother you again if that is what you wish. But you would make me the happiest man in Middle-earth if you gave me the opportunity to really make up for what I did by being your friend again.”

Legolas was silent for a little while, his mind spinning due to all the things Aragorn had said. Finally, he said, “Before I answer that question, will you listen to what I have to tell you?”

Aragorn nodded, and Legolas started telling him his side of the story. How he had slowly fallen in love with Aragorn. How meaningful their hours together in Lórien had been for him. How uncertain he had felt when Aragorn had started ignoring him. How relieved he had been when Aragorn had embraced him in the forest, and how that relief gradually had changed in discomfort. That he had been going from sorrow to anger and back to sorrow again in the weeks that followed, and that, in the end, ignoring Aragorn’s existence had seemed the easiest way.

Legolas sighed. “That was my mistake, Aragorn. I should have been wiser than that. I was fleeing, too.”

Aragorn shook his head. “No. Nothing you would have done would have changed the course of events. I was in Denial with the capital ‘D’ and would not have listened to anything you said.”

Legolas did not linger long on the pain he’d gone through the past years, he did not mention the embarrassment he had suffered almost every night at his own hands, nor did he tell Aragorn about what had happened on the archery range the day before; he did not want to make Aragorn feel even more guilty than he did now. But Aragorn immediately put the finger on the sore spot.

“And your love life, Legolas?”  he asked softly.

Legolas froze. “My love life?”

“Yes. I’ve often wondered, hoped that you would find happiness with someone else. The thought made me jealous, rather stupidly, but deep inside, I wished for you to be happy. Were you?”

Legolas hesitated. “You don’t have to spare me, Legolas,” Aragorn said with a wry smile. “Tell me the truth.”

“I have not let anyone in my heart or in my bed since our parting,” Legolas said stiffly, “except for Merilin, the past few nights.”

“Not anyone?” Aragorn exclaimed, and Legolas bowed his head. “Oh, Legolas,” he said, “you were truly unhappy, weren’t you? And then there was the Sea-longing also… Oh, I should have come earlier! I should have…”

“Ssh,” Legolas interrupted, “don’t go there. You’ve come now, that’s what counts.”

“I don’t know what I would have done if you had left Middle-earth,” Aragorn said. “I would never have forgiven myself.” He sighed. “But I am interrupting your story. Please continue.”

“That’s about it,” Legolas shrugged. “Not a day has passed without me thinking of you, but I, too, was afraid to visit you. Sometimes I was close to giving in to the calling of the Sea, but somehow the thought of you kept me here.”

“Thank the gods,” Aragorn sighed.

“And I owe much to my friends,” Legolas said. “Gimli, Merilin, but most of all Haldir. He has been incredibly kind to me. I don’t know how I would have lived through the weeks preceding the festival without him.”

“He is a good friend to you,” Aragorn acknowledged.

“Yes.” Legolas smiled a little. “Now, about your question, Aragorn… I thank you for telling me your side of the story. Much has become clear to me. I won’t deny that I have been through sorrowful years, but it can not be changed. You have come, and I am thankful for that, now. I accept your apologies; I wish the strain between us to go away. I want to be your friend again.”

Aragorn stared at him in mild disbelief. “Do you – do you really… I mean, just like that? Don’t you want to strike me, shout at me? It’s nothing more than I deserve. I was prepared for that. After all those years, I gathered some frustration is begging to be let out. Is it not so? Wouldn’t that make you feel better? If so, I advise you to seize this opportunity and do it now.” He smiled wryly.

“I almost get the impression it would make you feel better,” Legolas said. He smiled briefly, but then his face turned serious again. “I have been angry at you, Aragorn, I admit that, and in my imagination, I have scolded you a million times. But I’ve had enough of anger,” he said tiredly. “I don’t want to punish you. From now on, I want to concentrate on positive emotions.” His eyes met Aragorn’s. “And on rebuilding our friendship.”

Legolas gently removed his hands from Aragorn’s, and did a step in the Man’s direction. Then he embraced Aragorn. The Man immediately returned the embrace, clasping his arms around Legolas’s shoulders. Firmly, as if he would never let go again. “I am so sorry, Legolas,” he said, sounding strangled, “but I will make up. I promise you. By my blood, I promise you.”

“I know,” Legolas said, leaning in to the embrace and closing his eyes. He then murmured, “I never stopped loving you, Aragorn.”

He could hear Aragorn hold his breath. “Even though I hear you speak the words, I can hardly believe they’re true,” the Man said.

“It’s all so complicated,” Legolas said. “Do you think it will hinder us in our friendship?”

“We will manage,” Aragorn assured him. After a short silence, he asked, “Why haven’t you given your love to anyone all those years?”

“I no longer care for flings,” Legolas said softly, resting his cheek against Aragorn’s shoulder.

“And no one was available for something more long-term?” Aragorn said, softly stroking Legolas’s scalp.

“No one I could have been happy with.” Legolas smiled. “No tall, dark, handsome ranger types.”

Aragorn pulled slightly back. The firmness of his embrace eased and he rested his hands on Legolas’s shoulders. There was a strong emotion in his eyes. “I’m sorry,” Legolas said. “It’s complicated enough as it is. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“Quite the contrary,” Aragorn said, “the words have warmed my heart.”

“For the past years, you have been holding my heart in your hands, Aragorn,” Legolas said. “You must set it free first, before I will be able to love again.”

Aragorn smiled sadly. He studied Legolas’s face for a moment, a thoughtful expression on his face. Finally, he said, “I’m going to ask you to promise me something, Legolas. Two things, in fact.”

“What are they?”

“My first question concerns your Sea-longing. I’m not sure if I have the right to ask you this, but I will ask it all the same. Do you think you will be able to resist the calling for a little while longer?” Aragorn’s eyes begged the Elf. “Now that I just got your friendship back, I don’t think I would bear it if you left for the Undying Lands now. I no longer want to be afraid of that. Can you promise me that?”

Legolas looked at him in surprise. Yes, the Sea-longing… He lowered his eyes for a moment, wondering is he could promise the Man that, and keep that promise. To his amazement, he found that the pain in his heart had faded. He knew instinctively that only a few more days were needed to let it disappear completely. And as for Middle-earth… that suddenly seemed like a place of so much more beauty than before. The calling had changed into a weak whisper. Legolas felt so much lighter.

Legolas looked up at Aragorn and smiled. “I promise you, Aragorn, that I will not leave this Middle-earth as long as you are alive.”

Aragorn started to smile delightedly. “Do you mean that?”

“Yes, I mean that.” Legolas’s hands settled on Aragorn’s shoulder. “Now, what is the second promise you want me to make?”

“I want you to promise me…” Aragorn’s voice trailed off and the Man shifted on his feet, having difficulty finding the right words. “The next time someone offers you love, think before you react. If this person is good, and kind, and sincere in his or her affection for you, do not immediately turn him down. Consider it. You deserve love.”

Legolas smiled a little. “Are you saying this because you feel guilty, Aragorn?”

“Not only because I feel guilty. You deserve to be happy; find someone who can make you. You have so much love to give. It would be such a shame to let that go to waste. Now tell me how I can set your heart free, like you said.”

Legolas leaned forward and their bodies automatically joined in an embrace again. “Well,” Legolas said, “your words have done much already. And these embraces loosen and oil my squeaky and rusty heart.”

“Do they?” Aragorn nuzzled against Legolas’s temple. “Oh, Legolas; I’m so glad we finally talked about this. I want you to be happy. I’m sorry about the situation with Merilin.”

“I’ve always known it would end like this,” Legolas said. “We shared something special and I miss her, but I never allowed myself to pine over something that would never be. I must look for happiness elsewhere.”

Aragorn smiled. “So it’s a promise then?”

“I promise I’ll try,” Legolas sighed.

“Good enough.”

They stood like this for what seemed hours; arms around each other, foreheads resting against each other, blond hair touching black. As he listened to Aragorn’s breathing, Legolas felt warmth spreading through his body and limbs. He hadn’t felt this peaceful in years. Was this really all that was needed to end the torment?

Yes, apparently it was. Legolas could barely believe it was over now. One thing still needed to be done though, and that thing concerned Haldir. Not only would the Lórien Elf have to hear how things had been settled between Legolas and Aragorn, Legolas would also have to explain that kiss earlier that evening.

If only he had an explanation.

“Aragorn,” he mumbled.

“Hm-mm?”

“Do you regret becoming intimate with me in Lórien? Have you ever regretted that?”

“There were moments when I wished I had been stronger, and able to resist the attraction. I thought that we wouldn’t have had to go through all this if that had been so. But I know better now. I would always have longed for you, even if we hadn’t lain together. I would have had difficulties in my marriage even without that.”

“I’m sorry for being the cause of those difficulties.”

“Not necessary. Do you know what I believe, Legolas? I believe we were meant to comfort each other in Lórien. It felt too good, too perfect to be forbidden. I don’t regret it. I’m thankful for having experienced such a thing.”

Their bodies seemed to have melted into one by now. Life in the Undying Lands couldn’t possibly be better than this, Legolas thought.

“Despite all the bad things, the past few days were nice,” Aragorn said. “It was good to be together again with the others of the Fellowship.”

“Yes,” Legolas smiled, “it was. Let us enjoy that one last day together, tomorrow. Who knows when we will all be together again?”

After a short silence: “Legolas.”

“Yes?”

“When you told me you loved me, that day in the forest… I know it didn’t look like it, but a subconscious part of me was happy, so happy when you said that.”

“Really?”

“Yes. And when we were in Lórien, I was constantly tempted to tell you the same thing. I really was. Gods, how often those words almost left my lips! I’ve lost count. And I don’t say those words easily. I truly meant them.”

“That is good to hear,” Legolas smiled.

“How did you come to the realization you loved me, Legolas?”

“That was a strange sensation,” Legolas said. “We’d been friends for a long time. It were the little things that made me realize it: feeling more self-aware in your presence, feeling my heart flutter whenever you gave me a look that lasted longer than two seconds, and the urge to touch and kiss you…” His voice trailed off, and before he knew it, he leaned slightly back and looked Aragorn in the face.

“What?” Aragorn asked him. “What is it?”

“Aragorn,” Legolas said hurriedly, “do you think it’s always wisest to listen to your heart’s voice?”

Aragorn frowned. “Well, I’m glad you haven’t given in to your heart’s desire to sail west, but as for me, my heart was always wiser than me. When I first touched you in Lórien, I did what my heart told me to.”

“But it can cause pain, and disappointment,” Legolas said.

“It won’t as long as you act wisely and do what’s right. If I had done that, then we wouldn’t have had such difficult years behind us. It is unwise to rely only on your heart, but if you listen to it, it can give you good advice. You only have to handle it wisely.”

Legolas nodded thoughtfully. “So listen to your heart, but act wisely and do what’s right,” he repeated.

“Exactly. But may I ask what this is about?”

“Aragorn,” Legolas said slowly, “there is something I need to do, and I have to do it now.”

“All right.” Aragorn looked surprised, but he did not ask any further questions. “Will I see you again tonight?”

“It depends,” Legolas said. “If not, then we’ll speak again tomorrow. There is not much time left for us and I want to spend it well.” He took Aragorn’s hands and looked the Man in the eye. “Thank you for everything, Aragorn. Thank you for being so honest; I – I am happy now.”

“That is better than I could have hoped,” Aragorn said.

They left the room, both smiling.

~Part Eleven: Look At Me Now~

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

Legolas:

Legolas’s step was lighter as he made his way out of the palace. Aragorn had gone back to Faramir’s palace to visit the Hobbits, together with Gimli. The Dwarf had seen the two of them approach and he had beamed with happiness at seeing the friendship restored. He had given both of them a spontaneous hug. Then, he had taken Legolas apart.

“So,” he had said, “our little sea-trip has been delayed, I gather?” Once, the Dwarf had said that he would go with Legolas should he set out from Middle-earth, and Legolas had not contradicted this, and since then this was a silent agreement between them.

“Yes,” Legolas smiled.

“Good,” Gimli said, “I’m not done here yet anyway. Unfinished business.”

Haldir had not been in his room, and he had also left the courtyard after Legolas had left him standing there. Legolas figured his friend had gone out for a walk. Valar, that Elf really liked walking!

His conversation with Aragorn had made Legolas realize something. Something that had been happening right under his nose, but he had not been willing to admit. Even now, it was hard to believe. Was it true? Was he not desperately looking for something that did not exist? The rapid beating of his heart told him it was not so, as did the swiftness of his steps. Anticipation. Gladness. But also a hint of fear. But he allowed himself no ‘what-if’s’. Not anymore.

He found Haldir on the pier, where they had been sitting together on the day of Merilin’s arrival. Haldir was standing there, upright and tall, overseeing the River. He did not see or hear Legolas, who stopped at the beginning of the pier and studied his friend from a distance.

Being an Elf could be very confusing. How could he possibly have such strong feelings for three different people at the same time? Merilin, Aragorn… and Haldir. He had always loved his friend, in a brotherly fashion. But Haldir’s support and commitment during the past two months had really touched Legolas. Haldir had taken care of him, comforted him, made him laugh, and without ever asking anything back. He had really helped Legolas through the festival and the weeks preceding it. Legolas had felt himself growing closer to Haldir. He had slowly been developing simple, physical fantasies about the Lórien Elf. One evening, before Aragorn’s arrival, they had spent the entire evening together, lying side by side on Legolas’s bed, talking. When Haldir had left and Legolas had gone to bed, the pillow had still smelled of Haldir. Legolas had found himself snuggling against it, wrapping his arms around it and imagining it was Haldir himself. That had been quite a shock.

He already knew what it was like kissing Haldir. Legolas smiled wryly. Another thing that could be added to the long list of Legolas’s famous not-so-smart-moves. Not that it had not been pleasant! Oh, it had been good. Gods, the moment that Haldir, after his initial shock, had yielded, opened up to him… Legolas shivered, and not because of the nightly May breeze. Indeed, Haldir had responded well. He had not protested, quite the contrary. Did that mean…? If it did not, then another heartbreaking brush-off awaited Legolas. But he had to take that risk.

He hoped with all his heart that Haldir would not think he would be second, no, third choice. What if he would say, “So you can’t have Elessar, and you can’t have Merilin, so you’ll settle with me? No, thank you.” That would be terrible. For it was not the truth. Legolas looked at Haldir’s tall figure and felt warmth spreading through him. Don’t mess up this time, he thought to himself.

“Haldir!” he called.

The other Elf turned to face him, surprised. Valar, did he look beautiful in the moonlight. There was something about Haldir’s face that drew you in; some sort of noble, masculine attractiveness that hid Haldir’s cheerful nature to those who didn’t bother to look further. Legolas remembered seeing Haldir for the first time, and how he had been fascinated by the Elf’s face. Especially the eyes; honesty lay in those intriguing green-grey depths, compassion, and intelligence.

Legolas waited a moment before continuing. Would he tell about his vicissitudes with Aragorn now? No, he decided then. First things first. So he mustered up all his courage and began, “If I told you my heart was ready to love again, Haldir, and offered it to you right now, asked you to love me… would you do it?”

It took a few seconds for Haldir to answer. An expression of astonishment crossed his fair, noble face, but it disappeared again and made place for an expression of hesitating happiness. His reply was simple and earnest. “You know I would, Legolas.”

Suddenly, Legolas’s feet were carrying him towards the Lórien Elf on their own account. “Would you be willing to leave Lórien and come live here with me?” he asked as he walked towards Haldir.

Haldir unmovingly watched Legolas come to him, a strange glimmer in his eyes. “Yes, I would,” he said.

“Would you even be willing to come with me when I leave Middle-earth after Aragorn’s passing?” Legolas asked him softly. He now stood in front of Haldir, and they watched each other with eyes full of emotion. Haldir did not ask him to explain the last words.

“Yes,” Haldir replied.

“Even,” Legolas said, hesitantly reaching out to let his fingers trail down Haldir’s grey-clad chest, “in the company of a Dwarf?”

Haldir smiled. “Yes,” he said, catching Legolas’s hand and bringing it to his lips, “even then.”

Legolas started to smile and he meant to say a thousand things, but Haldir just cupped his face with his hands, and kissed him. Did not ask for an explanation, gave no ‘but’s’, ‘what-if’s’ or ‘why’s’… just kissed him. Gave him his love, like he had given him his friendship: unconditionally.

At first, Haldir’s lips just slid slowly over Legolas’s, undemanding, unhurried. Both knew this time that the other would not deny him. It was actually Legolas who deepened the kiss by parting his lips invitingly. He wanted Haldir to take dominance in this kiss. And Haldir did. He slightly tilted his head and slowly drew the tip of his tongue over Legolas’s lower lip, before entering Legolas’s mouth gently. Legolas slid his hands under Haldir’s arms and braced them on Haldir’s shoulder blades, seeking anchor as his knees started to become a little weak. At first, Haldir’s tongue explored him shyly, but when Legolas’s tongue responded and danced a sensual dance with Haldir’s, the Lórien Elf sighed and became bolder. He kept the movements of his tongue slow and sensual, but he let their kiss become deeper, more passionate as he still held Legolas’s face gently between his warm hands. Legolas let out a sigh that ended in a soft moan. Gods, if Haldir knew how to use the rest of his body as well as his tongue, then… Legolas felt fire spread in his belly.

The kiss seemed to last a lifetime, but in the end, Haldir pulled slightly back. He looked Legolas in the eye for a moment, then started to place slow, soft kisses all over Legolas’s face; his forehead, his eyes, his cheeks, the corners of his mouth… “Legolas,” he sighed.

“Aragorn and I have talked,” Legolas said, then suddenly wondered if it wasn’t a bit awkward to talk about his former lover after such a kiss. But Haldir smiled.

“Finally,” he said.

“We have solved our problem,” Legolas said. “All is well now.”

“That’s good. I am glad.”

“And now the past is behind me at last, it is time to focus on the future,” Legolas said. “The answers you just gave me, you truly meant them, didn’t you, Haldir?”

“Yes,” Haldir said with a fond smile. “I truly meant them.”

“No hesitations?”

“None whatsoever.”

“I have one more question for you, Haldir,” Legolas said.

“And that is…?”

“Would you spend the night with me?”

Haldir smiled tenderly. “This night, the night after that; any night, Legolas.”

Legolas intertwined his fingers with Haldir’s. “Come with me to my room,” he whispered.

~~~~~~~~~~

After a slow walk through the streets of the city, during which they held hands and talked about trivial things, they entered the palace. When they reached Legolas’s room, Haldir hesitated on the threshold and he turned to Legolas. His eyes asked Legolas the question his lips did not: are you certain? Are you ready to have someone so close again? This was different from the situation with Merilin and they both knew that; sleeping with Merilin had been saying goodbye. Spending the night with Haldir would be a beginning.

Legolas took Haldir by the hand and smiled at him. “Come,” he said, “it’s all right.”

Haldir followed him inside and closed the door behind him. “I’ve been in this room before,” he said, “but it seems different to me now.”

“Because you look upon it with other eyes,” Legolas said. He positioned himself in front of Haldir, their bodies only inches apart. He opened the brooch holding Haldir’s cloak together, removed the garment and slung it over a nearby chair. “Do you want me to talk?” he asked Haldir.

Haldir smiled. “What would you like to say?”

“So many things. If there’s any uncertainty on your part, I would take it away. I would tell you why, and how, and when…”

“It can wait,” Haldir said. “I can think of more romantic things to do right now.”

“Really? Like what?”

“Like this.” Haldir leaned forward and kissed him again. In the attentiveness and tenderness of Haldir’s kisses, Legolas could read the other Elf’s love for him, and he let himself drown in it. He couldn't remember ever having felt so much love before, and he felt himself melt against Haldir’s solid body. He knew instinctively that he had done wisely in following his heart’s desire; this was right. Suddenly, he realized Haldir was speaking between his kisses.

“Legolas,” he murmured, then kissed him again. “Tell me what you want. Please tell me, Legolas… Don’t hold back on me – I would not bear it if you did.”

“I will never do that,” Legolas told him. He looked Haldir in the eye and slowly began to open the fastenings of Haldir’s grey jerkin. “Come in bed with me,” he said softly. He could hear Haldir hold his breath at these words.

Eye contact between them was intense as they silently removed each other’s jerkins and boots. Legolas then knelt on the bed and, taking Haldir’s hand, silently asked him to join him. Haldir did so, kneeling in front of Legolas, and as they kissed again, they eased themselves in a comfortable, lying position. Haldir leaned on his elbow and kissed Legolas’s face, briefly halting at Legolas’s mouth before moving down to make a track of light kisses down Legolas’s throat.

“I’m so nervous, you wouldn’t believe,” he murmured again Legolas’s skin.

“You don’t have to be,” Legolas said gently, even though he thought Haldir couldn’t possibly be more nervous than he was. “This is nice. What you’re doing is nice.”

“This?” Haldir said, lightly dragging his lips over Legolas’s skin, at which the Mirkwood Elf shivered.

“Yes, that,” he sighed. He closed his eyes and relished the feeling of Haldir’s lips nipping at his skin. Haldir was thorough, and he barely let an inch of skin untouched, but in the end he encountered the collar of Legolas’s tunic and could not proceed. Legolas felt Haldir’s fingers creep up to the top fastening and open it. Legolas did not protest and apparently, this encouraged Haldir to do the same with the rest. Both Elves sighed when Legolas’s tunic fell open.

Haldir let his fingertips slide lightly down Legolas’s breastbone. “This seems also different than before,” he said. “I remember seeing you naked for the first time and the sight stole my breath away, but even that was different from this.”

“Perhaps because you know I will let you touch me now,” Legolas said with a smile.

“Touch you,” Haldir mused, “yes, that is something I’ve wanted to do for a long time.” He traced Legolas’s pectoral muscles with his fingers. As he did this, he leaned over and kissed Legolas’s lips. “I can hardly wait to feel you naked against me,” he whispered. “An old fantasy of mine,” he added.

Legolas sighed when Haldir’s fingertips explored his belly. “Why not let your fantasy come true then?”

“Later. We have time, Legolas. Lots of time. Come,” he said with a smile, “lay your head back, relax a little and just enjoy this.”

Legolas complied, and for the next few minutes, surrendered to Haldir’s skilled hands and mouth. The Lórien Elf was sitting on him now, straddling him, occupied with giving pleasure. Haldir was tender, gentle, as if he was worshipping Legolas, and yet there was a teasing edge to his touches.

“Ai, Haldir,” Legolas groaned when Haldir, after a little teasing, sealed his lips over one of Legolas’s nipples and swirled his tongue around it. “You are not going to draw this out too long, are you? I burn for you already.”

“I never expected you to be so impatient in bed,” Haldir smiled, moving over to the other nipple and repeating the procedure.

“Oh, I’m not!” Legolas moaned, arching his back.

“Good. Otherwise I would have had to teach you patience. It adds to the pleasure, you know.” Haldir now ran his tongue down Legolas’s stomach, hungrier than before.

“You are licking me like I was a piece of candy,” Legolas laughed.

“Hmm, but you are candy, Legolas. A stimulant, that’s what you are.”

“Really? What flavor?”

“Well, let’s see.” Haldir moved back up, placing nipping kisses. “It’s unlike anything I’ve ever tasted before. It’s sweet yet also a little spicy. A little honeysuckle, a hint of cinnamon…” He did not overlook Legolas’s nipples on his way back up. “But the most disctinctly you taste of… of…”

“Yes?” Legolas smiled. “Of what?”

Haldir licked Legolas’s collarbones, then kissed his throat, his chin, and finally his lips. “Of Legolas,” he said. “A delicious flavor. Reminds me of an Elf I know.”

“Oh?” Legolas said breathlessly. “What kind of Elf is he?”

“Oh, a special one,” Haldir said, now kissing every inch of Legolas’s face. “Talented, well-versed, witty…” His voice faltered for a moment when Legolas started opening his tunic. “Kind,” he resumed, “caring, and good-looking also. Fairer than any being walking this Middle-earth. The very sight of him makes one sigh.”

“That sounds special indeed,” Legolas said, letting his hands disappear under the flaps of Haldir’s now-open tunic. “I know of a very special Elf too.”

“You do?” Haldir said, then hissed when Legolas stroked his nipples.

“Yes. The best friend I ever had,” Legolas said. “Gentle and kind, devoted, and skilled at many things: horse-riding, singing, sword-fighting… and let’s not forget rowing.”

“Sounds interesting,” Haldir said.

“Yes. Perhaps we should introduce them to each other,” Legolas said, his voice shaky with suppressed laughter.

“Not a bad idea. But your friend, does his great personality come with good looks, too? For my friend only deserves the best of the best,” Haldir said, and he kissed Legolas lightly on the lips.

“His looks?” Legolas knitted his brow. “Well, apart from his enormous nose, I guess he doesn’t look that bad.”

Haldir stared into Legolas’s innocent blue eyes for a moment, then straightened himself and gripped Legolas by the waist. Legolas yelped and started laughing. “Enormous nose?” Haldir exclaimed, tickling Legolas mercilessly. “I’ll teach you!”

“Nnnooo!” Legolas cried, thrashing and roaring with laughter. “It was a joke, Haldir, a joke!”

“It’d better be,” Haldir muttered, stopping Legolas’s torment.

“Oh, come here,” Legolas chuckled, cupping Haldir’s face and pulling him close. “I love your nose.” To prove his point, he gave it a little kiss. “Like I love everything about you.”

And then they were kissing for real, kissing passionately. Haldir claimed Legolas’s mouth with his tongue, more fiercely than before, and both moaned with sudden need. Legolas grabbed both flaps of Haldir’s tunic and shoved the garment down his arms, then tossed it aside. Strange how quickly playful romping could change into passionate lovemaking, he vaguely thought as Haldir kissed his way down again. Gods, how he longed for Haldir.

“What do you want, Legolas?” Haldir gasped, his lips against Legolas’s belly. “Tell me what you want.”

“I – I don’t know,” Legolas whispered.

“Of course you do. What would you enjoy? Tell me, and I’ll do it.”

“I want you to remove my clothing,” Legolas said after a short hesitation. “All of it. And then I want to feel your mouth on me.”

“So be it.” Haldir made Legolas sit up and stripped him of his tunic. He then stroked Legolas’s hips and abdomen before hooking his fingers beneath the waistband of Legolas’s trousers. Legolas let his eyes stray away as Haldir removed the last garment slowly; Haldir had seen him before, but as the Lórien Elf had said, everything was different now.

Haldir remained curiously silent as he shoved the trousers down Legolas’s legs and removed them from the bed. So silent, in fact, that Legolas suddenly felt uncertain.

“Do you really think me beautiful?” he whispered, then silently cursed himself for asking such a girlish thing.

“Never did I see something or someone more beautiful than you,” Haldir replied softly. He slid his hands upwards over Legolas’s legs, then bent down and licked the extremely sensitive skin just above Legolas’s crotch, causing Legolas to writhe beneath him.

“Where do you want to feel my mouth, Legolas?” he asked.

“You know where,” Legolas retorted, slightly out of breath.

“But I want to hear you say it,” Haldir said, spreading Legolas’s legs with his hands and settling between them.

“Why?” Legolas said, moaning softly when Haldir stroked the skin of his inner thighs.

“Because it excites me,” came the reply. “Tell me what you want. And be specific.”

Legolas closed his eyes. “I want you to take my cock into your mouth,” he said. “I want you to give everything you’ve got to make me hard. I want you to make me cry out with pleasure. But I want you to stop before I come.”

“Good. Next time you’ll tell me with your eyes on mine,” Haldir said. And then he bent down and took Legolas’s member into his mouth. Legolas drew in his breath when he felt his cock being surrounded by a warm wetness. Haldir took him halfway, suckled on him, and Legolas could already feel the warmth of  blood pooling in his groin, herald of an erection. Gods, and the thought that Haldir could feel it happening in his mouth!

Haldir moved up slowly, gave the tip of Legolas’s surging organ one lick and then suddenly moved back down, taking him all the way.

“Ai!” Legolas cried, his fingers clawing at the sheets. Haldir sucked on him, using his tongue as he slowly moved back up.

“Do you like that?” Haldir asked him then.

“Yes, I love it,” Legolas gasped. “Do it again. Take me as deep as you can.”

Haldir continued pleasuring him until Legolas thrashed beneath him. Gods, it had been too long! His restless hands grasped the sheets, Haldir’s shoulders, the bedpost, and the sheets again, as his lover moved up and down with skill. Yes, Haldir gave everything he had but he also obeyed Legolas’s other order: he brought Legolas close to the brink, then stopped, smiling when Legolas whimpered. “No whining, Legolas; I only do what you told me to.”

“Oh gods,” Legolas moaned, “why did I give you that order?”

Legolas lay collecting his breath for a moment, then rose up and ordered, “Lie on your back.”

Soon, their positions were reversed, Legolas straddling Haldir. He took one of Haldir’s hands and kissed the palm, the back, the fingers. Haldir’s other hand stroked Legolas’s hip in the meantime. “This must be the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” he said, eyeing Legolas sitting naked on top of him.

“I promise even more beautiful things,” Legolas said before slipping one of Haldir’s fingers into his mouth and suckling on it.

“Hmm. Do they include that skilled tongue of yours?” Haldir asked.

“Perhaps.” Legolas then fluently and quite unexpectedly hooked his fingers beneath Haldir’s waistband and slid the Elf’s leggings down his legs. He felt Haldir freeze for a moment, then relax again. “Oh I’m sorry, did that scare you?” he asked with a smirk.

“It was unexpected,” Haldir said. He was smiling, but the quick rise and fall of his chest told Legolas that Haldir did not remain unaffected.

“We’re both naked now,” Legolas said and the seduction in his voice even surprised himself.

“Yes,” Haldir chuckled. “I’ve noticed that.”

Legolas slowly stroked Haldir’s hips, revelling at the glorious sight of his lover’s naked body. Hard but graceful muscles, smooth, creamy skin, long, muscular limbs. Such beauty; it stole his breath away. He wanted everything with Haldir. His eyes then settled on the point where Haldir’s organ rested relaxedly against his thigh, long and smooth, a small amount of pale curly hair at the base. A treasure and nothing less; Legolas longed to learn the feel of it.

“I have some skill with my hands also,” Legolas said. “Would you like me to show you?”

“Oh, please,” Haldir sighed.

Legolas then took Haldir’s relaxed member into both his hands and started working on it, gently and patiently. He loosely tunneled his hands around it and moved them slowly back and forth, sometimes closing his hands a little, then opening them again. Haldir shifted beneath him and unconsciously lifted his hips, searching for greater contact. When Legolas granted him this by applying a little more pressure and using his thumbs on sensitive places, Haldir groaned loudly. Legolas felt the other Elf slowly grow erect in his hands.

And Haldir was quite impressive, he had to admit. Legolas smiled a little smile and continued pleasuring his lover, using some techniques he himself liked very much.

“Oh Valar,” Haldir moaned, arching his back, “you do have skilled hands.”

“I’ve had practise,” Legolas said, grimly thinking back of all those brief dalliances with himself over the past years.

“Obviously. Kiss me, Legolas – but don’t let go of me!”

Legolas leaned forward and kissed him, in the meantime continuing his ministrations. Haldir raised his hands and before Legolas could see where they were going, Haldir pinched his nipples.

“Ai!” he gasped. One of Haldir’s hands then reached for his groin. While Haldir took him in one hand, he braced the other on the back of Legolas’s head and pulled him closer for a passionate kiss. Legolas moaned and found himself moving rhythmically into Haldir’s grip. His arousal was building quickly now.

“What do you want, Legolas?” Haldir whispered. “Say it, what do you want?”

“I want – I want…”

“Yes, what?”

“I want to make love to you!” Legolas blurted out, hiding his face against the side of Haldir’s neck.

Haldir gently forced him to look at him. Legolas quivered with arousal and nervousness, but the tender glow in Haldir’s eyes comforted him. “Say that again,” Haldir said, “and look at me while you say it.”

“I want to make love to you,” Legolas said again, keeping his eyes on Haldir’s. To his surprise, it was not as hard as he had thought it would be. He trusted Haldir; he loved him; it would be all right. He started to smile. “I want to make love to you,” he repeated.

“That’s two times,” Haldir smiled. “Make love to me then. But I’ll need some preparation.” He brushed the back of his hand over Legolas’s cheek.

“Has it been a long time?” Legolas asked him as he crawled backwards and slipped off the bed.

“More than a year,” Haldir said.

Legolas knelt in front of a closet and rummaged through some drawers. “Valar,” he muttered, “it has definitely been too long for me. I can’t even remember where I keep that stuff!” He turned to Haldir with an apologetic expression. “I’m sorry,” he said.

“Oh, don’t be,” Haldir chuckled. “I don’t believe in humorless sex anyway.”

When Legolas had finally found what he was looking for, he crawled back on the bed, holding a small jar.

“Lucky it doesn’t expire,” he smirked.

“Indeed.” Haldir leaned on one elbow and studied the colorless contents of the jar. It also didn’t have any scent and it looked more wax than oil.

“A special Mirkwood product,” Legolas said as he slicked his fingers with it. “Let’s see what it can do for you. Lie back.”

Haldir complied, taking a comfortable position.

“Now spread your legs for me, love,” Legolas said with a little grin. “And raise your knees.”

“You enjoy this, don’t you?” Haldir asked as he did as he was told.

“Hmm. There is something very alluring about the way you surrender to me.” Legolas let his hand wander between Haldir’s thighs and he lightly rubbed his fingers over the skin surrounding Haldir’s opening. Haldir tensed a little, but only briefly. When he relaxed again, Legolas looked his lover in the eye, silently asking him the question.

“Yes,” Haldir said softly, “do it, Legolas.”

Legolas slipped one finger inside. Haldir drew in his breath and tensed. Legolas held still for a moment, then pushed his finger deeper when Haldir relaxed again. Haldir’s discomfort would not last long; Legolas curved his finger a little, probed deeper and found the slightly raised area he was looking for.

“Ai, yes!” Haldir cried, arching his back. Legolas immediately felt the muscles around his finger relax and he thought this a good moment to go a step further. So he inserted a second finger, this time with less difficulty. He twisted them inside of Haldir until the Lórien Elf thrashed helplessly in front of him. “Another one, Legolas,” he begged him. Legolas complied, and now he was widening Haldir’s opening with three fingers, making sure he would not hurt his lover later. Haldir was thrashing in front of him, his arching body a pleasure to behold.

“Enough,” Haldir finally panted. “I want you, Legolas. Let me feel you.”

“Where?” Legolas teased, applying lubrication to his hands again and consequently bringing them to his erection.

“Inside of me,” Haldir said, staring at Legolas’s hands preparing his own cock for their lovemaking. “I want to feel every inch of you. I want you to push into me until you can go no further.”

“Gods,” Legolas sighed, “I love it when you talk dirty.” He grabbed a pillow. “Let’s put this under your comely rear, love,” he said with a grin. “That will make it all the more enjoyable.”

Haldir grinned too and lifted his buttocks of the mattress and let Legolas place the pillow under them. “I believe I’m about to be taken thoroughly,” he said.

“Indeed.” Legolas positioned himself on his knees between Haldir’s wide-parted thighs and stroked the other Elf’s hips. “You may be a little sore tomorrow. Is that a problem for you?”

“No,” Haldir sighed. “But I wonder what the others will think when I eat my breakfast standing tomorrow morning.”

Legolas laughed. “If you’re a good boy, I will consider ordering for our breakfast to be brought up here,” he said. “But enough chattering.” His face got a serious expression again as he brought his cock in the right position, and Haldir’s smile was gone too. Legolas kept his eyes on Haldir’s as he pushed slowly into him. Lips parted and two moans mingled as Legolas made his way into Haldir’s body inch by inch. The velvety tightness around him was maddening, and Legolas stopped halfway.

“Does it hurt?” he gasped, eyeing Haldir’s quivering body in front of him and sliding his hands over his lover’s strained abdominal muscles.

“Only a little,” Haldir moaned. “It will be over soon. Go on, please!”

Legolas took Haldir’s raised knees and pulled slowly back until he almost slipped free, then claimed Haldir again, more insistently this time.

“Ai, yes,” Haldir moaned, “that’s good!”

Legolas did not stop this time until he had fully sheathed himself. He clenched his eyes shut as Haldir surrounded him completely. It was all hotness and tightness around him and he barely dared to breathe. It was not a new sensation for him, but it had been so long that it almost seemed like it.

“I’m all right,” Haldir panted. “Don’t keep still, for pity’s sake. Move. Please!”

Legolas then started rocking his hips, swiveling them until his cock hit the sweet spot his fingers had found earlier. “Oh gods!” Haldir exclaimed, grabbing the pillow beneath his head with both hands and squeezing it hard. “That is so good! Do it again. And harder!”

Legolas, breathing harshly, took Haldir firmly by his hips, pulled back and pushed himself in again, harder than before. He continued making these movements, increasing his pace until both he and Haldir were crying out without restraint. Both Haldir’s hips and Legolas’s palms were growing slippery with sweat, and Legolas could feel the need building fast between his thighs, making him feel high.

He now leaned forward, placing his hands on Haldir’s both sides so that he sat on all fours. Haldir tore his gaze from the ceiling and fused it with Legolas’s. Panting moans escaped his parted lips with every thrust from Legolas’s hips. Legolas vaguely noted that Haldir’s eyes, which were usually greenish-grey, were now green, deep green as the roof of Mirkwood on a summer day.

“Haldir,” he gasped, “your eyes… they have changed color.”

“So have yours,” Haldir breathed, “they remind me of amethyst.” His comment changed into a loud moan when Legolas’s cock struck his sweet spot again.

Haldir then raised himself slightly on his elbows and kissed Legolas. Legolas parted his lips to receive Haldir’s searching tongue, which danced against Legolas’s and sent jolts of electricity to Legolas’s groin. He pumped faster, eliciting more encouraging moans from Haldir. The pleasure led them to kiss each other more passionately, branding each other with their teeth. Legolas bit Haldir’s lower lip, then swept his tongue over the sore spot and suckled on it.

Haldir raised himself a little more and caught Legolas’s earlobe between his lips. Legolas moaned encouragingly and turned his head a little. Haldir teased and licked his erogenous zone until Legolas felt he was close to exploding. The thundering of his heart, the sweat that broke out over almost his entire body, the tightening sensation in his groin, it all told him he was close… very close.

“Ai!” he cried when Haldir bit the tip of his ear. “I’m close, Haldir. Come together with me – please!” He grasped Haldir’s erection with one hand. Only a couple of expert movements were enough to catapult Haldir to the stars, and the pre-orgasmic clenching of his muscles sent Legolas over the edge, too. He slammed deep one final time and cried out as his seed spurted into Haldir’s body in long, hot gushes. It took him a moment before he realized that Haldir was crying out, too; warm fluid touched his hand and he realized it was Haldir’s sperm.

Het let go of Haldir’s softening member and collapsed onto his lover’s body, quivering slightly with post-orgasmic tremors. He eased himself into a comfortable position and took Haldir’s warm face between his hands, looking his lover in the eyes. “I love you,” he whispered breathlessly. “I love you, Haldir.”

“And I love you, Legolas,” Haldir said softly, sliding his weary arms around Legolas’s waist. “So much.”

They kissed gently, and for a while, nothing could be heard but their laboured breathing gradually slowing down.

“Thank you, Haldir,” Legolas finally said.

“For what?”

“You and Merilin have helped me through the past few weeks. But especially you. You have done so much. I can never thank you enough for that.”

“You don’t have to,” Haldir said, caressing the side of Legolas’s face. “I did it gladly. Your love is all I need.”

Legolas lay his head down, his cheek resting on Haldir’s shoulder. He closed his eyes and relished the feeling of Haldir’s hands stroking his back. “Would you sing something for me?” he murmured.

“Sing something?” Legolas could hear the surprise in Haldir’s voice. “What would you like me to sing?”

“Doesn’t matter. But nothing sad.”

And Haldir sang something for him, a song they knew from when they were both elflings, about a young squirrel with a fear of heights, who therefore was the laughing-stock of the neighbourhood, but eventually overcame his fear and became the fastest climber of his family. It was a silly song they had invented themselves, and it made Legolas smile. He let the happiness of the moment engulf him. As he listened to Haldir’s soft, soothing voice, he realized that he had been wrong earlier that evening. He hadn’t needed a few days to make his heartache disappear. A few hours, and Haldir’s embrace, that was all.

Read Author's Notes for these parts.