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nickngregTitle: The Masquerade Series X2 - #23 "LOTRBoyz"
Authors:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
catlover2x and fred_bear aka jennybel75
Chapter: 23 of many.
Rating: NC17
Pairings: Nick/ Greg
Disclaimers: We don't own them, it'd be nice if we did – we really wouldn't get any sleep then!
Summary: We all love a dirty, sweaty Ranger and a shiny clean Elf…
This is a series of Role Plays and Fantasies between the boys. Each will have two parts, 1 for Greg and 1 for Nick, their fantasy being fulfilled by the other. There will be as many parts as we have ideas for. Enjoy!
A/N: Just to let ya'll know we're still having much fun with this, we love each other and have pledged never to date a man born on 9/11 again!
X-posted at![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
csi_slash, nerdswithbadges
Chapter 1- "Untouched" can be found here
Chapter 2- "RentBoyz" can be found here
Chapter 3- "FlyBoyz" can be found here
Chapter 4- "CollegeBoyz" can be found here
Chapter 5- "RomanticBoyz" can be found here
Chapter 6- "StoreBoyz" can be found here
Chapter 7- "H.W.C.Boyz" can be found here
Chapter 8- "SailorBoyz" can be found here
Chapter 9- "WetBoyz" can be found here
Chapter 10- "SlaveBoyz" can be found here
Chapter 11- "OldBoyz" can be found here
Chapter 12- "New YearsBoyz" can be found here
Chapter 13- "BrothelBoyz" can be found here
Chapter 14- "CowBoyz" can be found here
Chapter 15- " Droit du SeigneurBoyz" can be found here
Chapter 16- " MusicStarBoyz" can be found here
Chapter 17- " OneNightOnlyBoyz" can be found here
Chapter 18- " X-dressingBoyz" can be found here
Chapter 19 “SpaceBoyz” can be found here
Chapter 20- "UniformedBoyz can be found here
Chapter 21 “DanceforMeBoyz” can be found here
Chapter 22 “TrainBoyz” can be found here
Aragorn/Estel = Nick
Legolas = Greg
Gandalf = Grissom
Gimli = Brass
Part A: Aragorn
Although he was part elf, Aragorn had never truly fallen under the enchantment of the immortals until he met Legolas Thrandulion, Prince of the Woodland Realm. He was seven at the time, living with his foster family, all elves, but they were all dark of colouring. None of them possessed the sparkling moonlit charm of the archer.
Dark, sturdy and bound to all things earthly, he was bewitched by the slender limbs and fluid grace of the beautiful elf. Legolas had walked Middle Earth for well over 2,000 years by then, if one could call it walking. He was so light of foot it could be said he barely touched the ground, especially when he leaped laughingly into the trees to escape the little boy who had followed him with saucer eyes.
His brothers teased him, but Legolas had always been kind to Aragorn whilst he was growing up; showing him how to shoot properly with the bow and even fletching some arrows just for him.
There had always been a bond between them and now they were part of the Fellowship. At the beginning of their quest, Aragorn had the satisfaction of knowing the elf was by his side, a steadfast companion and deadly assassin, possessing lethal skill with the bow and knives he carried.
They had come down from the mountain, for which Aragorn was exceedingly grateful. The biting cold and burden of carrying the Hobbits had taken its toll and, although they were now heading toward the hellish mines of Moria, he relished the chance to travel once more through the forests and grasslands to which he was accustomed.
They had stopped to make camp, the Hobbits cooking the evening meal as was their wont being as they were most attached to the pleasant comforts of a full belly. All were occupied with the inevitable tasks, caring for weapons, gathering wood or guarding the camp. All except Legolas. He was nowhere to be seen.
Restlessly, Aragorn circled the camp. Having been brought up amongst elves, he was as watchful and almost as quiet as one when he passed unseen by Gimli, who was busy lecturing the Hobbits about the great dwarf cities to be found below ground.
Away from the sounds of the camp, Aragorn became aware of an eerily captivating melody, echoing through the woods. He followed the sound, all his senses alert, hoping against hope that the song would lead him to Legolas.
Through the trees ahead, he sensed rather than saw a faint glow. He worked his way through the bushes until he was able to peer through them into a small glade and the sight that met his eyes stole his breath away.
It was as if a moonbeam had been poured from the darkened sky to embody perfection in form. Legolas floated naked in a small crystal pond, his long argent hair fanned out around his serene face. His lips were not moving, but Aragorn thought he could still hear a ghost of the song that had lured him away from camp.
He knew the elven requirement for cleanliness; therefore he was not surprised to happen upon Legolas at his ablutions. The preternatural senses of the elves ensured that his friend would have ample warning of anyone who approached.
Legolas swam to the shallows and stood naked in the water, his slim body like a silver arrow in the moonlight, stars sparkling from the droplets running down his skin. He twisted his hair to wring the water from it and tossed it behind one shoulder. He had released his braids to cleanse himself and Aragorn looked forward to watching him plait the tiny warrior braids when it dried. He had always been fascinated to watch the nimble fingers at the task.
A faint glow emanated from the lustrous pale skin as Legolas sat upon a rock to dry his hair.
“Why do you linger in the bushes, mellon?” the low throaty voice called.
Ruefully, Aragorn pushed his way through the leaves. “I should have known I could not take an elf by surprise, my friend.”
Legolas looked up with a merry smile. “You should indeed, you have never yet succeeded in sneaking up on me, nor your brothers.”
Aragorn averted his eyes, not knowing where to look but desirous of drinking his fill of the elf’s naked flesh. Legolas seemed undisturbed by the presence of his friend; indeed the elves had no false modesty. Clothing was a useful covering, not a requirement. And in the elven way, any item of use was made as beautiful as possible. Even Legolas’ battle raiment was tailored to set off his angular elegance.
“Why do you avert your eyes, Estel?”
“You are unclothed; I do not wish to intrude on your privacy.”
Legolas laughed, a silvery sound in the small clearing. “Is that all? You do not offend me, mellonamin.” He paused, a tiny frown pulling his finely drawn brows together. “Do I offend you? Your human ways are not the same–”
“No, no, you do not offend me at all,” Aragorn said earnestly, sitting at a safe distance, watching as Legolas swiftly braided his hair. He longed to run his fingers through the silky strands and then to continue, to touch the luminous skin, shimmering in the pale light of the moon. “You are more beautiful than the brightest star in the firmament,” he said under his breath.
Legolas looked at him questioningly, but appeared not to have caught Aragorn’s comment. “Might I suggest a bath, now that you are here? You have a certain… fragrance about you,” he said, wrinkling his nose slightly. Aragorn was relieved to see the bright eyes twinkle with humour and recognized that he was the butt of another obscure elven joke.
“Perhaps I will,” Aragorn said, noncommittally, his eyes dazzled by the beautiful elf.
Legolas stretched and put his hands behind him on the rock, looking up at the wise and timeless moon, his hair streaming down his back. In the midst of so much horror, Aragorn welcomed this moment of peace, no matter how transient.
“Legolas!”
The elf turned his head, looking at his friend questioningly. Aragorn was tongue-tied, wondering how he could tell his companion what was in his heart.
“You are troubled, mellon. You carry the burden for us all,” the mellifluous voice comforted Aragorn and also, he realized uncomfortably, turned him on. He shifted, trying to ease his hardening cock inside his leggings.
Legolas stood and approached the ranger, unselfconscious about his nudity. Aragorn’s eyes dropped to the cock, limp between the elf’s legs, as beautiful as the rest of him and experienced an overwhelming urge to take it in his mouth. But he knew that Legolas had no such interest in him; such a beautiful being would have no use for such as he, a dirty, sweaty ranger.
Even with that in mind, he was still unable to keep from gasping, “You are so beautiful, mellon.”
Legolas paused, looking puzzled. “I? You think I am beautiful? You are more beautiful by far, mellon.”
Aragorn stood up and ran his fingers down one bare arm and Legolas shivered delicately. “Your skin is like silk, my Prince.”
Legolas was looking uncertain, poised as if to take to the trees as he had so often in Aragorn’s youth. Aragorn closed one calloused hand over the elf’s. “Don’t turn away from me, Legolas, I mean you no harm.”
“What is it you want from me?”
“A kiss.”
“Is that all? Only a kiss?” Legolas stepped closer and lifted one hand to Aragorn’s face, caressing the stubbled cheek. The ranger closed his eyes, his heart beating faster than he could ever remember, waiting.
Legolas stepped closer and kissed Aragorn tenderly on the forehead. “Mellonamin.”
Aragorn snatched at the elf, holding him in place, pressing the cool satiny flesh under his warm hands. Legolas allowed it, realizing his friend was in an unusual mood this night.
“What troubles you, Aragorn? Are you ill?”
“That was not the kiss I wanted, Legolas. I want to taste your lips.”
Legolas tilted his head, looking deep into the ranger’s glowing eyes. “You wish to lick my lips?”
Aragorn chuckled. “Among other things.” His smile faded as the enormity of actually holding the slender form in his arms came home to him. He shifted his grip, running one hand up the curve of the elf’s spine. “Kiss me, my friend, I beg you.”
Legolas said willingly, “If you desire it, of course.” He waited, his lips slightly parted, willing to find out how the human kiss differed from that of the elves. It might be interesting.
Aragorn pulled him even closer and licked over the enticing lower lip, then slowly slid his tongue into the elf’s mouth. He swallowed a startled gasp from the elf as he closed his mouth over Legolas’, exploring the sweetness that lay within.
His nostrils were filled with the fresh woodland scent of the elf, a fragrance that clung to Legolas, even through battle. He closed his eyes and deepened the kiss, rejoicing that he held the one he loved close to his heart at last. He felt the first stirring of response from the stunned elf, his arms came up to hold Aragorn tight and there was a movement at his groin.
Aragorn released Legolas’ lips and pressed his cheek to the smooth face of the elf. Legolas trembled in his arms. “Have you never kissed another, sweet prince?”
“I have kissed elf maidens but never has any kiss stirred my blood as yours has, Aragorn.”
Legolas gently put Aragorn’s hands away from him and stepped back, watching his friend’s face. He was startled to see such longing and love, so pure and so intense that it melted his very bones. Never had he felt so desired, nor so confused.
“I would lie with you, mellon,” Aragorn pleaded.
A surge of savage delight overwhelmed the elf and he stepped closer to his friend. “Kiss me again, Aragorn,” he ordered imperiously.
The human smiled and tilted the elf’s head, claiming a long, lush kiss from Legolas. The elf moaned and pressed himself against Aragorn, slipping his arms around his friend, feeling the hard muscle rippling under the worn leather of his jerkin.
Aragorn’s hands were roaming now, mapping each inch of precious elven flesh, marvelling at the silken skin overlying the toned sinews of the archer.
“Have you ever lain with a male, a’mael?”
So startled was he by the question, Legolas missed the endearment. His head was spinning with the potency of Aragorn’s taste and touch. The human was so masculine and strong, that even with his elven strength, Legolas was not entirely sure he could break the embrace. Not that he wished to. He became aware that his hips were moving and he was grinding himself against a similar hard bulge hidden under Aragorn’s tunic. Without thinking, he moved his hand to cover the hardness in his friend’s leggings, overwhelmed with a sudden desire to see the human’s sex.
Aragorn moaned and thrust forward into the gentle hand covering him. He slid his hands over the slim waist to the swelling curve of the elf’s buttocks, cupping each one in his palms. They were so perfect, round and soft, his fingers began to mould and squeeze the cheeks.
“What did you ask me?” Legolas’ voice was faint.
Aragorn struggled to remember, intoxicated with holding Legolas so close to him. “I asked if you had ever lain with a male?”
Legolas shook his head no. “I have had… interludes with she elfs, but no males. How is it possible for males to lie together?”
“I would like to show you that mellon, and so much more, if you will allow me,” Aragorn murmured into the silken curtain of bright hair.
Legolas was lost, his limbs trembling, his stomach fluttering as if beset by a flock of butterflies. His naked flesh was set on fire by the roving hands of his friend and dimly he felt this was wrong although he could not remember why.
“I would like to explore your beautiful body with my lips…” Aragorn murmured, turning wish into reality by kissing a line over Legolas’ chest to claim one pink nipple in his mouth. Legolas arched into the hot, wet caress, unable to stop himself from moaning. The rough texture of Aragorn’s leather tunic was exquisite torture on his naked skin, heightened by the torment of the tongue lapping over his sensitive nipple, hardening it till it stood taut and pointed in the chilly air.
“And claim you with my mouth…” Aragorn sucked at Legolas’ collarbone, wondering if he made a mark, how long it would last, given elven healing powers. He kissed his way down one of the elf’s arms, slowly tasting every inch and took each finger into his mouth and sucked on it.
“Aragorn, you must stop,” Legolas pleaded.
“I want to take you, my elf, and make you mine,” Aragorn responded, with an ardent kiss. “Let me love you.”
“How can two males be together?”
“I will show you.” Aragorn’s voice trembled with desire. He took off his cloak and threw it on the ground. He turned to Legolas holding out his arms. “Let me take you here under the stars, melamin, allow me to show you how much…” his voice trailed off as Legolas took the final step toward him. Gently he laid the elf on his cloak and yanked his tunic over his head.
The elf looked up the ranger, examining the muscular chest and strong arms. Aragorn stood as if offering himself, hoping he was worthy. He went down on his knees before the reclining elf, steadily regarding his friend, searching for any hesitation.
He covered the elf’s body with his, fumbling at the closure of his leggings, pulling his erect shaft free. Legolas moaned softly and arched up when he felt the hot, silky cock sliding over his; he had never felt anything that aroused him in this way. He trembled like a leaf in the wind, shivering in the tempestuous storm that swept his soul. Passion burned with the clarity of the brightest star and suddenly he knew he had always wanted this with his friend.
Aragorn kissed him again as they turned and tumbled together, limbs entwined, hips working in the ancient rhythm made new again. He reached down to touch Legolas’ hard length, stroking him gently, admiring the curved shaft. Legolas’ hand covered his, pressing both of their erections together. Breathy moans whispered through the clear air as the two friends stroked each other to a mutual release, pearly liquid spilling over their joined fingers.
At last Aragorn raised his head to look into the starry eyes raised up to his. They lay together in silence, staring into each other’s eyes. Aragorn wondered if now was the time to reveal his love to Legolas. Long had he desired the beautiful elf but he had never found the perfect time to tell him what lay in his heart.
Though brave in battle, pledging his service even if it resulted in his death to return the ring to Mordor, somehow still Aragorn could not make his lips speak what he wished to say. Instead, he stroked the smooth torso, noting Legolas’ breath hitch when his rough fingertips swept over the sensitive aureoles of his nipples.
“Never leave me, Legolas.”
“I have sworn not to, Aragorn, I will remain by your side, for good or ill, throughout this quest.”
“And after?”
Legolas looked surprised. “What would you have me say, ranger?”
“That you will remain at my side.”
Legolas looked away then, his eyes fixed on the silvery moon. “If you wish it, I will stay… as long as I can.”
Aragorn did not wish to probe into that cryptic statement, not when he felt his member grow heavy again, lengthening where it lay against the glowing elf. Was it his imagination, or was the aura emanating from his friend stronger than it was before?
He captured the pink, curved lips for another deep kiss, unable to believe he had finally gained entrance to that portal. ‘Once I have him, can I ever let him go?’ he thought, drowning in the kiss, breathing in the sweet woodland essence of the immortal.
Determined to claim Legolas with his hands, his lips and his cock, Aragorn commenced the slow voyage to the long shaft pressing into his belly. He had noticed how sensitive the elf’s nipples were and he paid special attention to them, sucking them gently until the pliant body beneath him was writhing in bliss.
Aragorn left a path of hot open-mouthed kisses along the elf’s torso, following the furrow that lay between thigh and body. Legolas moved restlessly, that spot was sensitive but what he longed for was the ranger to take him in that talented mouth.
Moving down, Aragorn pushed the elf’s long legs apart, nuzzling the velvet sac, noting the bare hint of the puckered opening exposed to his gaze. He cupped Legolas’ warm spheres in his hand, fondling them while he licked gently up the rigid shaft, savouring the salty pearl that beaded on the tip.
Legolas saw the stars above him spinning with the heady pleasure of Aragorn’s tongue worshipping him. The feeling of the ranger’s mouth on his erect elfhood made him want to sing out and he barely managed to keep silent, biting his lower lip for control. In some dim corner of his mind he realised he had no wish to signal their presence; they had all too many enemies all around them, and perhaps a few too many friends as well.
“Has ever anyone adored you in this manner, mellon?” Aragorn asked huskily.
“Never…” was all the poor beleaguered elf could manage as the ranger steadily swirled his tongue around the head, finding all the most sensitive spots, catching the swollen vein that ran underneath in the most perfect way to torment Legolas, sucking him closer to the edge. He could not conceal his rising desire; Aragorn was driving him crazy and he began to plead for release.
Aragorn licked up and down the shaft, tasting every inch, tracing each bulge and vein of the hard length. He sucked on the hot flesh, the intimate caress arousing him more than he thought possible. He could imagine nothing more satisfying than bringing Legolas to completion with his mouth and his hands.
Aragorn’s hand was busy at his own cock. Lying half dressed over the naked elf, ravenously devouring his cock was the most erotic experience of the ranger’s life. He could not hold back his own release when he tasted the essence of the beautiful elf. He heard the soft muffled cries as Legolas pressed his arm over his mouth at the moment of climax.
The beautiful warrior’s caution reminded the ranger that they were taking a chance but he could not leave this moonlit glade without claiming the ultimate prize.
The stunned elf lay panting softly in wonderment. He had known Aragorn for over 80 years and had never suspected what a sensuous lover this man was. No one had ever moved him so profoundly in so short a time and he felt in danger of losing himself. He wondered if the moon were bewitched tonight and he himself under some sort of spell to behave so wantonly.
Aragorn moved to lie on his back, pulling the elf to rest partway on his chest. The small noises of the night filled the silence between them.
At last Aragorn murmured, “Elf-juice, delicious.”
A trilling giggle shook the elf and Aragorn was enthralled. In all the time he had known Legolas he had never heard the soft sound and he was proud that he was the one to elicit the delighted laugh.
“Is this customary?”
“Hugging? Embracing? Yes, it is obligatory when one has shared their… juices.”
Aragorn’s hands were never still, stroking and soothing the elf, caressing the cleft between his buttocks until the elf squirmed in his arms.
“Why do you touch me there, Aragorn?”
“Because I wish to take you, to sink my sword,” he thrust his hardening cock into Legolas’ hand and the quick smile let him know that the elf understood his metaphor, “Into your sheath. To know you and claim you. For us to be as one.
“This I do not understand.” Legolas’ beautiful face was perplexed. “You wish to pierce my flesh with yours? What would this gain for us?”
Aragorn rolled the elf under him swiftly. “We would be together in a way that we never have before. You would be mine and I would be yours. Until you have felt me, moving deeply inside your body, you cannot know what such a joining can be like. I shall bring you to rapture and you shall do the same to me.”
“You wish me to pierce your flesh as well?”
“Of course, mellonamin, I would not do to you that which I would not have done to me,” Aragorn whispered ardently, caressing the beautiful face.
“It seems this part of you is much bigger than that part of me,” Legolas observed, stroking the magnificent erection in his hand.
“I will not lie to you, I will never lie to you. It will hurt just a bit to begin with but then it will be pure pleasure, I promise you.”
“I do not fear pain,” Legolas said with a smile that was a challenge. “If this joining is as wonderful as you say, then show me, filthy human.”
Aragorn reached for his tunic, searching for the small flask of oil he carried. “I shall make you ready to receive me, beautiful elf.”
Legolas lay relaxed as Aragorn pushed his legs back and spread them to reveal the tight entrance he so desired to breach. The ranger circled the opening, massaging the outer skin to reassure the elf.
Idly, he asked, “Why is it I can hear you when you sing and none of the others seem to be able to?”
Legolas started in surprise. “When did you hear me sing?”
“When I set out to look for you earlier this evening,” Aragorn replied, concerned at the dismay he saw in the elf’s eyes.
In one swift movement, Legolas sprang to his feet, backing away from the ranger. “I thought I could do this, Aragorn, but I cannot. It is too dangerous.”
“Mellon, I have done this before, it is not dangerous,” Aragorn pleaded, terrified that the prize he coveted for so long was now to slip from between his fingers. Legolas’ body glowed like a pearl, the luminescent shimmer soft in the dim light of the glade.
Every line of the elf’s body was stiff with aversion and he continued to back away from his friend, holding his arms about himself. “Do not press me, mellon, I cannot explain. But we must not do this, by the Valar, it could be death–”
Legolas stopped speaking and his head snapped to the east, listening intently. “Orcs!” he exclaimed tersely. He leaped to the pile where his clothes lay, but did not bother to dress. He picked up his bow and slung his quiver and knives onto his back. “Go that way, I shall go up in the trees and surprise them. Quickly. There are five of them.”
He disappeared into the boughs of the trees, leaving Aragorn in despair, watching the glow grow fainter. He heard the first gibber of the loathsome creatures approaching them and grabbed his sword and his own bow. He quickly pulled on his tunic and went in the direction that Legolas had indicated.
The Orcs were no match for the ranger and the elf, who had the element of surprise on their side. Legolas listened but could hear no evidence of further numbers and decided this group were scouts. “We must move on, we cannot linger.” Hurriedly, he pulled on his clothes. “Tell them we must move camp tonight. Their company cannot be far behind.”
Aragorn nodded and ran for the camp, touching each member of their band to wake them, placing his finger before his mouth to quell the Hobbits’ usual unruly outburst upon being shaken awake.
Legolas soon joined them. “I hid the bodies. We must go, we will walk in that direction for at least two hours. Then we can rest until morning.”
Aragorn moved to the rear of the column, knowing that Legolas’ elf eyes were better suited to seeking out a path in the dark than his. He wondered why Legolas had withdrawn from him so suddenly in the glade. It was obvious he had not yet heard the Orcs approaching. He had clearly not wished to join with Aragorn and the ranger wondered what he had done to offend his elven friend.
Legolas led the band on the easiest path he could find and Aragorn followed, obscuring their trail as best he could. His misery grew and he was glad of the task he had, anything to take his mind off the idyll they had shared.
He thought he had pleased the elf and he was desolate at the thought that he might never touch his friend, nay his love, the only one he would ever love, in this way again. He bit his lip to staunch the tears that threatened to fall. This was no time to play the lovelorn suitor, they had a mission and a task they had undertaken and he had vowed to see it done successfully.
He watched the lambent glow of his one time lover, flickering gently ahead on the path and wanted to run and catch the slender body in his arms. ‘You promised to stay by my side, Legolas’ he wanted to cry, ‘Why have you turned me away?’
The night was cold and all were chilled by the time Legolas deemed it safe to stop. “No fire,” he warned the Hobbits. “Just go to sleep. Morning will come soon enough.”
Aragorn spread his blanket beneath him on the ground, wrapping himself in his cloak. The embers of passion had cooled and he felt an icy hand around his heart. His eyes were bleak as he watched the elf pace a perimeter and discuss the watch schedule with Boromir.
Gandalf watched the ranger closely. He was enveloped in a very faint glow and the wizard wondered if what he thought would come to pass had happened. He had often caught the intimate looks that passed between man and elf. He himself did not often have the gift of far sight, but before they had left Rivendell he had consulted with Elrond, who had confirmed that he saw a future in which Aragorn was paired with Legolas. He had been at a loss to explain the connection between Aragorn and Arwen, but assured Gandalf that their marriage would never be.
The glow around Aragorn was too pale to indicate a full bonding but it seemed that the friendship had begun to blossom. In that case, why was Aragorn looking so miserable? The wizard resolved to watch. It was a useful skill sleeping with one’s eyes open, one could see so much.
Legolas could feel Aragorn’s eyes upon him, but he did not look toward his friend. He could not. If he did he feared he might abandon the party and flee to the forests of Mirkwood to hide. Like many elves, he had a healthy sexual appetite although he was quite young for his kind. He had never satisfied that appetite with a male, let alone a man of another race, but he had no objection to doing so.
He’d felt dangerously seduced by the ranger. He’d had no idea of his own capacity for arousal and the man had raised him higher than he had ever flown. He had a passing thought while they made love that this was what he’d been searching for.
It wasn’t until Aragorn made the idle comment about his singing that Legolas realized just how much danger his friend posed to him. He had always enjoyed the man’s company; their friendship was one of the few joys in Legolas’ life and he was loath to give it up.
Now he saw his devotion for what it truly was: love wearing the disguise of friendship. He felt the tendrils of his soul pulling him toward Aragorn but he would resist, out of respect for the ranger’s promise to wed Arwen. He would make this sacrifice with a smile. It was all he could do.
He had not forgotten his promise to Aragorn to stay by his side, and no matter the cost to himself, he would keep that promise.
What had scared him so badly, however, was Aragorn’s ability to hear the song in his mind. He had not been singing, at least not out loud. That Aragorn could hear him had warned the elf that they were partially bonded already.
It was not unknown for elves to marry outside their race, but Aragorn had his destiny to follow. He would be a great king of a great kingdom, leading the peoples of Middle Earth to prosperity and peace. He could not do that with a male elf by his side. He needed heirs.
And so Legolas prepared himself to give up the love he had not known that he had. It was a cruel fate that led him to discover the truth of his own feelings too late to prevent the shattering of his heart, but what must be would be.
He stood guard as long as he could, pulled apart by the thrumming echoes in his body of their passionate encounter and by the pain in his heart. At last, he gave in to his body’s need for rest. He placed a gentle hand on Gandalf’s shoulder, asking silently for him to stand watch.
As he walked wearily to an empty spot he saw Aragorn curled on his side, shivering in the cold night air. ‘One last time,’ he thought and sank to curl his body against the man’s. Aragorn’s arm slid round his waist, pulling him closer as they spooned and he grunted in his sleep. ‘Give me just this little comfort and I will let him go,’ Legolas promised.
His turmoil was so great, he slipped into reverie gratefully.
~*~
Part Deux: Legolas
"We will make such a chase as shall be accounted a marvel among the Three Kindreds: Elves, Dwarves, and Men. Forth the Three Hunters!"
“Three days, three nights, no food, no rest,” Gimli grumbled as he ran in the rear.
“Your legs are too short, dwarf.”
“Pity I do not have pointy ears like yours to catch the wind like a sail. I’ve no doubt I would catch you then.”
Legolas’ sharp ears caught the dwarf’s complaint and he laughed softly as he ran. He and Aragorn took it in turns to take the lead, knowing the dwarf would remain in the rear, by virtue of his shorter legs.
As he ran his thoughts turned, as they had a thousand times before, to the magical hour they had shared in the moonlit glade. He wondered if Aragorn ever thought about that night, as he did.
The morning after, Legolas had awakened before the dawn, slipping out of the ranger’s unconscious embrace before the man woke. Only his fierce control enabled him to treat Aragorn as he always had, determined to protect his friend from any speculation by their friends. The underlying sorrow in Aragorn’s eyes broke his heart but he could do no other.
When it was his turn to run in the lead, he kept his pace even, knowing Aragorn could not run as fast as he, and Gimli was under even greater disadvantage. When Aragorn ran before him, Legolas feasted his eyes on the man’s broad shoulders, narrow hips and long legs even while he ached to be held in the strong arms once again, but he twisted subtly away from even the most casual touch from the ranger.
The grief over the deaths of Gandalf and Boromir had overshadowed their personal anguish, but man and elf chose to mourn alone, each in their own way. Both feared that the friendship, once so close, was in danger of breaking. However the universe had its own plans and the threads woven over the years of their devotion were stronger than rope and did not rupture so easily.
~*~
It seemed as if every joy must be paid for in blood. The three kindred had met Gandalf the white in Fanghorn Forest, found that Merry and Pippen were still alive and great was their joy.
Now Legolas stood at the edge of a cliff, dreading what he would see. The Orc had told him that Aragorn had gone over the cliff, his glove stuck in the harness of a runaway Warg. The fall was great and rushing waters tumbled at the bottom. The elf pictured his friend, torn and broken by the fall, being dragged under the fast waters and drowning. He ached for his friend. Now that it seemed he would not see Aragorn again, his immortal life stretched long and lonely before him.
He flinched when King Theoden said, “Leave the dead,” and again when the man touched his shoulder. Legolas closed his eyes, remembering Aragorn’s touch. He turned and followed the man and the dwarf, leaving behind the memory of his friend.
Numb with pain, he rode silently, the pull of Gimli’s arms around his waist the only thing that grounded him. He barely heard the clatter of his horse’s hooves as they rode up the ramp of Helm’s Deep.
His brain knew better but his heart insisted that Aragorn still lived and, while all around him mourned, Legolas went his silent way, helping to prepare for the assault all knew would come. He could find no rest in reverie; he paced the ramparts at night, wondering if he should have surrendered to Aragorn’s desires. His heart would have broken either way but at least he would have had the feeling of being claimed.
The sound of a commotion alerted him and he ran down the stairs, hearing Gimli’s broken greeting when the ranger rode in on Brego. Legolas stood, completely still, awaiting the man who’d claimed his heart. He could not keep a smile from his face when he took in the tattered tunic and greasy hair. Hardly a lovely sight, but beautiful to Legolas who thought he had looked his last upon the light filled eyes of his friend.
“You’re late,” Legolas said quietly. His eyes roved over the ranger, taking in the scrapes and bruises, the water-stained gauntlets. “You look terrible.”
Aragorn started to laugh, a low, welcome sound to the elf.
With renewed hope Aragorn looked into the eyes of his elf, seeing there the answer to his unspoken question. Legolas held out the jewel that had been wrenched from Aragorn’s neck by the Orc. Aragorn wanted nothing more than to brush the elf’s hand aside and take him in his arms, but he could not, not here in the main hall with all eyes upon them.
Arwen’s jewel held no meaning for him anymore, but he closed his hand over the elf’s, sparks igniting between them as their hands touched. “Thank you,” he said softly, while his eyes said, ‘We will live through this battle and I will claim you.’
Legolas could not keep the joy from his eyes, as his answered, ‘I will be yours.’
Recalling himself to his responsibilities, Aragorn broke their contact and went to the king to report the great horde of Uruk he had sighted on his way to the keep.
~*~
Legolas again stood upon the ramparts alone. The Uruk had been vanquished by men, elves and dwarf, retreating to meet their final destiny in the trees. On the morrow the Rohirrim would leave for Theoden’s castle, to plan their next move.
Tonight he wished to hold council with the stars and give thanks to the Valar that his love had been returned to him, whilst the king made plans with Aragorn and Gandalf.
A quiet step alerted him but he did not stir.
“I never see the moon that I don’t think of you, Prince of Moonlight.”
Legolas smiled to hear Aragorn address him thusly. “And you embody the warmth of the sun for me, ranger.”
“Why do you linger alone here, Legolas? There is food and drink below.”
“I have eaten and drunk my fill, mellon. I need… some peace.”
“Shall I leave you to your thoughts?”
Legolas turned and looked tenderly upon his ranger. “I cherish your company, a’mael.”
Aragorn paused on the cusp of turning away. “Did you mean that, what you said?” he asked in a voice that quivered.
“Beloved? Yes, I do,” Legolas said softly. He opened his arms and the ranger practically ran into the offered embrace.
“How long I have yearned to hold you, melethron,” Aragorn said huskily.
“And I you, Aragorn. When I thought you had met your death–”
“Shhh, I did not, I could not leave you, a’mael.” Aragorn ran his finger over Legolas’ lips. “Your lips curve like the wings of the sea bird,” he whispered. “Why did you leave me that night?”
Recollection flooded the elf’s mind and he strove to hide his anguish as he answered. “You heard me sing.”
“I have heard you sing before, beloved, and you did not run from me then. Why should this disturb you so?”
“I was weaving a melody in my mind, it had not passed my lips.” Seeing by the ranger’s uncomprehending look, Legolas continued. “It is the beginning of bonding, when one can hear the music of the mind.”
A look of ecstatic rapture spread over Aragorn’s face. “You would be willing to bond with me? I never dared to hope for such happiness…”
“It does not matter what I wish,” Legolas muttered, looking down. “You are promised to Arwen, but if you… want me, I am yours this night.”
Aragorn put a finger under Legolas’ chin to lift his face. “I am not promised to Arwen, beloved.”
“You wear her jewel,” Legolas pointed out.
“She is my foster sister, she loves me as such. She gave it to me for protection,” Aragorn explained. “The last night on the bridge she told me she had mistaken her feelings for me and loved another. I released her as she released me. She told me to follow my heart,” Aragorn added mischievously.
“To follow your heart on the quest?” Legolas asked stupidly. His head was reeling with the implications of Aragorn being free.
“She said my eyes followed you, from the moment I first saw you. She knew I loved you.”
“But–”
“No, not this time. We will overcome all obstacles in our path; I will not lose you again,” Aragorn said firmly. “Now, let us go to my room, we have some unfinished business.”
“Can we not stay here, under the stars?” The elf pleaded.
“No, we cannot, Legolas. I have fallen over a cliff, almost drowned and fought in an epic battle. The stars are beautiful but the stones are hard and cold. I would prefer a softer place to make you mine.”
“Very well,” Legolas capitulated, gladly following his ranger to the small room that had been allocated to him. Even he felt a certain lassitude come over him. It had been a long battle, hard fought and until the coming of Gandalf, the issue had hung in the balance. It seemed that it had been an age since he had found rest.
They stood for a moment, looking at each other, still in their battle soiled clothing and armour. Legolas stepped forward to help Aragorn unbuckle the gauntlets, kissing the bruises left at the edges of the leather. The tunic was next, followed by the shirt of chain mail. Bruises and scrapes adorned the ranger’s body and Legolas kissed each one as a sacrament.
Warmth began to stir Aragorn’s groin as he allowed Legolas to undress him and he groaned with each caress from the lips that had haunted his dreams. Careful fingers unlaced his leggings, pulling them down his long legs. The elf pushed Aragorn to sit on the bed and knelt to remove the man’s boots, followed by the leggings.
He looked up, gazing at the perfect outlines of Aragorn’s body, the rippling muscles and tough sinew under burnished skin, marred with bruises. “You are so beautiful, my beloved.”
“Now it is my turn,” Aragorn said as he rose, pulling the elf to his feet. He unbuckled the boiled leather armour that Legolas had been pressed to borrow, noticing that the pale flesh that lay underneath was marred with similar marks and scrapes. “You are hurt.”
“No more than you, my love,” Legolas responded. “And I shall be healed by the morrow, which you shall not.” He touched the worst bruise on Aragorn’s shoulder with regretful fingers, as if he could heal it with wishes.
Aragorn lifted the tunic and silken shirt over Legolas’ head, undressing him as if opening a rose one petal at a time, seeking to lay open the golden heart to his gaze. When at last the elf stood naked before him, Aragorn trembled that such loveliness was soon to be his.
“Come with me,” Aragorn said, holding his hand out to the elf. Unquestioningly Legolas followed him into the small anteroom, smiling when he saw the stone tub, filled with steaming water.
“When did you arrange this?” he murmured.
“You looked weary after the battle. And I know you hate the blood and dirt on your skin. Allow me to bathe you, melethron.” Aragorn took Legolas’ lips in a gentle kiss and assisted the slender elf to climb into the tub, following him promptly.
Legolas sighed as he leaned against the sloped back whilst Aragorn knelt between his spread legs. Solemnly, he lathered a cloth and lifting one arm, began to wash the elf, slowly and carefully.
Legolas lay passively, allowing Aragorn to rinse his hair and run the cloth over his limbs. The ranger trailed the cloth over the smooth chest, smiling as his fingers traced around the pink nipples, toying with them until they stood erect.
“Let me do this for you, melamin,” Aragorn said soothingly.
Legolas smiled at him and then closed his eyes, gasping as the ranger moved lower, carefully washing the elf’s lengthening shaft and velvet spheres. He spread his legs, allowing his lover greater access to do as he willed, offering himself to his love.
Aragorn worked the cloth into the dark cleft between the buttocks and Legolas moaned, his hips thrusting gently, setting the water moving.
Hastily, Aragorn washed himself and allowed the soiled water to drain, rinsing them both from the bucket of fresh water.
“Come with me now, a’maelamin.” Aragorn offered the elf his hand and Legolas stepped from the tub, breathing hard in anticipation. Aragorn led him, still glistening with droplets of water to the narrow bed.
“I have waited so long to tell you I love you, amin mela lle, Legolas,” Aragorn breathed.
“I love you too, Aragorn.” Legolas squirmed when Aragorn captured the elegantly pointed tip of his ear in his teeth and nibbled. “Oh, that feels so good.”
“You like that?” Delighted that he had found one of Legolas most sensitive spots, Aragorn applied himself, nipping, sucking and tugging lightly on the delicate points until the elf was almost undone, writhing with the strength of his arousal.
“Oh, please, Aragorn, do something, do something,” the poor elf cried out.
“I need you, beloved, I must take you. Let me please, I must be inside you.” Legolas could feel the ranger’s hands trembling with the fervour of his desire.
“Please, Aragorn… please take me… claim me…”
“You shall be mine and I shall be yours, beloved,” Aragorn promised as he fumbled for the oil. Pausing only to suck at one alluring nipple, he stroked the solid shaft with his oiled hand, moving lower to roll his elf lover’s spheres between his fingers. As he sucked on the sensitive pink nub, he pressed on the harder skin between balls and entrance, delighting in the shiver that ran through the elf’s body.
He circled the pink furled opening, seeking to relax the elf. Legolas could hardly bear the anticipation, every touch seemed to melt him. He splayed bonelessly on the bed, allowing his body to be moved as his lover willed it, unable to control his own limbs.
“Aragorn, I need to feel you between my thighs, I want to feel your sword inside me…” Legolas moaned softly.
“I can barely control my need of you when you lie so willing and wanton beneath me, beautiful elf,” Aragorn panted. “But I must prepare you, I would not hurt you, my love.”
Legolas took his beloved’s face in his hands. “You will not hurt me, melethron. Make haste.”
Aragorn pushed his finger to breach the narrow channel, gradually entering the hot, silky passage, listening to the gasps of pleasure from the elf. He moved slowly, seeking for the spot of pleasure, knowing he had found it when Legolas arched and groaned.
“Oh, when you touch me there, it’s as if all the stars of the heavens sparkle within me. I cannot wait to feel you fill me. More, please, my love.” Legolas spread his legs wide, aching to be filled.
“Soon, love.” Aragorn bit his lip, trying to control his haste. He added another finger, soothing the passage even as he widened the muscle with circular motions.
“Now, please, now! I need your sword in my sheath.” Legolas breathed heavily, his lovely eyes glazed over as he gasped for air. “I long for you to pierce my flesh.”
“Yes,” Aragorn said unsteadily. He could wait no longer. His beautiful elf looked like a wild thing, writhing in the moonlight and he slid between the warm thighs, pressing the long legs back against Legolas’ chest, gliding inside in one long stroke.
Legolas laughed, a wild erotic sound to Aragorn’s ears, and wrapped his legs around the ranger’s waist. “Now you are mine and I shall not let you go, ranger,” he declared triumphantly.
“Yours, always yours. I have always belonged to you, beloved,” Aragorn moaned raggedly, overcome with the blazing fires that burned within the elf, threatening to consume him, but he would gladly go up in smoke for the chance to claim his love at last.
Aragorn began to move slowly and Legolas arched up beneath him as the thick cock within him moved over the spot that gave him so much pleasure.
“I never thought I would bond with a man,” Legolas whispered as if to himself. “Fill me, love me, claim me, make me yours.”
“You are mine,” Aragorn said fiercely, biting down on the elf’s neck. “And I am yours for all the years allotted to me, we shall be together for all time.”
A single hot tear slid down the smooth cheek of the elf. He felt their bond strengthen with their joining; as if a golden light had been kindled within him, he could feel their souls knit together. The tear was for the moment of their bonding and also for the time when Aragorn would be taken from him. The mortal’s years were limited, while he was immortal and he would walk long years alone after Aragorn passed. Legolas wrapped his arms fiercely around his ranger, as if he could keep the inevitable at bay, but he was willing to purchase the joy of the few years they would have together with the agony that lay before him.
Aragorn felt the crushing embrace and moved faster, unable to hold back. Driven by instinct to plant his seed as deeply as possible, he thrust hard into the willing body under his, overjoyed to feel an answering thrust from the elf. They moved together as if they had made love for years, their rhythm perfectly matched, strength meeting strength.
Legolas felt Aragorn moving deeply within him and the stimulation was enough for him to find his release, hot as fire as it spurted over his chest and stomach. As he reached his climax, he felt his inner muscles clench involuntarily around the hard cock impaling him. He cried out as Aragorn thrust once more and released his essence deep inside.
They lay in a tangle of limbs, shiny with sweat, chest against flat chest as their hands soothed each other’s tremors. Legolas moaned as he felt the ranger slip from inside him.
“I did not hurt you, love?” Aragorn asked finally.
“Nothing to speak of,” Legolas answered with a kiss. “Besides, I think it is my turn.”
“Are you serious?” Aragorn lifted his weary head to gaze at Legolas. The elf’s gaze was merry but Aragorn read the purpose there. “You must be made of steel, my love.”
“Parts of me are,” Legolas joked, his hand on his stiffening elfhood. “And you are the forge in which I shall quench it.”
Aragorn chuckled. He rolled onto his back, spreading his arms and legs. “I am yours, do with me as you will.”
Legolas laughed and straddled his lover, holding his wrists over his head. “Do you yield to me, Aragorn Telcontar?”
“You know I do,” the ranger said. “I have never surrendered to another but I bow to you, my Prince of Moonlight.”
“And I to you, King of my heart,” Legolas said, suddenly serious. He bent to take Aragorn’s lips gently. The ranger stirred slightly and realized that the elf was right, once was not enough on this night of all nights. This night that they pledged their hearts to each other.
“Take me, Legolas,” Aragorn said in a helpless voice that Legolas would come to recognize when his lover particularly needed him.
“You do not know how long I have waited to hear you say that, beloved,” Legolas sighed. “Allow me to explore you.”
The urgency of their first love-making partially slaked, Legolas took his time discovering the body of his new lover. Every scar or mark had to be kissed, each nipple lovingly sucked and bitten, every swell of muscle caressed. He sucked each finger, watching Aragorn shiver with need.
Legolas rolled the man onto his stomach and smoothed his hands over tired muscles, digging into the alluring round buttocks with his fingers, moulding them until Aragorn sighed with pleasure.
Long before Legolas had finished his slow journey to the ranger’s toes, Aragorn’s cock stood, hard and dripping, awaiting more attention from his lover.
Longing to taste this most intimate part of his lover, Legolas bent to take him into his mouth. The salty taste and musky aroma pleased him; the man smelled so differently from the elves, but it was an erotic sensation.
Aragorn tried to keep his hips still but instinct drove him to thrust up into the hot, wet mouth caressing him so tenderly. Legolas continued to lick and suck until he felt Aragorn’s manhood swell further. He pressed firmly on the base of the cock, to Aragorn’s strangled objections.
“Hush, I wish you to find release with me, when I am buried deep inside you,” the elf quieted his lover.
Aragorn shivered in erotic anticipation.
Strong hands turned him and pulled him to his knees. Aragorn rested his head on his hands, waiting for his lover’s pleasure. His hips jerked as he felt the coolness of oil dribbled in his cleft. Legolas slid his fingers along the crease and Aragorn shivered again. Never had he realized the pleasure to be found in this area.
Instead of dread, he was suddenly filled with longing, not only to feel the elf’s cock inside him, but he needed the reassurance that he was wanted as much as he had desired Legolas. He wanted to be claimed in his turn.
Slowly, Legolas breached his lover with one finger, recalling the procedure Aragorn had followed. He searched inside and was delighted to discover a hardness on the inner wall. He knew the feeling of joy when Aragorn had stroked him there and he hoped it would be the same for the human. When Aragorn yelped and jerked, he knew he had found it. “Do you like this, a’mael?”
“Yes, oh yes… more… please…” Aragorn gasped.
Legolas smiled. He continued to stroke the passage, feeling the muscles quiver around his fingers. Aragorn rocked against his hand in desperation and Legolas judged it to be time.
He oiled his own cock and lined it up at the entrance exposed to him, watching with awe as the puckered skin stretched around his shaft and it disappeared into Aragorn’s body. The human was whimpering now, one hand moving on his own cock. Legolas rocked slightly to seat himself to the hilt and Aragorn pleaded for more.
Grasping his lover’s hips, Legolas pulled out slowly almost to the tip, then equally slowly sank himself back inside. Maintaining that pace, he made love to Aragorn slowly until the desperate man flung himself back against Legolas’ hips.
“By the Valar, move! Take me now!”
‘Spoken like a king,’ Legolas thought wryly. Gripping the lean hips more tightly, Legolas thrust hard and fast, pounding into Aragorn, who howled with delight. All too soon, Aragorn’s muscles clamped down tightly and Legolas found himself gasping with the suddenness of his release, shooting deep inside the man.
He collapsed over Aragorn’s sweaty, heaving back, panting for breath as he had not during their memorable run.
Aragorn searched blindly with his hand and clasped the back of Legolas’ thigh, holding him in position. “Stay inside me, melethron.”
“Forever, mela en' coiamin.”
“We are bonded, I feel it,” Aragorn whispered in awe.
“Forever, melamin. You are inside me and I am inside you.”
“Forever.”
~*~*~*~
Greg lay awake, watching the progress of the silvery shaft of moonlight across the floor of their bedroom. He lay spooned behind Nick, where they had fallen after he had “claimed” his ranger. Soon he would get up and draw the curtains so they could sleep in. It was so rare they both had the same night off, he didn’t want it to be over too early.
“What’re you thinking about so loudly back there?” Nick murmured.
“Why couldn’t I be the ranger in the second half?” Greg asked in an injured voice. “I ran as far as you did.”
Nick laughed. He had a feeling that wasn’t really what was on Greg’s mind, but whatever it was would bubble up eventually.
“Because you’re slender and beautiful, like an elf.”
“And you’re sweaty and dirty like a ranger?” Greg grinned in the darkness.
“I was only sweaty during the parts when you got me all hot,” Nick pointed out.
Greg snorted.
“You think the ranger and the elf were really fucking?” Nick asked.
“I never thought about it when I read the book but I was only fourteen then,” Greg answered. “But in the movie, are you kidding? I think they were all fucking except the girls.”
“Aragorn and Legolas?”
“Well if they weren’t, they were giving a damn fine imitation, all that eye fucking and touching,” Greg laughed.
“Do you feel bonded now?”
Greg took a sharp breath. Damn Nick anyhow, sometimes he was so clueless about emotions, bumbling along and then, out of the blue, a zinger. “I felt it before,” Greg said quietly.
Nick rolled over and took Greg’s face in his hands. “I did too, baby. I felt it the first time we were together, even though I ran from you.”
“Why did you run so fast?”
“I was scared. This thing between us was so huge, it just hit me like a truck, flattened me. I couldn’t believe it.”
“Do you believe it now?”
“You make me believe in us more and more everyday.”
Greg pushed Nick onto his back and snuggled into him, draping himself comfortably over his boyfriend.
“Do you worry about me dying before you?” Nick asked softly. “I am older–”
“And you have this habit of having guns pulled on you.”
“Answer the question,” Nick said, digging into Greg’s ribs.
“I try not to think about it.”
“Is that what that tear was about?”
‘Damn,’ Greg thought, ‘Thought that slipped past.’
“I can’t imagine what my life would be like without you,” Greg answered at last.
“You won’t have to, babe, I’m always going to be with you,” Nick said reassuringly. “Even if I go before you, I’ll always be in here.” He touched Greg’s chest. “And you’ll be here.” He took Greg’s hand and held it flat on his chest where Greg could feel the solid thud of Nick’s heartbeat.
“I love you.”
“Love you too, babe.”
~*~
a'mael - beloved
mellon - friend
melethron - male lover
mellonamin - my friend
melamin - my love
amin mela lle - I love you
A'maelamin - my beloved
Mela en' coiamin - love of my life
Authors:
catlover2x and fred_bear aka jennybel75Chapter: 23 of many.
Rating: NC17
Pairings: Nick/ Greg
Disclaimers: We don't own them, it'd be nice if we did – we really wouldn't get any sleep then!
Summary: We all love a dirty, sweaty Ranger and a shiny clean Elf…
This is a series of Role Plays and Fantasies between the boys. Each will have two parts, 1 for Greg and 1 for Nick, their fantasy being fulfilled by the other. There will be as many parts as we have ideas for. Enjoy!
A/N: Just to let ya'll know we're still having much fun with this, we love each other and have pledged never to date a man born on 9/11 again!
X-posted at
csi_slash, nerdswithbadges Chapter 1- "Untouched" can be found here
Chapter 2- "RentBoyz" can be found here
Chapter 3- "FlyBoyz" can be found here
Chapter 4- "CollegeBoyz" can be found here
Chapter 5- "RomanticBoyz" can be found here
Chapter 6- "StoreBoyz" can be found here
Chapter 7- "H.W.C.Boyz" can be found here
Chapter 8- "SailorBoyz" can be found here
Chapter 9- "WetBoyz" can be found here
Chapter 10- "SlaveBoyz" can be found here
Chapter 11- "OldBoyz" can be found here
Chapter 12- "New YearsBoyz" can be found here
Chapter 13- "BrothelBoyz" can be found here
Chapter 14- "CowBoyz" can be found here
Chapter 15- " Droit du SeigneurBoyz" can be found here
Chapter 16- " MusicStarBoyz" can be found here
Chapter 17- " OneNightOnlyBoyz" can be found here
Chapter 18- " X-dressingBoyz" can be found here
Chapter 19 “SpaceBoyz” can be found here
Chapter 20- "UniformedBoyz can be found here
Chapter 21 “DanceforMeBoyz” can be found here
Chapter 22 “TrainBoyz” can be found here
Aragorn/Estel = Nick
Legolas = Greg
Gandalf = Grissom
Gimli = Brass
Part A: Aragorn
Although he was part elf, Aragorn had never truly fallen under the enchantment of the immortals until he met Legolas Thrandulion, Prince of the Woodland Realm. He was seven at the time, living with his foster family, all elves, but they were all dark of colouring. None of them possessed the sparkling moonlit charm of the archer.
Dark, sturdy and bound to all things earthly, he was bewitched by the slender limbs and fluid grace of the beautiful elf. Legolas had walked Middle Earth for well over 2,000 years by then, if one could call it walking. He was so light of foot it could be said he barely touched the ground, especially when he leaped laughingly into the trees to escape the little boy who had followed him with saucer eyes.
His brothers teased him, but Legolas had always been kind to Aragorn whilst he was growing up; showing him how to shoot properly with the bow and even fletching some arrows just for him.
There had always been a bond between them and now they were part of the Fellowship. At the beginning of their quest, Aragorn had the satisfaction of knowing the elf was by his side, a steadfast companion and deadly assassin, possessing lethal skill with the bow and knives he carried.
They had come down from the mountain, for which Aragorn was exceedingly grateful. The biting cold and burden of carrying the Hobbits had taken its toll and, although they were now heading toward the hellish mines of Moria, he relished the chance to travel once more through the forests and grasslands to which he was accustomed.
They had stopped to make camp, the Hobbits cooking the evening meal as was their wont being as they were most attached to the pleasant comforts of a full belly. All were occupied with the inevitable tasks, caring for weapons, gathering wood or guarding the camp. All except Legolas. He was nowhere to be seen.
Restlessly, Aragorn circled the camp. Having been brought up amongst elves, he was as watchful and almost as quiet as one when he passed unseen by Gimli, who was busy lecturing the Hobbits about the great dwarf cities to be found below ground.
Away from the sounds of the camp, Aragorn became aware of an eerily captivating melody, echoing through the woods. He followed the sound, all his senses alert, hoping against hope that the song would lead him to Legolas.
Through the trees ahead, he sensed rather than saw a faint glow. He worked his way through the bushes until he was able to peer through them into a small glade and the sight that met his eyes stole his breath away.
It was as if a moonbeam had been poured from the darkened sky to embody perfection in form. Legolas floated naked in a small crystal pond, his long argent hair fanned out around his serene face. His lips were not moving, but Aragorn thought he could still hear a ghost of the song that had lured him away from camp.
He knew the elven requirement for cleanliness; therefore he was not surprised to happen upon Legolas at his ablutions. The preternatural senses of the elves ensured that his friend would have ample warning of anyone who approached.
Legolas swam to the shallows and stood naked in the water, his slim body like a silver arrow in the moonlight, stars sparkling from the droplets running down his skin. He twisted his hair to wring the water from it and tossed it behind one shoulder. He had released his braids to cleanse himself and Aragorn looked forward to watching him plait the tiny warrior braids when it dried. He had always been fascinated to watch the nimble fingers at the task.
A faint glow emanated from the lustrous pale skin as Legolas sat upon a rock to dry his hair.
“Why do you linger in the bushes, mellon?” the low throaty voice called.
Ruefully, Aragorn pushed his way through the leaves. “I should have known I could not take an elf by surprise, my friend.”
Legolas looked up with a merry smile. “You should indeed, you have never yet succeeded in sneaking up on me, nor your brothers.”
Aragorn averted his eyes, not knowing where to look but desirous of drinking his fill of the elf’s naked flesh. Legolas seemed undisturbed by the presence of his friend; indeed the elves had no false modesty. Clothing was a useful covering, not a requirement. And in the elven way, any item of use was made as beautiful as possible. Even Legolas’ battle raiment was tailored to set off his angular elegance.
“Why do you avert your eyes, Estel?”
“You are unclothed; I do not wish to intrude on your privacy.”
Legolas laughed, a silvery sound in the small clearing. “Is that all? You do not offend me, mellonamin.” He paused, a tiny frown pulling his finely drawn brows together. “Do I offend you? Your human ways are not the same–”
“No, no, you do not offend me at all,” Aragorn said earnestly, sitting at a safe distance, watching as Legolas swiftly braided his hair. He longed to run his fingers through the silky strands and then to continue, to touch the luminous skin, shimmering in the pale light of the moon. “You are more beautiful than the brightest star in the firmament,” he said under his breath.
Legolas looked at him questioningly, but appeared not to have caught Aragorn’s comment. “Might I suggest a bath, now that you are here? You have a certain… fragrance about you,” he said, wrinkling his nose slightly. Aragorn was relieved to see the bright eyes twinkle with humour and recognized that he was the butt of another obscure elven joke.
“Perhaps I will,” Aragorn said, noncommittally, his eyes dazzled by the beautiful elf.
Legolas stretched and put his hands behind him on the rock, looking up at the wise and timeless moon, his hair streaming down his back. In the midst of so much horror, Aragorn welcomed this moment of peace, no matter how transient.
“Legolas!”
The elf turned his head, looking at his friend questioningly. Aragorn was tongue-tied, wondering how he could tell his companion what was in his heart.
“You are troubled, mellon. You carry the burden for us all,” the mellifluous voice comforted Aragorn and also, he realized uncomfortably, turned him on. He shifted, trying to ease his hardening cock inside his leggings.
Legolas stood and approached the ranger, unselfconscious about his nudity. Aragorn’s eyes dropped to the cock, limp between the elf’s legs, as beautiful as the rest of him and experienced an overwhelming urge to take it in his mouth. But he knew that Legolas had no such interest in him; such a beautiful being would have no use for such as he, a dirty, sweaty ranger.
Even with that in mind, he was still unable to keep from gasping, “You are so beautiful, mellon.”
Legolas paused, looking puzzled. “I? You think I am beautiful? You are more beautiful by far, mellon.”
Aragorn stood up and ran his fingers down one bare arm and Legolas shivered delicately. “Your skin is like silk, my Prince.”
Legolas was looking uncertain, poised as if to take to the trees as he had so often in Aragorn’s youth. Aragorn closed one calloused hand over the elf’s. “Don’t turn away from me, Legolas, I mean you no harm.”
“What is it you want from me?”
“A kiss.”
“Is that all? Only a kiss?” Legolas stepped closer and lifted one hand to Aragorn’s face, caressing the stubbled cheek. The ranger closed his eyes, his heart beating faster than he could ever remember, waiting.
Legolas stepped closer and kissed Aragorn tenderly on the forehead. “Mellonamin.”
Aragorn snatched at the elf, holding him in place, pressing the cool satiny flesh under his warm hands. Legolas allowed it, realizing his friend was in an unusual mood this night.
“What troubles you, Aragorn? Are you ill?”
“That was not the kiss I wanted, Legolas. I want to taste your lips.”
Legolas tilted his head, looking deep into the ranger’s glowing eyes. “You wish to lick my lips?”
Aragorn chuckled. “Among other things.” His smile faded as the enormity of actually holding the slender form in his arms came home to him. He shifted his grip, running one hand up the curve of the elf’s spine. “Kiss me, my friend, I beg you.”
Legolas said willingly, “If you desire it, of course.” He waited, his lips slightly parted, willing to find out how the human kiss differed from that of the elves. It might be interesting.
Aragorn pulled him even closer and licked over the enticing lower lip, then slowly slid his tongue into the elf’s mouth. He swallowed a startled gasp from the elf as he closed his mouth over Legolas’, exploring the sweetness that lay within.
His nostrils were filled with the fresh woodland scent of the elf, a fragrance that clung to Legolas, even through battle. He closed his eyes and deepened the kiss, rejoicing that he held the one he loved close to his heart at last. He felt the first stirring of response from the stunned elf, his arms came up to hold Aragorn tight and there was a movement at his groin.
Aragorn released Legolas’ lips and pressed his cheek to the smooth face of the elf. Legolas trembled in his arms. “Have you never kissed another, sweet prince?”
“I have kissed elf maidens but never has any kiss stirred my blood as yours has, Aragorn.”
Legolas gently put Aragorn’s hands away from him and stepped back, watching his friend’s face. He was startled to see such longing and love, so pure and so intense that it melted his very bones. Never had he felt so desired, nor so confused.
“I would lie with you, mellon,” Aragorn pleaded.
A surge of savage delight overwhelmed the elf and he stepped closer to his friend. “Kiss me again, Aragorn,” he ordered imperiously.
The human smiled and tilted the elf’s head, claiming a long, lush kiss from Legolas. The elf moaned and pressed himself against Aragorn, slipping his arms around his friend, feeling the hard muscle rippling under the worn leather of his jerkin.
Aragorn’s hands were roaming now, mapping each inch of precious elven flesh, marvelling at the silken skin overlying the toned sinews of the archer.
“Have you ever lain with a male, a’mael?”
So startled was he by the question, Legolas missed the endearment. His head was spinning with the potency of Aragorn’s taste and touch. The human was so masculine and strong, that even with his elven strength, Legolas was not entirely sure he could break the embrace. Not that he wished to. He became aware that his hips were moving and he was grinding himself against a similar hard bulge hidden under Aragorn’s tunic. Without thinking, he moved his hand to cover the hardness in his friend’s leggings, overwhelmed with a sudden desire to see the human’s sex.
Aragorn moaned and thrust forward into the gentle hand covering him. He slid his hands over the slim waist to the swelling curve of the elf’s buttocks, cupping each one in his palms. They were so perfect, round and soft, his fingers began to mould and squeeze the cheeks.
“What did you ask me?” Legolas’ voice was faint.
Aragorn struggled to remember, intoxicated with holding Legolas so close to him. “I asked if you had ever lain with a male?”
Legolas shook his head no. “I have had… interludes with she elfs, but no males. How is it possible for males to lie together?”
“I would like to show you that mellon, and so much more, if you will allow me,” Aragorn murmured into the silken curtain of bright hair.
Legolas was lost, his limbs trembling, his stomach fluttering as if beset by a flock of butterflies. His naked flesh was set on fire by the roving hands of his friend and dimly he felt this was wrong although he could not remember why.
“I would like to explore your beautiful body with my lips…” Aragorn murmured, turning wish into reality by kissing a line over Legolas’ chest to claim one pink nipple in his mouth. Legolas arched into the hot, wet caress, unable to stop himself from moaning. The rough texture of Aragorn’s leather tunic was exquisite torture on his naked skin, heightened by the torment of the tongue lapping over his sensitive nipple, hardening it till it stood taut and pointed in the chilly air.
“And claim you with my mouth…” Aragorn sucked at Legolas’ collarbone, wondering if he made a mark, how long it would last, given elven healing powers. He kissed his way down one of the elf’s arms, slowly tasting every inch and took each finger into his mouth and sucked on it.
“Aragorn, you must stop,” Legolas pleaded.
“I want to take you, my elf, and make you mine,” Aragorn responded, with an ardent kiss. “Let me love you.”
“How can two males be together?”
“I will show you.” Aragorn’s voice trembled with desire. He took off his cloak and threw it on the ground. He turned to Legolas holding out his arms. “Let me take you here under the stars, melamin, allow me to show you how much…” his voice trailed off as Legolas took the final step toward him. Gently he laid the elf on his cloak and yanked his tunic over his head.
The elf looked up the ranger, examining the muscular chest and strong arms. Aragorn stood as if offering himself, hoping he was worthy. He went down on his knees before the reclining elf, steadily regarding his friend, searching for any hesitation.
He covered the elf’s body with his, fumbling at the closure of his leggings, pulling his erect shaft free. Legolas moaned softly and arched up when he felt the hot, silky cock sliding over his; he had never felt anything that aroused him in this way. He trembled like a leaf in the wind, shivering in the tempestuous storm that swept his soul. Passion burned with the clarity of the brightest star and suddenly he knew he had always wanted this with his friend.
Aragorn kissed him again as they turned and tumbled together, limbs entwined, hips working in the ancient rhythm made new again. He reached down to touch Legolas’ hard length, stroking him gently, admiring the curved shaft. Legolas’ hand covered his, pressing both of their erections together. Breathy moans whispered through the clear air as the two friends stroked each other to a mutual release, pearly liquid spilling over their joined fingers.
At last Aragorn raised his head to look into the starry eyes raised up to his. They lay together in silence, staring into each other’s eyes. Aragorn wondered if now was the time to reveal his love to Legolas. Long had he desired the beautiful elf but he had never found the perfect time to tell him what lay in his heart.
Though brave in battle, pledging his service even if it resulted in his death to return the ring to Mordor, somehow still Aragorn could not make his lips speak what he wished to say. Instead, he stroked the smooth torso, noting Legolas’ breath hitch when his rough fingertips swept over the sensitive aureoles of his nipples.
“Never leave me, Legolas.”
“I have sworn not to, Aragorn, I will remain by your side, for good or ill, throughout this quest.”
“And after?”
Legolas looked surprised. “What would you have me say, ranger?”
“That you will remain at my side.”
Legolas looked away then, his eyes fixed on the silvery moon. “If you wish it, I will stay… as long as I can.”
Aragorn did not wish to probe into that cryptic statement, not when he felt his member grow heavy again, lengthening where it lay against the glowing elf. Was it his imagination, or was the aura emanating from his friend stronger than it was before?
He captured the pink, curved lips for another deep kiss, unable to believe he had finally gained entrance to that portal. ‘Once I have him, can I ever let him go?’ he thought, drowning in the kiss, breathing in the sweet woodland essence of the immortal.
Determined to claim Legolas with his hands, his lips and his cock, Aragorn commenced the slow voyage to the long shaft pressing into his belly. He had noticed how sensitive the elf’s nipples were and he paid special attention to them, sucking them gently until the pliant body beneath him was writhing in bliss.
Aragorn left a path of hot open-mouthed kisses along the elf’s torso, following the furrow that lay between thigh and body. Legolas moved restlessly, that spot was sensitive but what he longed for was the ranger to take him in that talented mouth.
Moving down, Aragorn pushed the elf’s long legs apart, nuzzling the velvet sac, noting the bare hint of the puckered opening exposed to his gaze. He cupped Legolas’ warm spheres in his hand, fondling them while he licked gently up the rigid shaft, savouring the salty pearl that beaded on the tip.
Legolas saw the stars above him spinning with the heady pleasure of Aragorn’s tongue worshipping him. The feeling of the ranger’s mouth on his erect elfhood made him want to sing out and he barely managed to keep silent, biting his lower lip for control. In some dim corner of his mind he realised he had no wish to signal their presence; they had all too many enemies all around them, and perhaps a few too many friends as well.
“Has ever anyone adored you in this manner, mellon?” Aragorn asked huskily.
“Never…” was all the poor beleaguered elf could manage as the ranger steadily swirled his tongue around the head, finding all the most sensitive spots, catching the swollen vein that ran underneath in the most perfect way to torment Legolas, sucking him closer to the edge. He could not conceal his rising desire; Aragorn was driving him crazy and he began to plead for release.
Aragorn licked up and down the shaft, tasting every inch, tracing each bulge and vein of the hard length. He sucked on the hot flesh, the intimate caress arousing him more than he thought possible. He could imagine nothing more satisfying than bringing Legolas to completion with his mouth and his hands.
Aragorn’s hand was busy at his own cock. Lying half dressed over the naked elf, ravenously devouring his cock was the most erotic experience of the ranger’s life. He could not hold back his own release when he tasted the essence of the beautiful elf. He heard the soft muffled cries as Legolas pressed his arm over his mouth at the moment of climax.
The beautiful warrior’s caution reminded the ranger that they were taking a chance but he could not leave this moonlit glade without claiming the ultimate prize.
The stunned elf lay panting softly in wonderment. He had known Aragorn for over 80 years and had never suspected what a sensuous lover this man was. No one had ever moved him so profoundly in so short a time and he felt in danger of losing himself. He wondered if the moon were bewitched tonight and he himself under some sort of spell to behave so wantonly.
Aragorn moved to lie on his back, pulling the elf to rest partway on his chest. The small noises of the night filled the silence between them.
At last Aragorn murmured, “Elf-juice, delicious.”
A trilling giggle shook the elf and Aragorn was enthralled. In all the time he had known Legolas he had never heard the soft sound and he was proud that he was the one to elicit the delighted laugh.
“Is this customary?”
“Hugging? Embracing? Yes, it is obligatory when one has shared their… juices.”
Aragorn’s hands were never still, stroking and soothing the elf, caressing the cleft between his buttocks until the elf squirmed in his arms.
“Why do you touch me there, Aragorn?”
“Because I wish to take you, to sink my sword,” he thrust his hardening cock into Legolas’ hand and the quick smile let him know that the elf understood his metaphor, “Into your sheath. To know you and claim you. For us to be as one.
“This I do not understand.” Legolas’ beautiful face was perplexed. “You wish to pierce my flesh with yours? What would this gain for us?”
Aragorn rolled the elf under him swiftly. “We would be together in a way that we never have before. You would be mine and I would be yours. Until you have felt me, moving deeply inside your body, you cannot know what such a joining can be like. I shall bring you to rapture and you shall do the same to me.”
“You wish me to pierce your flesh as well?”
“Of course, mellonamin, I would not do to you that which I would not have done to me,” Aragorn whispered ardently, caressing the beautiful face.
“It seems this part of you is much bigger than that part of me,” Legolas observed, stroking the magnificent erection in his hand.
“I will not lie to you, I will never lie to you. It will hurt just a bit to begin with but then it will be pure pleasure, I promise you.”
“I do not fear pain,” Legolas said with a smile that was a challenge. “If this joining is as wonderful as you say, then show me, filthy human.”
Aragorn reached for his tunic, searching for the small flask of oil he carried. “I shall make you ready to receive me, beautiful elf.”
Legolas lay relaxed as Aragorn pushed his legs back and spread them to reveal the tight entrance he so desired to breach. The ranger circled the opening, massaging the outer skin to reassure the elf.
Idly, he asked, “Why is it I can hear you when you sing and none of the others seem to be able to?”
Legolas started in surprise. “When did you hear me sing?”
“When I set out to look for you earlier this evening,” Aragorn replied, concerned at the dismay he saw in the elf’s eyes.
In one swift movement, Legolas sprang to his feet, backing away from the ranger. “I thought I could do this, Aragorn, but I cannot. It is too dangerous.”
“Mellon, I have done this before, it is not dangerous,” Aragorn pleaded, terrified that the prize he coveted for so long was now to slip from between his fingers. Legolas’ body glowed like a pearl, the luminescent shimmer soft in the dim light of the glade.
Every line of the elf’s body was stiff with aversion and he continued to back away from his friend, holding his arms about himself. “Do not press me, mellon, I cannot explain. But we must not do this, by the Valar, it could be death–”
Legolas stopped speaking and his head snapped to the east, listening intently. “Orcs!” he exclaimed tersely. He leaped to the pile where his clothes lay, but did not bother to dress. He picked up his bow and slung his quiver and knives onto his back. “Go that way, I shall go up in the trees and surprise them. Quickly. There are five of them.”
He disappeared into the boughs of the trees, leaving Aragorn in despair, watching the glow grow fainter. He heard the first gibber of the loathsome creatures approaching them and grabbed his sword and his own bow. He quickly pulled on his tunic and went in the direction that Legolas had indicated.
The Orcs were no match for the ranger and the elf, who had the element of surprise on their side. Legolas listened but could hear no evidence of further numbers and decided this group were scouts. “We must move on, we cannot linger.” Hurriedly, he pulled on his clothes. “Tell them we must move camp tonight. Their company cannot be far behind.”
Aragorn nodded and ran for the camp, touching each member of their band to wake them, placing his finger before his mouth to quell the Hobbits’ usual unruly outburst upon being shaken awake.
Legolas soon joined them. “I hid the bodies. We must go, we will walk in that direction for at least two hours. Then we can rest until morning.”
Aragorn moved to the rear of the column, knowing that Legolas’ elf eyes were better suited to seeking out a path in the dark than his. He wondered why Legolas had withdrawn from him so suddenly in the glade. It was obvious he had not yet heard the Orcs approaching. He had clearly not wished to join with Aragorn and the ranger wondered what he had done to offend his elven friend.
Legolas led the band on the easiest path he could find and Aragorn followed, obscuring their trail as best he could. His misery grew and he was glad of the task he had, anything to take his mind off the idyll they had shared.
He thought he had pleased the elf and he was desolate at the thought that he might never touch his friend, nay his love, the only one he would ever love, in this way again. He bit his lip to staunch the tears that threatened to fall. This was no time to play the lovelorn suitor, they had a mission and a task they had undertaken and he had vowed to see it done successfully.
He watched the lambent glow of his one time lover, flickering gently ahead on the path and wanted to run and catch the slender body in his arms. ‘You promised to stay by my side, Legolas’ he wanted to cry, ‘Why have you turned me away?’
The night was cold and all were chilled by the time Legolas deemed it safe to stop. “No fire,” he warned the Hobbits. “Just go to sleep. Morning will come soon enough.”
Aragorn spread his blanket beneath him on the ground, wrapping himself in his cloak. The embers of passion had cooled and he felt an icy hand around his heart. His eyes were bleak as he watched the elf pace a perimeter and discuss the watch schedule with Boromir.
Gandalf watched the ranger closely. He was enveloped in a very faint glow and the wizard wondered if what he thought would come to pass had happened. He had often caught the intimate looks that passed between man and elf. He himself did not often have the gift of far sight, but before they had left Rivendell he had consulted with Elrond, who had confirmed that he saw a future in which Aragorn was paired with Legolas. He had been at a loss to explain the connection between Aragorn and Arwen, but assured Gandalf that their marriage would never be.
The glow around Aragorn was too pale to indicate a full bonding but it seemed that the friendship had begun to blossom. In that case, why was Aragorn looking so miserable? The wizard resolved to watch. It was a useful skill sleeping with one’s eyes open, one could see so much.
Legolas could feel Aragorn’s eyes upon him, but he did not look toward his friend. He could not. If he did he feared he might abandon the party and flee to the forests of Mirkwood to hide. Like many elves, he had a healthy sexual appetite although he was quite young for his kind. He had never satisfied that appetite with a male, let alone a man of another race, but he had no objection to doing so.
He’d felt dangerously seduced by the ranger. He’d had no idea of his own capacity for arousal and the man had raised him higher than he had ever flown. He had a passing thought while they made love that this was what he’d been searching for.
It wasn’t until Aragorn made the idle comment about his singing that Legolas realized just how much danger his friend posed to him. He had always enjoyed the man’s company; their friendship was one of the few joys in Legolas’ life and he was loath to give it up.
Now he saw his devotion for what it truly was: love wearing the disguise of friendship. He felt the tendrils of his soul pulling him toward Aragorn but he would resist, out of respect for the ranger’s promise to wed Arwen. He would make this sacrifice with a smile. It was all he could do.
He had not forgotten his promise to Aragorn to stay by his side, and no matter the cost to himself, he would keep that promise.
What had scared him so badly, however, was Aragorn’s ability to hear the song in his mind. He had not been singing, at least not out loud. That Aragorn could hear him had warned the elf that they were partially bonded already.
It was not unknown for elves to marry outside their race, but Aragorn had his destiny to follow. He would be a great king of a great kingdom, leading the peoples of Middle Earth to prosperity and peace. He could not do that with a male elf by his side. He needed heirs.
And so Legolas prepared himself to give up the love he had not known that he had. It was a cruel fate that led him to discover the truth of his own feelings too late to prevent the shattering of his heart, but what must be would be.
He stood guard as long as he could, pulled apart by the thrumming echoes in his body of their passionate encounter and by the pain in his heart. At last, he gave in to his body’s need for rest. He placed a gentle hand on Gandalf’s shoulder, asking silently for him to stand watch.
As he walked wearily to an empty spot he saw Aragorn curled on his side, shivering in the cold night air. ‘One last time,’ he thought and sank to curl his body against the man’s. Aragorn’s arm slid round his waist, pulling him closer as they spooned and he grunted in his sleep. ‘Give me just this little comfort and I will let him go,’ Legolas promised.
His turmoil was so great, he slipped into reverie gratefully.
~*~
Part Deux: Legolas
"We will make such a chase as shall be accounted a marvel among the Three Kindreds: Elves, Dwarves, and Men. Forth the Three Hunters!"
“Three days, three nights, no food, no rest,” Gimli grumbled as he ran in the rear.
“Your legs are too short, dwarf.”
“Pity I do not have pointy ears like yours to catch the wind like a sail. I’ve no doubt I would catch you then.”
Legolas’ sharp ears caught the dwarf’s complaint and he laughed softly as he ran. He and Aragorn took it in turns to take the lead, knowing the dwarf would remain in the rear, by virtue of his shorter legs.
As he ran his thoughts turned, as they had a thousand times before, to the magical hour they had shared in the moonlit glade. He wondered if Aragorn ever thought about that night, as he did.
The morning after, Legolas had awakened before the dawn, slipping out of the ranger’s unconscious embrace before the man woke. Only his fierce control enabled him to treat Aragorn as he always had, determined to protect his friend from any speculation by their friends. The underlying sorrow in Aragorn’s eyes broke his heart but he could do no other.
When it was his turn to run in the lead, he kept his pace even, knowing Aragorn could not run as fast as he, and Gimli was under even greater disadvantage. When Aragorn ran before him, Legolas feasted his eyes on the man’s broad shoulders, narrow hips and long legs even while he ached to be held in the strong arms once again, but he twisted subtly away from even the most casual touch from the ranger.
The grief over the deaths of Gandalf and Boromir had overshadowed their personal anguish, but man and elf chose to mourn alone, each in their own way. Both feared that the friendship, once so close, was in danger of breaking. However the universe had its own plans and the threads woven over the years of their devotion were stronger than rope and did not rupture so easily.
~*~
It seemed as if every joy must be paid for in blood. The three kindred had met Gandalf the white in Fanghorn Forest, found that Merry and Pippen were still alive and great was their joy.
Now Legolas stood at the edge of a cliff, dreading what he would see. The Orc had told him that Aragorn had gone over the cliff, his glove stuck in the harness of a runaway Warg. The fall was great and rushing waters tumbled at the bottom. The elf pictured his friend, torn and broken by the fall, being dragged under the fast waters and drowning. He ached for his friend. Now that it seemed he would not see Aragorn again, his immortal life stretched long and lonely before him.
He flinched when King Theoden said, “Leave the dead,” and again when the man touched his shoulder. Legolas closed his eyes, remembering Aragorn’s touch. He turned and followed the man and the dwarf, leaving behind the memory of his friend.
Numb with pain, he rode silently, the pull of Gimli’s arms around his waist the only thing that grounded him. He barely heard the clatter of his horse’s hooves as they rode up the ramp of Helm’s Deep.
His brain knew better but his heart insisted that Aragorn still lived and, while all around him mourned, Legolas went his silent way, helping to prepare for the assault all knew would come. He could find no rest in reverie; he paced the ramparts at night, wondering if he should have surrendered to Aragorn’s desires. His heart would have broken either way but at least he would have had the feeling of being claimed.
The sound of a commotion alerted him and he ran down the stairs, hearing Gimli’s broken greeting when the ranger rode in on Brego. Legolas stood, completely still, awaiting the man who’d claimed his heart. He could not keep a smile from his face when he took in the tattered tunic and greasy hair. Hardly a lovely sight, but beautiful to Legolas who thought he had looked his last upon the light filled eyes of his friend.
“You’re late,” Legolas said quietly. His eyes roved over the ranger, taking in the scrapes and bruises, the water-stained gauntlets. “You look terrible.”
Aragorn started to laugh, a low, welcome sound to the elf.
With renewed hope Aragorn looked into the eyes of his elf, seeing there the answer to his unspoken question. Legolas held out the jewel that had been wrenched from Aragorn’s neck by the Orc. Aragorn wanted nothing more than to brush the elf’s hand aside and take him in his arms, but he could not, not here in the main hall with all eyes upon them.
Arwen’s jewel held no meaning for him anymore, but he closed his hand over the elf’s, sparks igniting between them as their hands touched. “Thank you,” he said softly, while his eyes said, ‘We will live through this battle and I will claim you.’
Legolas could not keep the joy from his eyes, as his answered, ‘I will be yours.’
Recalling himself to his responsibilities, Aragorn broke their contact and went to the king to report the great horde of Uruk he had sighted on his way to the keep.
~*~
Legolas again stood upon the ramparts alone. The Uruk had been vanquished by men, elves and dwarf, retreating to meet their final destiny in the trees. On the morrow the Rohirrim would leave for Theoden’s castle, to plan their next move.
Tonight he wished to hold council with the stars and give thanks to the Valar that his love had been returned to him, whilst the king made plans with Aragorn and Gandalf.
A quiet step alerted him but he did not stir.
“I never see the moon that I don’t think of you, Prince of Moonlight.”
Legolas smiled to hear Aragorn address him thusly. “And you embody the warmth of the sun for me, ranger.”
“Why do you linger alone here, Legolas? There is food and drink below.”
“I have eaten and drunk my fill, mellon. I need… some peace.”
“Shall I leave you to your thoughts?”
Legolas turned and looked tenderly upon his ranger. “I cherish your company, a’mael.”
Aragorn paused on the cusp of turning away. “Did you mean that, what you said?” he asked in a voice that quivered.
“Beloved? Yes, I do,” Legolas said softly. He opened his arms and the ranger practically ran into the offered embrace.
“How long I have yearned to hold you, melethron,” Aragorn said huskily.
“And I you, Aragorn. When I thought you had met your death–”
“Shhh, I did not, I could not leave you, a’mael.” Aragorn ran his finger over Legolas’ lips. “Your lips curve like the wings of the sea bird,” he whispered. “Why did you leave me that night?”
Recollection flooded the elf’s mind and he strove to hide his anguish as he answered. “You heard me sing.”
“I have heard you sing before, beloved, and you did not run from me then. Why should this disturb you so?”
“I was weaving a melody in my mind, it had not passed my lips.” Seeing by the ranger’s uncomprehending look, Legolas continued. “It is the beginning of bonding, when one can hear the music of the mind.”
A look of ecstatic rapture spread over Aragorn’s face. “You would be willing to bond with me? I never dared to hope for such happiness…”
“It does not matter what I wish,” Legolas muttered, looking down. “You are promised to Arwen, but if you… want me, I am yours this night.”
Aragorn put a finger under Legolas’ chin to lift his face. “I am not promised to Arwen, beloved.”
“You wear her jewel,” Legolas pointed out.
“She is my foster sister, she loves me as such. She gave it to me for protection,” Aragorn explained. “The last night on the bridge she told me she had mistaken her feelings for me and loved another. I released her as she released me. She told me to follow my heart,” Aragorn added mischievously.
“To follow your heart on the quest?” Legolas asked stupidly. His head was reeling with the implications of Aragorn being free.
“She said my eyes followed you, from the moment I first saw you. She knew I loved you.”
“But–”
“No, not this time. We will overcome all obstacles in our path; I will not lose you again,” Aragorn said firmly. “Now, let us go to my room, we have some unfinished business.”
“Can we not stay here, under the stars?” The elf pleaded.
“No, we cannot, Legolas. I have fallen over a cliff, almost drowned and fought in an epic battle. The stars are beautiful but the stones are hard and cold. I would prefer a softer place to make you mine.”
“Very well,” Legolas capitulated, gladly following his ranger to the small room that had been allocated to him. Even he felt a certain lassitude come over him. It had been a long battle, hard fought and until the coming of Gandalf, the issue had hung in the balance. It seemed that it had been an age since he had found rest.
They stood for a moment, looking at each other, still in their battle soiled clothing and armour. Legolas stepped forward to help Aragorn unbuckle the gauntlets, kissing the bruises left at the edges of the leather. The tunic was next, followed by the shirt of chain mail. Bruises and scrapes adorned the ranger’s body and Legolas kissed each one as a sacrament.
Warmth began to stir Aragorn’s groin as he allowed Legolas to undress him and he groaned with each caress from the lips that had haunted his dreams. Careful fingers unlaced his leggings, pulling them down his long legs. The elf pushed Aragorn to sit on the bed and knelt to remove the man’s boots, followed by the leggings.
He looked up, gazing at the perfect outlines of Aragorn’s body, the rippling muscles and tough sinew under burnished skin, marred with bruises. “You are so beautiful, my beloved.”
“Now it is my turn,” Aragorn said as he rose, pulling the elf to his feet. He unbuckled the boiled leather armour that Legolas had been pressed to borrow, noticing that the pale flesh that lay underneath was marred with similar marks and scrapes. “You are hurt.”
“No more than you, my love,” Legolas responded. “And I shall be healed by the morrow, which you shall not.” He touched the worst bruise on Aragorn’s shoulder with regretful fingers, as if he could heal it with wishes.
Aragorn lifted the tunic and silken shirt over Legolas’ head, undressing him as if opening a rose one petal at a time, seeking to lay open the golden heart to his gaze. When at last the elf stood naked before him, Aragorn trembled that such loveliness was soon to be his.
“Come with me,” Aragorn said, holding his hand out to the elf. Unquestioningly Legolas followed him into the small anteroom, smiling when he saw the stone tub, filled with steaming water.
“When did you arrange this?” he murmured.
“You looked weary after the battle. And I know you hate the blood and dirt on your skin. Allow me to bathe you, melethron.” Aragorn took Legolas’ lips in a gentle kiss and assisted the slender elf to climb into the tub, following him promptly.
Legolas sighed as he leaned against the sloped back whilst Aragorn knelt between his spread legs. Solemnly, he lathered a cloth and lifting one arm, began to wash the elf, slowly and carefully.
Legolas lay passively, allowing Aragorn to rinse his hair and run the cloth over his limbs. The ranger trailed the cloth over the smooth chest, smiling as his fingers traced around the pink nipples, toying with them until they stood erect.
“Let me do this for you, melamin,” Aragorn said soothingly.
Legolas smiled at him and then closed his eyes, gasping as the ranger moved lower, carefully washing the elf’s lengthening shaft and velvet spheres. He spread his legs, allowing his lover greater access to do as he willed, offering himself to his love.
Aragorn worked the cloth into the dark cleft between the buttocks and Legolas moaned, his hips thrusting gently, setting the water moving.
Hastily, Aragorn washed himself and allowed the soiled water to drain, rinsing them both from the bucket of fresh water.
“Come with me now, a’maelamin.” Aragorn offered the elf his hand and Legolas stepped from the tub, breathing hard in anticipation. Aragorn led him, still glistening with droplets of water to the narrow bed.
“I have waited so long to tell you I love you, amin mela lle, Legolas,” Aragorn breathed.
“I love you too, Aragorn.” Legolas squirmed when Aragorn captured the elegantly pointed tip of his ear in his teeth and nibbled. “Oh, that feels so good.”
“You like that?” Delighted that he had found one of Legolas most sensitive spots, Aragorn applied himself, nipping, sucking and tugging lightly on the delicate points until the elf was almost undone, writhing with the strength of his arousal.
“Oh, please, Aragorn, do something, do something,” the poor elf cried out.
“I need you, beloved, I must take you. Let me please, I must be inside you.” Legolas could feel the ranger’s hands trembling with the fervour of his desire.
“Please, Aragorn… please take me… claim me…”
“You shall be mine and I shall be yours, beloved,” Aragorn promised as he fumbled for the oil. Pausing only to suck at one alluring nipple, he stroked the solid shaft with his oiled hand, moving lower to roll his elf lover’s spheres between his fingers. As he sucked on the sensitive pink nub, he pressed on the harder skin between balls and entrance, delighting in the shiver that ran through the elf’s body.
He circled the pink furled opening, seeking to relax the elf. Legolas could hardly bear the anticipation, every touch seemed to melt him. He splayed bonelessly on the bed, allowing his body to be moved as his lover willed it, unable to control his own limbs.
“Aragorn, I need to feel you between my thighs, I want to feel your sword inside me…” Legolas moaned softly.
“I can barely control my need of you when you lie so willing and wanton beneath me, beautiful elf,” Aragorn panted. “But I must prepare you, I would not hurt you, my love.”
Legolas took his beloved’s face in his hands. “You will not hurt me, melethron. Make haste.”
Aragorn pushed his finger to breach the narrow channel, gradually entering the hot, silky passage, listening to the gasps of pleasure from the elf. He moved slowly, seeking for the spot of pleasure, knowing he had found it when Legolas arched and groaned.
“Oh, when you touch me there, it’s as if all the stars of the heavens sparkle within me. I cannot wait to feel you fill me. More, please, my love.” Legolas spread his legs wide, aching to be filled.
“Soon, love.” Aragorn bit his lip, trying to control his haste. He added another finger, soothing the passage even as he widened the muscle with circular motions.
“Now, please, now! I need your sword in my sheath.” Legolas breathed heavily, his lovely eyes glazed over as he gasped for air. “I long for you to pierce my flesh.”
“Yes,” Aragorn said unsteadily. He could wait no longer. His beautiful elf looked like a wild thing, writhing in the moonlight and he slid between the warm thighs, pressing the long legs back against Legolas’ chest, gliding inside in one long stroke.
Legolas laughed, a wild erotic sound to Aragorn’s ears, and wrapped his legs around the ranger’s waist. “Now you are mine and I shall not let you go, ranger,” he declared triumphantly.
“Yours, always yours. I have always belonged to you, beloved,” Aragorn moaned raggedly, overcome with the blazing fires that burned within the elf, threatening to consume him, but he would gladly go up in smoke for the chance to claim his love at last.
Aragorn began to move slowly and Legolas arched up beneath him as the thick cock within him moved over the spot that gave him so much pleasure.
“I never thought I would bond with a man,” Legolas whispered as if to himself. “Fill me, love me, claim me, make me yours.”
“You are mine,” Aragorn said fiercely, biting down on the elf’s neck. “And I am yours for all the years allotted to me, we shall be together for all time.”
A single hot tear slid down the smooth cheek of the elf. He felt their bond strengthen with their joining; as if a golden light had been kindled within him, he could feel their souls knit together. The tear was for the moment of their bonding and also for the time when Aragorn would be taken from him. The mortal’s years were limited, while he was immortal and he would walk long years alone after Aragorn passed. Legolas wrapped his arms fiercely around his ranger, as if he could keep the inevitable at bay, but he was willing to purchase the joy of the few years they would have together with the agony that lay before him.
Aragorn felt the crushing embrace and moved faster, unable to hold back. Driven by instinct to plant his seed as deeply as possible, he thrust hard into the willing body under his, overjoyed to feel an answering thrust from the elf. They moved together as if they had made love for years, their rhythm perfectly matched, strength meeting strength.
Legolas felt Aragorn moving deeply within him and the stimulation was enough for him to find his release, hot as fire as it spurted over his chest and stomach. As he reached his climax, he felt his inner muscles clench involuntarily around the hard cock impaling him. He cried out as Aragorn thrust once more and released his essence deep inside.
They lay in a tangle of limbs, shiny with sweat, chest against flat chest as their hands soothed each other’s tremors. Legolas moaned as he felt the ranger slip from inside him.
“I did not hurt you, love?” Aragorn asked finally.
“Nothing to speak of,” Legolas answered with a kiss. “Besides, I think it is my turn.”
“Are you serious?” Aragorn lifted his weary head to gaze at Legolas. The elf’s gaze was merry but Aragorn read the purpose there. “You must be made of steel, my love.”
“Parts of me are,” Legolas joked, his hand on his stiffening elfhood. “And you are the forge in which I shall quench it.”
Aragorn chuckled. He rolled onto his back, spreading his arms and legs. “I am yours, do with me as you will.”
Legolas laughed and straddled his lover, holding his wrists over his head. “Do you yield to me, Aragorn Telcontar?”
“You know I do,” the ranger said. “I have never surrendered to another but I bow to you, my Prince of Moonlight.”
“And I to you, King of my heart,” Legolas said, suddenly serious. He bent to take Aragorn’s lips gently. The ranger stirred slightly and realized that the elf was right, once was not enough on this night of all nights. This night that they pledged their hearts to each other.
“Take me, Legolas,” Aragorn said in a helpless voice that Legolas would come to recognize when his lover particularly needed him.
“You do not know how long I have waited to hear you say that, beloved,” Legolas sighed. “Allow me to explore you.”
The urgency of their first love-making partially slaked, Legolas took his time discovering the body of his new lover. Every scar or mark had to be kissed, each nipple lovingly sucked and bitten, every swell of muscle caressed. He sucked each finger, watching Aragorn shiver with need.
Legolas rolled the man onto his stomach and smoothed his hands over tired muscles, digging into the alluring round buttocks with his fingers, moulding them until Aragorn sighed with pleasure.
Long before Legolas had finished his slow journey to the ranger’s toes, Aragorn’s cock stood, hard and dripping, awaiting more attention from his lover.
Longing to taste this most intimate part of his lover, Legolas bent to take him into his mouth. The salty taste and musky aroma pleased him; the man smelled so differently from the elves, but it was an erotic sensation.
Aragorn tried to keep his hips still but instinct drove him to thrust up into the hot, wet mouth caressing him so tenderly. Legolas continued to lick and suck until he felt Aragorn’s manhood swell further. He pressed firmly on the base of the cock, to Aragorn’s strangled objections.
“Hush, I wish you to find release with me, when I am buried deep inside you,” the elf quieted his lover.
Aragorn shivered in erotic anticipation.
Strong hands turned him and pulled him to his knees. Aragorn rested his head on his hands, waiting for his lover’s pleasure. His hips jerked as he felt the coolness of oil dribbled in his cleft. Legolas slid his fingers along the crease and Aragorn shivered again. Never had he realized the pleasure to be found in this area.
Instead of dread, he was suddenly filled with longing, not only to feel the elf’s cock inside him, but he needed the reassurance that he was wanted as much as he had desired Legolas. He wanted to be claimed in his turn.
Slowly, Legolas breached his lover with one finger, recalling the procedure Aragorn had followed. He searched inside and was delighted to discover a hardness on the inner wall. He knew the feeling of joy when Aragorn had stroked him there and he hoped it would be the same for the human. When Aragorn yelped and jerked, he knew he had found it. “Do you like this, a’mael?”
“Yes, oh yes… more… please…” Aragorn gasped.
Legolas smiled. He continued to stroke the passage, feeling the muscles quiver around his fingers. Aragorn rocked against his hand in desperation and Legolas judged it to be time.
He oiled his own cock and lined it up at the entrance exposed to him, watching with awe as the puckered skin stretched around his shaft and it disappeared into Aragorn’s body. The human was whimpering now, one hand moving on his own cock. Legolas rocked slightly to seat himself to the hilt and Aragorn pleaded for more.
Grasping his lover’s hips, Legolas pulled out slowly almost to the tip, then equally slowly sank himself back inside. Maintaining that pace, he made love to Aragorn slowly until the desperate man flung himself back against Legolas’ hips.
“By the Valar, move! Take me now!”
‘Spoken like a king,’ Legolas thought wryly. Gripping the lean hips more tightly, Legolas thrust hard and fast, pounding into Aragorn, who howled with delight. All too soon, Aragorn’s muscles clamped down tightly and Legolas found himself gasping with the suddenness of his release, shooting deep inside the man.
He collapsed over Aragorn’s sweaty, heaving back, panting for breath as he had not during their memorable run.
Aragorn searched blindly with his hand and clasped the back of Legolas’ thigh, holding him in position. “Stay inside me, melethron.”
“Forever, mela en' coiamin.”
“We are bonded, I feel it,” Aragorn whispered in awe.
“Forever, melamin. You are inside me and I am inside you.”
“Forever.”
~*~*~*~
Greg lay awake, watching the progress of the silvery shaft of moonlight across the floor of their bedroom. He lay spooned behind Nick, where they had fallen after he had “claimed” his ranger. Soon he would get up and draw the curtains so they could sleep in. It was so rare they both had the same night off, he didn’t want it to be over too early.
“What’re you thinking about so loudly back there?” Nick murmured.
“Why couldn’t I be the ranger in the second half?” Greg asked in an injured voice. “I ran as far as you did.”
Nick laughed. He had a feeling that wasn’t really what was on Greg’s mind, but whatever it was would bubble up eventually.
“Because you’re slender and beautiful, like an elf.”
“And you’re sweaty and dirty like a ranger?” Greg grinned in the darkness.
“I was only sweaty during the parts when you got me all hot,” Nick pointed out.
Greg snorted.
“You think the ranger and the elf were really fucking?” Nick asked.
“I never thought about it when I read the book but I was only fourteen then,” Greg answered. “But in the movie, are you kidding? I think they were all fucking except the girls.”
“Aragorn and Legolas?”
“Well if they weren’t, they were giving a damn fine imitation, all that eye fucking and touching,” Greg laughed.
“Do you feel bonded now?”
Greg took a sharp breath. Damn Nick anyhow, sometimes he was so clueless about emotions, bumbling along and then, out of the blue, a zinger. “I felt it before,” Greg said quietly.
Nick rolled over and took Greg’s face in his hands. “I did too, baby. I felt it the first time we were together, even though I ran from you.”
“Why did you run so fast?”
“I was scared. This thing between us was so huge, it just hit me like a truck, flattened me. I couldn’t believe it.”
“Do you believe it now?”
“You make me believe in us more and more everyday.”
Greg pushed Nick onto his back and snuggled into him, draping himself comfortably over his boyfriend.
“Do you worry about me dying before you?” Nick asked softly. “I am older–”
“And you have this habit of having guns pulled on you.”
“Answer the question,” Nick said, digging into Greg’s ribs.
“I try not to think about it.”
“Is that what that tear was about?”
‘Damn,’ Greg thought, ‘Thought that slipped past.’
“I can’t imagine what my life would be like without you,” Greg answered at last.
“You won’t have to, babe, I’m always going to be with you,” Nick said reassuringly. “Even if I go before you, I’ll always be in here.” He touched Greg’s chest. “And you’ll be here.” He took Greg’s hand and held it flat on his chest where Greg could feel the solid thud of Nick’s heartbeat.
“I love you.”
“Love you too, babe.”
~*~
a'mael - beloved
mellon - friend
melethron - male lover
mellonamin - my friend
melamin - my love
amin mela lle - I love you
A'maelamin - my beloved
Mela en' coiamin - love of my life
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Date: 2006-05-05 07:04 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-05-06 07:49 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-05-05 08:15 am (UTC)I love this part. I always loved Legolas anyway. I knew they left out the best parts of the movie :D
Greg as Legolas, this is such a great idea and such a cute image. And the sex scneen between them was so great, usually all these scenes are great, but I liked this one in particular. Don't really know why.
The end was nice, although very quit serious at some points. I kinda start getting the impression that Nick has a tiny little problem with the age gap between him and Greg. Or maybe that's just me imagine thing again.
I was wondering if this one was the 'sequel' to NewYearsBoys, where Nick gets that little present from Greg and has to chose a book, a movie or a fantasy. If this isn't the 'sequel' is there ever going to be one? *puppyeyes*
I still love the series and this is honestly the highlight of my week :D
Great work
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Date: 2006-05-06 07:52 am (UTC)Thank you very much, sweetie. Your comments are the highlight of mine. :-D Vielen Dank.
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Date: 2006-05-06 09:51 am (UTC)and....My pleasure. Commenting is always great, especially commenting your work
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Date: 2006-05-06 08:32 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-05-06 09:01 pm (UTC)Since I'm not really a fan of Aragorn/legolas or /Viggo/Orli I think that movie wouldn't be really interesting fo me, except! you would see Orli naked and I knwo you...so there would be plenty of nude Orli, wouldn't there?:D
I'm such a Orlifangirl. I even bought a calander like 2 years ago. I actually considered stealing it, since I knew the lokks I would get when paying for it. But I bought it in the and :D And it was so worth it :D
Poor Eric, all on his own, without his Georgie-boy.
Steward Townsend as Aragorn? No way. that would have been not really a great desicion. Okay in the end Viggo played his part so great, you can't possibly think about someone else playing it :D
How often does Nick get to out-wicked Greg? Ahmm... hm...I would kinda guess...Never? *just my guess lol*
And my icon was actually pure coincidence, since my friend send me the Greg-pic via MSN while I was looking at the Nick-pic in my photobucket and just thought...That would be a great icon lol. Someimes live is easy :D But thanks anyway. And no, I didn't notice that it was like 2 times, but I did notice that Nick was more muscular :D
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Date: 2006-05-06 11:16 pm (UTC)Now I have had Nick out-wicked Greg a couple times, like in DanceformeBoyz and it's so fun. Nick is much more muscular than Greg, which is why he often gets to throw Greg around in my fics. Aside from it being sexy. Greg is an ectomorph; he can work out till the cows come home (moo!) and he'll never look like Nick. :-D
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Date: 2006-05-06 11:30 pm (UTC)You don't have a calender? OMG, how great is that. I have to confess I hide mine kinda, cause I know if someone will ever see it they will give me such a hard time. *the best friends you could ask for :D*
I knew about Viggo not being te first choice but had no clue that stuart was planned as originally Aragorn. No that wouldn't have been right. I mean...he is way to...young and kinda... he's just not 'forrest-like' enough *this word is so not existing but I don't really care :D*
No Viggo was the better choice. But I also think they kinda went wrong with Sean Astin as Sam, he just...I don't know .. didn't see him as sam to be honest.
Imagine Greg looking like Nick *meaning the arms and the muscels in gemeral*... no that wouldn't look good, he's skinny, slender, kinda thin Greggo, and not wannabe Mr.Universe. Okay Nick isn't Mr. Universe either, but he isn't skinny and slender. They're just perfect the way they are :D
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Date: 2006-05-08 02:16 am (UTC)Actually I think forest-like is perfect. Stuart Townsend seems like he was born in a suit, where Viggo is like a chameleon the way he inhabits the various parts he's played. Sean Astin was sort of annoying and he and Lij both had slippy slidey accents. Now we're English, now we're mercan! But Sean Bean as Boromir? Perfect. I really have not complaints about most of the others. I thought the entire Eowyn character was annoying and if you see the EE version of TT, she bellows the mourning song like a cow in heat.
I can't even imagine Greg as buffed as Nick, but I love the skinny, lanky guys. I think he's perfect just as he is with his adorkable little tricep dimple and Nick is perfect and they're perfect together. :-D
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Date: 2006-05-08 05:41 pm (UTC)I don't like Sean Astin, but actually loved Elijah *blame it on my age :D* I love his eyes, so wonderful blue, but no I don't have a calender of him. :D
I actually didn't like Boromir, since he was so strange at the end. But Sean was great.
I also liked Eowyn, she was the one trying to get Theodron *was that even his name?* back, or the old one, and not the one who was under the influence of that guy *I have no clue what's his english name* the one with the black hear and who was friends with Saruman.
But I loved Billy, when he sung, that was so wonderful. Eowyn did sing? Must have missed that, although I saw EE of TT :D
You know Greg doesn't need to have these muscular arms, all he needs is these muscular arms wrapped tightly around him :D And of course they're perfect together :D
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Date: 2006-05-05 01:54 pm (UTC)It was kind of hard for me to understand some parts because I've never watched/read LOTR, but you did a great job once again.
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Date: 2006-05-06 07:54 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-05-05 02:50 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-05-06 07:55 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-05-05 04:30 pm (UTC)~Tracy
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Date: 2006-05-06 07:56 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-05-06 12:04 pm (UTC)But I LOVED the icon that goes with the story:-)And I enjoy the series as a whole and admire the different styles you use for every fantasy.
Sorry for not being enthused, but since I always comment I figured I should also be brave enough to let you know that it didn't 'wow' me;)
Legolas/Greg is very sexy and the other characters are well done (GimliBrass=brilliant:), but it's just not my fandom -LOTR didn't really do it for me- and prefered style, I'm more into SciFi than Fantasy as a genre.
How about some Science-Boyz?It's very Greg though, as their conversation afterwards makes clear (but I'm kind of thinking Nick is on my side;)no subject
Date: 2006-05-06 08:37 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-05-07 05:57 am (UTC)But I can easily see them playing out those scenes each finding a character that they like. Changing the language would be so Greg. I doubt that he can do anything by half measure. I think it's great that you are able to change the style enough to make it sound LOTR like.
Love A