Title & Chapter Number: The Hand of the King 1-7/46
Author(s): - Author's Index
Website: Dalo's Archive
Fandom: Middle Earth
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: Characters not mine. I'm just a guy who loves guys loving guys, filling in some gaps, with all due respect to Tolkien.
Warnings: Slash (duh), Angst. Homosexual relationships and acts. Nothing kinky, but definitely down and dirty at times (we're talkin' NC-17, folks). You gotta problem wit dat? Here's a tip: DON'T READ IT!!!
Betas: Elfscribe (Luv ya!)
Cast: Legolas/Aragorn/Boromir/A surprise
Timeline: January 17-20, 3019 Third Age
Spoilers: None
Summary: While recovering from Moria in Lothlórien, the Fellowship discovers a mysterious phenomenon that could threaten the future of all.
Notes: Dedication: "The Hand of the King" was written as an expression of love for my partner, Jon, who at times is my Legolas, and other times my Aragorn. Gerich veleth nín, Jonathan. Thank you for loving me so completely. "My heart will be yours until the end of time."
"It seemed to him that he had stepped over a bridge of time into a corner of the Elder Days, and was now walking in a world that was no more. In Rivendell there was memory of ancient things; in Lórien the ancient things still lived on in the waking world. Evil had been seen and heard there, sorrow had been known; the Elves feared and distrusted the world outside; wolves were howling on the wood's borders; but on the land of Lórien no shadow lay."
- The Fellowship of the Ring
~*~*~*~
Chapter 1
Aragorn knew Lothlórien was safe, but he felt apprehensive nonetheless.
Boromir's words echoed in his head. "I will find no rest here," the warrior had said. "I heard a voice inside my head. She spoke of my father and the fall of Gondor. She said to me, 'Even now there is hope left.' But I can't see it. It is long since we've had any hope."
Hope. Gandalf had carried the last remnants of hope into the abyss when he fell.
Aragorn stood by a silver pool of water, staring at the moonlight reflecting off its shimmering surface.
He was numb.
All of his grief and despair he kept at bay, an internal battle more fierce than any swordfight he had ever fought.
He had left Boromir and the rest of the Fellowship as they slept. Although he had tried to sleep, he shared Boromir's despair of finding any rest tonight. His dreams were more perilous than the road before them.
In his dreams, Arwen held him and stroked his hair, offering her solace to his pain. He dared not accept it. For as soon as he allowed himself to release the darkness threatening his resolve, all was lost. He feared that he would not be able to find his way back. He must maintain control.
For he was needed. The Halflings needed his protection and Boromir needed his leadership. He wasn't certain what Gimli needed, but felt the dwarf looked to him for direction. Even Arwen needed him to understand and accept her sacrifice, something he would never be able to do.
The only one who didn't seem to need him was Legolas. The mysterious elf prince was ever at his side, but never needing assistance. Aragorn was thankful for that. He already felt pulled in too many directions, and had little left to give to anyone.
He hadn't seen Legolas for several hours, and wondered where he might be. He assumed the elf was with his kindred. A prince needed to fulfill his ambassadorial duties, after all.
Nevertheless, he missed the elf's reassuring presence, and was descending into despair. The only thing halting his fall was his resolve.
And that brink was growing more perilous with each passing moment.
He sank to the soft grass beside the pool and sighed deeply. He was suddenly aware that he had not bathed in days, and his odour offended him. He pulled off his right boot, and then his left. He looked around, feeling as if he were being watched from the shadows, and then chastised himself for forgetting where he was. He stripped to the waist, and then waded into the silver pool to bathe.
~*~*~*~
Chapter 2
"It is long since we've had any hope."
The night breeze carried Boromir's lament to his Elven ears. He watched as Aragorn sat beside the grieving man, and then turned away. He felt as if he were intruding, even though he stood a fair distance away from the two humans as they discussed the beauty of their homeland. Legolas could not understand the appeal of hulking cities of stone, with little or no flora. How could anyone live like that, let alone be happy to do so? Humans were indeed a mystery.
He left them to their reverie and began to explore the area surrounding the pavilion that had been prepared for them. He had long desired to see Lothlórien, and would take this opportunity, grievous though it may be, to acquaint himself with the forest, which seemed vibrant, even though it was well into night. It reminded him of the beauty of the Lady Galadriel, full of strength and grace, with an edge of danger. He walked until he came upon a silver pool. The moonlight reflecting off the surface soothed him, and he soon found himself kneeling on the grassy bank.
The fall of Mithrandir was still a mystery. He remembered watching the hobbits outside the tomb that was Moria. Their forlorn grief had broken his heart. Gandalf was gone? How could that be? The loss of the Grey Pilgrim finally penetrated his confusion, and his own grief overtook him. His sobs were deep, but quiet. His nobility precluded any hysterics.
As his grief poured out from him, he opened himself up completely to the communion with the forest and was slowly filled with its beauty and power. It was not a rush of energy, but rather a slow rising tide. It filled every dark corner of his wounded spirit like the sun breaking over a distant mountain peak, until it ultimately overtook him completely and he collapsed, tears of grief transformed into tears of joy.
Seeing the streaks his tears left on his skin, he realized that he still carried the dust of Moria, and wished to rid himself of it immediately. He removed his clothing and waded into the pool, discovering it was deeper than it appeared, allowing him to submerge without having to lie down. The opposite bank was shrouded with a bank of dense shrubs, creating a home for any number of woodland creatures. After swimming around a bit, Legolas began to scrub his skin in earnest. He undid the braids in his hair, allowing it to fall around his shoulders and back. Diving headfirst into the water, he scrubbed his hair and scalp until the strands squeaked between his fingers.
Having completed his bath, he lay floating on his back, staring at the moon. His hand roamed sensuously over the muscles of his chest and abdomen, his nerve endings still buzzing from the communion. He was surprised to discover that he was becoming aroused. This had not happened in quite a while. The image of Aragorn placing a reassuring hand on Boromir's shoulder flashed across his mind. Now where did *that* come from?
Before he could draw any conclusions, he heard footsteps approaching. Not wishing anyone to witness his arousal, he quickly submerged and surfaced under the canopy of the opposite bank. He remained very still to avoid creating any ripples on the water's surface, thereby betraying his presence. The surface had scarcely cleared before the intruder appeared in the clearing. Legolas recognized the human gait, trained by elves for stealth. Aragorn walked as if Moria were caving in on him, so great was the burden he carried.
He walked slowly to the pool, seemingly hypnotized by the shimmering moonlight. He stood at the edge and stared into the water. Then after a moment, he fell to his knees and sighed heavily.
Legolas was surprised to find that he had not taken a breath since the man entered the clearing. Recalling his earlier indiscretion, he inhaled quietly. His nose wrinkled, mirroring the ranger's expression of distaste. Legolas hoped Aragorn would bathe, if for no other reason than to remove the stench. Aragorn apparently shared his thought, as he removed his boots, stripped to the waist and entered the pool.
Time slowed to a crawl as Legolas watched Aragorn bathe. His Elven eyes were able to discern the smallest detail, and Legolas memorized the man's body, fascinated by its bestial ruggedness. The body hair of humans was considered distasteful by many of his kin, but Legolas found himself fascinated by it. The man submerged himself, then stood up, running his fingers through his hair. Legolas saw that the hair on the man's forearms crept over his wrists and covered the back of his hands. Confused memories washed over him as he remembered his first encounter with Aragorn.
~*~*~*~
Legolas had been to Rivendell many times, but this time was different. His father had received a summons from Elrond for an important meeting of the Council. Details had been withheld, but it was clear that dire circumstances lie behind the summons. The prince dreaded having to share the news of Gollum's escape. He took some small respite from the fact that the creature had apparently been kidnapped by Orcs, for some hidden purpose. Nevertheless, he felt obligated to do whatever necessary to atone for his people's weakness of heart.
He had already spoken to Gandalf, humbly apologizing for failing to fulfill the wizard's directive. Gandalf absolved him and his people of any blame. "He had help, you know. Kindness of heart and willingness to believe a creature can change should never be the subjects of regret. Be at peace, young prince."
Legolas now searched for Estel, the human raised in the house of Elrond, to extend his apologies. Although Gandalf had forgiven him, Legolas needed to receive absolution from the ranger as well. He encountered the Lady Arwen in the antechamber of the Hall of Elendil. He dipped his head and placed his hand over his heart in deference as she approached.
"My Lady, can you tell me where I may find the one named Estel?"
Arwen looked into his eyes as if she were looking into his very soul. Her time with the Lady Galadriel had transformed her into a being of great power and compassion. And sorrow. He could see it in her eyes. She knew things hidden from others. Her sight extended beyond the physical and into the realm of mystery.
"Prince Legolas." Her voice was tinged with sadness, but sounded like music to his ears. "Be strong, for he will need you. Lend him your strength when he has lost his way, for I shall not be there to comfort him."
Legolas furrowed his brow, confused by her words. "My lady, I would do as you ask, if only I understood. I do not know this Estel, and know not what strength he may need. You speak as if a journey lies before us both."
"Indeed. A perilous journey that will claim many lives to save many lives. The destinies of the Man King and the Elven Prince will forever be intertwined."
"Man King, my Lady?"
"Estel is the name our people gave to him when he came to us. Among his own, he is Aragorn, son of Arathorn, heir of Isildur."
Legolas was surprised that his father had not mentioned this fact. Estel had delivered Gollum to Mirkwood while Legolas was away, and the prince missed meeting this mysterious human about whom he had heard so much.
"You will find him within." She fixed him with her gaze once more, touched her hand to his heart. "Be true." She leaned forward to kiss him on the cheek, then turned and walked away.
Legolas was not entirely sure what to make of this encounter. What journey could she see? Did it have something to do with tomorrow's council?
Legolas did not linger in contemplation, turning his attention to the grand hall beyond. As he entered the room, a figure stood with his back to him, silhouetted against the shaft of light illuminating the shards of Narsil. The man raised his arm and reached into the light to touch the hilt of the sword. The hands were rough, but they stroked the handle with great tenderness. The back of the hand and fingers were dusted with dark hair leading up the wrist and disappearing into the sleeves of the man's tunic. Legolas felt his breath catch unexpectedly in his chest. His quiet gasp halted the hand in mid-stroke. Inexplicably nervous, Legolas felt the need to speak into the silence.
"Aragorn?"
"Yes?" The man did not turn. He did not move at all.
"I am Legolas Greenleaf, son of Thranduil, of Mirkwood."
"I know who you are, Prince Legolas."
"If you know me, then please allow me to know you, and show me your face."
The man then turned to face Legolas, still in silhouette. Legolas took a step closer, and the man reciprocated, stepping into the light. Legolas had never seen a face so handsome. The man's strong jaw was softened by a peppered beard, closely trimmed. His dark brown hair hung in waves of silken locks, barely reaching the man's shoulders. The man's piercing grey eyes looked directly into Legolas' own, rendering him momentarily mute. The man held out his right hand in greeting.
"I am Aragorn, son of Arathorn." Legolas reached out and grasped the extended hand. As he did, a sudden vision flashed across his mind. He saw himself on a tremendous wall, fighting side by side with Aragorn in the pouring rain against a seemingly endless army of Orcs.
"It is an honor to meet the Golden Prince of Mirkwood. Your father was a most gracious host last I ventured into your realm. Be welcome in the house of Elrond."
The man's words reached him through a fog. He shook his head, hoping to shake the vision from his mind.
"Prince Legolas?" Aragorn wore a face of concern. "Are you well?"
The elf forced himself to focus on the man in front of him. "It is an honor to meet the heir of Isildur."
Aragorn cocked his head to one side and asked, "Is it possible that we have met before?"
"No, we have not."
""Tis strange," the man mused, with a puzzled expression on his face.
Legolas was finding it difficult to maintain the conversation. There was something about this man that made him feel strangely excited. His heart raced and he was repeatedly reminding himself to breathe. Forces beyond his comprehension were at work here, and the only thing he could think of was extricating himself from this moment so he could regain his composure.
"Thank you for your welcome, Aragorn. I will withdraw now to prepare for tomorrow's council. I look forward to seeing you there." He deferred and turned to go.
"It was good to finally meet you, Prince Legolas."
He turned back to face the man. Their eyes locked for a long moment. "And you as well." Another long moment, and then Legolas broke his gaze and left the room. Outside in the antechamber, he stopped and supported himself against the wall. "What sorcery is this?" he muttered. "My body betrays me. Is this magic or madness?" He drew himself up, mustering all the self-control he could find, and walked away without looking back. He didn't realize until later that, in his confusion, he had neglected to ask Aragorn's forgiveness for Gollum's escape. Unfortunately, that would have to wait until tomorrow's council. Tonight, he had to find some way to pull himself together and focus on whatever crisis may be at hand.
~*~*~*~
Legolas scrutinized the Dúnadan standing motionless in the center of the pool. The stark contrast between the man he met in Rivendell and the man who stood before him now was disturbing. The desolation of spirit was palpable, and Legolas longed to assuage the man's despair. As in Rivendell, he was inexplicably compelled to speak the man's name.
~*~*~*~
Chapter 3
The water was cool on his skin, but Aragorn took no comfort from it. As he slowly walked into the pool, Boromir's words continued their litany.
It is long since we've had any hope.
It is long since we've had any hope.
It is long since we've had any hope.
When he reached the center of the pool, he submerged himself and then stood up, running his fingers through his hair. He stopped with his hands locked behind his neck.
It is long since we've had any hope.
It is long since we've had any hope.
His arms slowly dropped to his sides as he stared into space. He was losing. Losing the fight. Losing his courage. Losing his resolve.
Losing himself.
"Aragorn?" He heard his name, but did not have the energy to be alarmed. "Aragorn," the voice repeated.
He looked up to discover Legolas standing a few feet away from him in the water. He looked into the elf's eyes and found a well of compassion he was not expecting. His wall began to crumble. A gasp of panic escaped him as his defenses began to give way. He gritted his teeth and fought to maintain his resolve. He would not allow the dark wings beating around his head to breach the barricade around his heart. He clenched his fists and struggled to keep from trembling.
The elf watched him with an expression of sadness on his face, his head tilted to one side, as if imploring Aragorn to release his grief. An enormous fissure was forming in his fortification, and he could feel all control slipping away. A choked sob managed to break through, and then the dam gave way. The tears flowed, trailing down his cheeks and disappearing into his beard.
Legolas stepped toward him and embraced him tightly. Aragorn was unable to hold back any longer, and his anguish broke through, wracking his body with deep sobs of grief and loss. He wrapped his arms around the elf's torso, clinging to him as a drowning man will cling to driftwood. Legolas held him as he surrendered completely to his emotions, burying his face in the elf's neck. In a dark corner of his mind, it registered that the handsome elf was naked, but it was quickly washed away by the flow of tears.
Later, after the sorrow had run its course and Aragorn had regained his composure, Legolas held him by the arms and looked him over.
"You look terrible," he said with a wry smile. Aragorn was surprised to find that he was able to smile back in return. He probably did look terrible. "I'll return in a moment. Finish your bath," instructed the naked elf as he walked out of the pool and disappeared into the trees.
Aragorn complied as he watched for his companion's return. He stripped off his leggings and tossed them on the large rocks at one end of the pool. He had never been much of an exhibitionist, but found the experience oddly exhilarating. The elves felt no shame of the naked body. Until he was a young man, Aragorn had never thought twice about nudity, his own or others.
It was only when he ventured out into the world of Man that he discovered the vulnerability and shame humans associated with the naked body. He had adopted the new conservancy not from any sense of shame, but rather as a form of defense. The heavy protective clothing he now wore served two-fold as a suit of emotional armor. He covered his body as he covered the light of his heritage, not feeling worthy to receive fealty from anyone. The only person who had seen him naked as an adult had been Arwen during an ill-advised late night swim. In fact the only sexual experience Aragorn had was in the ways of pleasuring oneself.
Legolas returned, clutching a plant with golden leaves, which he dropped on the grass next to the ranger's discarded clothes. Aragorn watched as the elf spread the ranger's cloak on the grass beside the pool and sat down on its fur lining. He looked up to catch Aragorn staring at him.
The elf looked back at him with such acceptance and tenderness that he felt himself blush. He dropped his head and pretended to focus on ridding himself of weeks of dirt and grime and blood.
Having this handsome prince watch him as he bathed was something for which he was not entirely prepared. Ordinarily, he would try to control the situation, to take charge. But tonight the strength was not in him. He decided to abandon himself to the moment. He looked up at his companion. The elf met his eyes and smiled.
~*~*~*~
Chapter 4
Legolas smiled as Aragorn looked up at him. The ranger's distress was still evident, and Legolas was moved by the depth of the man's anguish. The man took one more plunge under the water for a final rinse, and then walked to the bank and sat on the cloak beside the elf. Legolas could feel the heat from Aragorn's body next to him.
"I thank you for your kindness, Legolas." The man's head was down, arms wrapped around the knees drawn to his chest.
But Legolas was not finished. "The body may be cleansed, but your spirit is still suffers." He reached over and placed his hand on the man's shoulder. "Will you allow me to help you find a measure of peace?"
Aragorn lifted his head and turned to face him. The man was lost and broken, and his eyes told Legolas that he needed and wanted the elf's assistance.
"Then turn and lay on your stomach. I will attempt to ease your pain." The man complied without hesitation. Legolas took the plant he had retrieved and broke the stalk, releasing a sweet-smelling oil, which he rubbed between his hands. He straddled Aragorn's waist, and reached forward to massage the man's shoulders. The muscles were as hard as stone.
"Relax," he whispered, as his hands kneaded the knots in Aragorn's neck. The man groaned in response beneath him. Legolas discovered he liked the sound, and was pleased when his subject continued the vocal approvals. The tension in the man's shoulders and neck began to diminish, so he began to move down the taut muscles of his companion's back.
Centuries ago, he had been with an Elven male. Nere'alon had been his name. He remembered how Nere'alon's body felt under his hands. Lithe and delicate, with skin like alabaster. But the muscular and powerful body beneath him tonight exuded a passion that only the short-lived humans could enjoy.
Legolas was stunned to discover that he was becoming aroused once again. His earlier erection had disappeared the moment he had seen Aragorn's distress. But now, as he admired the man's physique, it was rekindled. He froze midstroke as he suddenly realized what it was about this man that affected him so.
He wanted Aragorn. And badly.
~*~*~*~
Chapter 5
Aragorn felt the tension draining from him under Legolas' talented hands. "Relax," whispered the elf. The warm breathe in his ear sent a hot surge through his body. The only sound he could make was a groan of pleasure. Legolas seemed to know exactly the amount of pressure needed to release the tension without causing excessive pain. The hands continued their way down his back, and then stopped abruptly.
He felt Legolas moving backwards, and then spreading the man's legs to kneel between them. The hands kneaded his buttocks, and then continued their way down his right thigh, focusing momentarily on the small muscles and ligaments of the knee, and then moving down his calf and ankle, finishing with a foot rub that had Aragorn moaning, a deep purr rumbling in his chest. Nothing in his experience had ever felt this good. The elf moved to the man's left thigh, and repeated the journey down the leg to the foot.
When he finished, Aragorn was so relaxed he could have slept for days. But Legolas had moved again. He felt the elf moving up and then lowering himself onto Aragorn's back. He felt a hot column of flesh pressed between their bodies. His awareness quickened when the elf whispered into his ear.
"Do you trust me, Aragorn?"
"With my life, Legolas." His reply was barely more than a whisper itself, but Aragorn knew the elf heard him.
"Then trust this: The initial pain will pass, giving way to incredible pleasure." He paused. "Do you trust me still?"
"Yes, Legolas," he replied, but with less certainty.
Legolas responded by kissing his shoulder. His whole body, which was completely relaxed only a moment ago, was suddenly energized, every nerve ending buzzing with pleasure. The velvet lips trailed down his spine. When they reached the small of his back, he felt Legolas' hands on his thighs, spreading his legs apart once more. He knew what was coming next, but did not move to stop it. He had already decided to let Legolas take the lead tonight.
He needed someone to take the lead.
~*~*~*~
Chapter 6
Legolas knelt between the ranger's legs, surveying the man spread-eagled before him. It was one of the most arousing sights he had ever seen. He was captivated by the man's body hair. The buttocks had a very fine dusting. But the thighs were covered with soft brown hair that Legolas could no longer resist. He leaned down and kissed the right inner thigh, licking the hairs flat onto the skin. Then he moved to the other thigh, and repeated the kiss. He continued this process moving up the insides of Aragorn's thighs, eliciting groans from the man, who had begun grinding his hips against the cloak beneath him.
Legolas finally reached the pinnacle, and began his final assault by gently blowing on the man's opening. Aragorn shivered with pleasure. A loud groan escaped the man's lips when the elf's hot tongue made contact. Taking the groan as approval, he continued kissing and nibbling and licking and sucking on the pink ring, preparing it for the next step.
He broke another plant stalk for more oil, which he applied to the sensitive flesh. He used his index finger to rub the outside of the man's hole, spiraling inward until he slowly inserted his finger to the first knuckle. Aragorn gasped and instinctively tried to pull away, but Legolas held him fast.
"Remember what I said: The initial pain will pass, giving way to pleasure. Do you trust me still?"
After a moment, the man replied. "Do as you will."
Legolas withdrew his finger, then reinserted it, this time a little further. And again, a little further. Aragorn's groans were through gritted teeth now. When he felt the man had relaxed sufficiently, he added a second finger to his probing. He stretched the opening with his fingers, slowly teaching it to relax enough to add a third finger. When Aragorn began to push back onto his fingers, Legolas knew it was time.
~*~*~*~
Chapter 7
"Do you trust me still?"
Aragorn hesitated at this final submission. He had trusted Legolas with his tortured spirit, but by releasing his body to the elf, he would be surrendering the last remnant of control that still remained in his grasp. He could stop this now, if he so wished.
But he did not so wish. What he wished was for all these choices and responsibilities to just go away. If only for a moment.
"Do as you will," he finally acquiesced.
Aragorn had no frame of reference for this experience. Pain becoming pleasure. That just didn't make sense. But it was nevertheless true. The finger had hurt initially, but then the sensation changed. There was still pain, but it felt incredible. The elf's fingers were causing sensations that had the man's head spinning. He pushed his hips back onto the fingers that stroked him.
Then the hand abruptly withdrew. He heard and smelled yet another plant stalk being broken for oil. Then Legolas was above him again, lowering himself onto him. He felt the intrusion, but did not resist. He wanted this. He wanted Legolas to take him. He tried to assist by raising his hips, giving the elf a better angle. Legolas slid into Aragorn ever so slowly, giving the man time to acclimate before moving further. But Aragorn wanted to feel Legolas completely inside him, and backed into him, impaling himself on Legolas' shaft. Aragorn cried out in a mixture of pain and ecstasy. This was beyond bliss.
Legolas slowly withdrew all but just the tip of his organ, and then filled him again. And again. So . . . slowly. Each thrust a long sensuous stroke. Again. Again. Slowly. Slowly. Each thrust pushed his own erection against the cloak beneath him, the friction adding to the sensations screaming through his body.
Legolas began to hasten his pace, and Aragorn knew he would not last much longer. His groans were getting louder, timed to the elf's quickening thrusts. He had his head on his folded arms, and stuffed the side of his hand into his mouth to stifle his increasing moans. He felt Legolas' shaft grow larger yet as the elf began pounding himself into Aragorn with abandon. The Dúnadan felt the eruption start to rise in his loins, and then sensed Legolas joining him in his climax as they both exploded, crying out in unison as their bodies trembled and shook in ecstasy. A blinding light blasted through his mind in an orgasm unlike any before, and he surrendered to it completely, letting it wash over him again and again and again.
Then, before his body could begin to recover, a warm glow began deep within his chest. It continued to grow, filling his entire body with light and warmth and love. It was like nothing he had ever experienced, and he wondered what was happening, though not alarmed. The golden light continued to grow until it overtook his senses completely, and as his body continued to tremble, he lost consciousness.
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