Title & Chapter Number: The Hand of the King 8-10/46
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."
Chapter 8
Aragorn stood upon Cerin Amroth, dressed in white, gazing westward into the twilight. He had stood here before. And he had not been alone. He turned his head.
"Arwen!"
"Melethron-nîn." Her beauty took his breathe away. "I will cleave to you, Dúnadan, and turn from the Twilight."
"'Tis a dream," he muttered in disbelief.
"Then 'tis a good dream," she answered with a smile, kissing his lips.
Aragorn suddenly recalled what had sent him into this dream, and felt the blood rush to his face. He dropped his gaze, certain she could tell. "Why do you blush, my love?"
"I have failed you," he replied. Her gentle laughter brought his head up again in question. "Does my confession amuse you?"
"No, my love." She smiled patiently. "Your innocence brings me joy."
Aragorn thought she was covering her true reaction, but did not trust his judgment. "Am I so innocent?"
"Indeed, for you believe that our love can be touched by others." She kissed him softly. "It cannot. We share a love that transcends the realms of both Elf and Man."
"But my actions have betrayed that love," he protested.
"How have you betrayed our love, Estel?" Aragorn could tell that she already knew the answer, but wanted him to say the words aloud.
"Legolas . . . and I . . . " he began.
"Yes?" she prompted.
"We...I . . . he made love to me."
"As he was instructed."
Aragorn's mind was spinning. "Instructed? By whom?"
"I spoke with the prince in Rivendell." Aragorn's reality was losing its precarious balance. Arwen had encouraged this?
"But we are betrothed. Why would you do this? Was it to test my resolve? My loyalty?"
"I have no need to test either."
"Then why? We have promised ourselves to each other. And now I am unable to come to you pure of heart and body. Why would you instruct Legolas to take what should have been yours?"
"Legolas has taken nothing from you, Estel. And he has given you more than you know. What you have shared with him is not the same as the bond shared by you and me. There are many kinds of matings. The love between two companions can be strong indeed. You and Legolas share a common road, and it is destiny that you should lean on each other. He has proven to be my true friend by following my wishes to aid you in your time of need. Allow him to be your friend as well. He already loves you and wishes to break through the wall of solitude you have so effectively built."
"So my dalliance with him does not displease you?"
She ran her delicate finger down the bridge of Aragorn's nose, coming to rest on his lips. "No, my love. I rejoice at your Communion with Legolas. It is a moment you will never forget." She brought his hand to her lips, kissing the spot where he had drawn blood, piercing his own flesh in the throes of orgasm. "As it should be." She kissed his palm, then placed it against her heart. He could feel its steady rhythm spread up his arm, into his whole body. He felt his own heart fall into step with its beloved mate. It filled him with a great peace.
But he still had questions. "Communion?" What did she mean? The twilight was fading quickly. "Arwen, what is this 'Communion'?"
As she faded from his awareness, her voice reached out to him. "Ask Legolas. He will tell you."
And then she was gone, though her heartbeat remained. The darkness continued to descend, and soon he surrendered to it, and slept.
The heartbeat continued . . .
~*~*~*~
Chapter 9
Aragorn awoke to sunlight filtering through the branches at specifically the right angle necessary to blind him as he opened his eyes. Squeezing them shut again, the ranger turned over, pulling the blanket over his head.
It was no use. He was awake. He lowered the blanket to face the day.
He was in a small clearing with a golden pool. Very peaceful. His bed consisted of white blankets spread on the soft green grass. He wore a white tunic and leggings. With the abundance of bright fabric, it was a wonder that he slept as late as he did. He sat up and scratched his beard. It was then that he saw his bandaged hand. He struggled to remember how he had been injured. Looking around the clearing, he saw his clothes, washed and drying on the rocks by the pool. None of this was familiar. On another day, this would be cause for concern. But not today. He threw the blanket aside and rose to his feet. He stretched his arms wide, yawning loudly enough to startle nearby birds into flight. He felt great! The injuries suffered on the road from Rivendell had vanished. But he remembered no healer.
Shaking his head to wipe the final tendrils of slumber from his mind, he walked to the edge of the pool to splash cool water on his face. What did happen last night? He remembered the Fellowship talking about its audience with the Lady Galadriel. He had chastised Boromir for speaking ill of the Lady, and recommended everyone get some sleep. He had tried to sleep, but unsettling dreams drove him from his bed. He remembered feeling desolate and disheartened. He remembered coming upon a clearing. With a silver pool.
He stood up and looked around in sudden recognition. The silver pool, now golden with the sunlight, lay before his feet. So he could at least place how he got here. But what happened in this clearing last night? His body appeared to be rejuvenated, with the glaring exception of his mysteriously bandaged hand. But his mind was filled with cobwebs.
His nose picked up the scent of cooking meat. By the gods, he was hungry. With a glance at his drying clothes, he set off to find the source of the delicious aroma causing his mouth to water and his stomach to rumble. The smell was incredible! He allowed his nose to lead him, instinct guiding him more than anything else. He was moving at such a speed that he stumbled into the Fellowship's pavilion before realizing it. Skidding to an immediate stop, he realized everyone was still asleep.
Well, almost everyone. Legolas sat at a table, eating from the plate before him. The elf glanced up at his entrance and smiled.
"Good morning, Aragorn," he heralded loudly, his green eyes twinkling with mischief.
A whispered memory echoed through his mind. "Do you trust me still?"
And then the remaining memories of the previous night's encounter exploded like a flash of lightning. The pain. The pleasure. Legolas. The healing Light. Arwen. The fading Twilight. The reassuring heartbeat.
His head was spinning, and his knees started to buckle. He staggered to the nearest bench to sit before he fell. "Breakfast is prepared," offered the elf. His dark eyebrows were arched in feigned innocence, but his impish grin betrayed his true intent. "Are you hungry?" he asked with just a hint of lechery, and then winked at the ranger.
"Did I hear breakfast?" Pippin was awake.
"I smell breakfast," chirped Merry.
"Is that rabbit I smell? Wake up, Master Frodo."
Breakfast. And Aragorn's head hurt already.
~*~*~*~
Chapter 10
Legolas collapsed trembling onto Aragorn's back, burying his face in the man's hair. The ranger appeared to have fallen into a deep sleep. He drank in the warmth of Aragorn's body, lying with his arms outstretched over his companion's like a shadow. He remained like this while his heartbeat and breathing returned to normal. The man's scent was intoxicating. But he forced himself up onto his elbows and knees, then rolled off onto his back.
And was swept away in a sea of light. The stars seemed closer somehow. Brighter. The cool breeze rustling the trees had become a strong wind, having increased to a low roar. Legolas sat up and looked around. The leaves on the trees were barely moving. He jumped at the sound of a large stone being tossed into the silver pool. But the surface showed only the slightest of ripples.
What was it about the touch of this man that sent his body into such chaos?
Turning his head to look at Aragorn, he was struck anew with the raw sensuality of the muscled physique, the sinewy back glistening with oil and sweat. He reached over and gently shook the man's shoulder. "Aragorn." Nothing. He tried again. "Aragorn?" Again nothing. He wondered if he should be concerned that the man was not waking. But instinct told him all was well.
He wiped his hand across his torso, only to discover his own body covered with Aragorn's sweat. The musky scent filled his awareness, evoking memories of the man groaning beneath him, pushing back to meet his thrusts. This time Legolas was not surprised at his arousal. And his lack of surprise was surprising in and of itself.
Legolas was not inexperienced in the ways of love and its pleasures. But he was hardly an expert either. When he was younger, he had explored the joys of the flesh with the enthusiasm of any young elf. Some encounters were among the most exciting of his life. Others were much easier to forget. By the time he had reached the age of adulthood, he had grown weary of those who wished merely to share his bed. He became the chaste Golden Prince of Mirkwood, forsaking the body's desire to bind with another. His passion he channeled into his bow, and word of his skill spread throughout Númenor. Legolas, the Chaste had become Legolas, the Warrior. For centuries, he had remained celibate.
Until tonight.
The reality of what had happened was beginning to work its way into his consciousness.
He had made love.
To a human.
To Aragorn, heir of Isildur, betrothed to the Lady Arwen.
He had never intended for it to happen. He was only trying to help a friend in need. He had never seen Aragorn in the light of passion.
The vision of Aragorn's rough hand gently stroking the shards of Narsil flashed across his mind.
Did that explain his odd reaction to their meeting in the Hall of Elendil? Had he been attracted to him from the moment they met? He decided to bathe again to remove the man's scent, as it was far too distracting. He rose and made a shallow dive into the pool. He was pleased to feel the cool water having the desired effect on his erection.
He rinsed himself of sweat and oil, and pondered his connection to the future king of Man. He remained in the water, completely submerged to his neck, the cool water soothing his overheated nerves.
No, he decided, it had not been a mere physical attraction to the ranger. Something else was at work here. The Lady Arwen had spoken of their intertwined destinies. He had always felt a healthy sense of importance as a prince of Mirkwood, though never approaching arrogance. It was a responsibility that he accepted with pride.
But this was different. If the signs were to be believed, the time of his people was ending, and the time of Aragorn's people beginning. If this transition was inevitable and ordained by the gods, and if the Lady Arwen's vision was accurate, then Legolas had an important role to play in the coming months.
She had asked him to help Aragorn. He was beginning to understand what she had meant. But he had so many questions. What should his role be? How was he supposed to help the future king? And what had happened during his orgasm with Aragorn? It was unlike any orgasm he had known in his youth. And though he felt exhilarated, he also had a sense of expectancy. As if events had yet to play themselves out.
He realized that Aragorn would need a bath as much as he had. So he walked out of the pool and went to the sleeping ranger. He gently rolled the man over, and then lifted him in his arms and carried him to the pool. The scent once again was overpowering. It was a struggle to remain focused on his chosen task. He sat down in the shallow end of the pool with Aragorn's back to his chest and proceeded to bathe the sleeping man. He was beginning to enjoy the process, his hands caressing Aragorn's chest and abdomen, washing away the man's emission. He was about to explore lower yet when he sensed someone approaching. He wrapped his arms around Aragorn's chest protectively. He did not actually think any harm would befall them, but felt protective nonetheless.
"What a lovely image." Haldir had entered the clearing with a bundle under his arm. Legolas remained silent as the other elf approached the edge of the pool. "Good evening, Legolas. Good evening, Estel."
"He sleeps." Legolas was shocked at his own discourtesy.
"'Tis a deep sleep indeed that does not flee from cold water." Haldir's expression was not one of concern, but rather amusement. Legolas wondered at what Haldir knew that was so humorous. "But 'tis well. Rest was needed. Do you need assistance?"
"Nay, thank you." Legolas was surprised to find he resented Haldir's intrusion. Only slightly, but enough to confuse him even further.
"Are you certain? He appears to be injured." Following Haldir's eyes to Aragorn's hand, Legolas was dismayed to find that, in his own reverie, he had not seen the blood from a wound at the base of the man's thumb.
"It appears to be a bite wound," Legolas observed, "of his own making." Why would Aragorn bite his own hand? The answer came to him, and he smiled. Apparently, the extraordinary orgasm was not experienced by the elf alone.
If Haldir had noticed the smile, he chose not to acknowledge it. "Allow me to assist you, Legolas." Haldir did not wait for an answer. Legolas watched as he moved to a nearby mallorn and opened his bundle, withdrawing a white blanket which he spread on the soft grass skirting the tree's trunk. He then withdrew two sets of clothing and laid them on the blanket. After withdrawing another blanket, he returned to the pool.
"Are you going to watch me or finish his bath?" Haldir stood by silently as Legolas completed his task, taking great care with Aragorn's injured hand. "Now deliver him to me and finish your own." All resentment banished by his concern for the man, Legolas stood up, pulling Aragorn's slumbering form with him. He walked out of the pool and passed his friend into Haldir's blanket-covered arms. Haldir wrapped the blanket around the human and carried him to the mallorn, where he lowered him to the blanket on the ground. Legolas finished rinsing himself off while he watched Haldir dry the man's body. When finished, he joined the two on the blanket.
"Are these for me?" he asked, examining the white garments Haldir had brought.
"And for him." Haldir replied, placing the damp blanket aside. Legolas took it and dried his own body, watching as Haldir drew a brush through Aragorn's hair, the man's head cradled in the elf's crossed legs. When he finished drying, he draped the blanket over a branch to dry, and then donned the garment provided by Haldir. The fabric was light as feathers on his skin, and his nerves were singing at its touch.
He picked up the leggings provided for Aragorn, and knelt at the man's feet. As he slipped the leggings over one foot, and then the other, he was struck by an overwhelming desire to lower his mouth and suck on the man's toe. He forced himself to focus.
By the time he had finished fastening the leggings, Haldir had finished with Aragorn's hair. "You sit there," Haldir instructed, pointing at the trunk of the tree. If anyone had spoken to him this way in Mirkwood, Legolas would have taken offense. He was a prince, after all. But he appreciated Haldir's hospitality, and complied as Haldir lifted Aragorn and followed him to the tree. Haldir knelt and gently laid the man at Legolas' left side. Legolas wrapped his arm around Aragorn's shoulders, pulling the man to him. They sat there, Aragorn cradled against his side, while Haldir tended to the ranger's injured hand.
"The wound is not deep." He reached into his tunic and retrieved a blue vial, which he opened and poured onto the wound. He quickly returned the vial, and wiped the excess from Aragorn's hand. "That should prevent infection."
Legolas was paying little heed to Haldir's ministrations. The scent of freshly washed hair was distracting him. He leaned his head forward and kissed the top of Aragorn's head, inhaling deeply. He then laid his own head back against the mighty mallorn, closed his eyes, and allowed Haldir's soft song of healing to soothe him into a reverie.
~*~*~*~
He stood on the shore of a vast ocean. The wind blew his hair away from his face as he gazed to the setting sun on the horizon. Twilight was falling. He felt a presence beside him. He turned to find the Lady Galadriel gazing into the twilight with a wistful smile gracing her face. Her beauty was astonishing.
She closed her eyes and her voice spoke to him in his mind. "Your spirit senses forces set in motion."
He answered her in kind, "Aye, my Lady. And I feel responsible."
"You are responsible. But not without need. When tribulation heralds the passing of ages, hearts of valor and compassion will step forward to assume their roles in history."
She opened her eyes, and turned to face him. She spoke aloud to him then.
"The step you took leaving Imladris was but an infant's compared to the step you have just taken with Aragorn."
"But I don't understand what has happened. The experience was unlike anything I've known. And now I am bewitched by this man. My eyes are unable to release him. My hands reach to him unbidden. I fear I am becoming lost in this human."
"Surrendering your love to a human is a dangerous gift, Legolas. And one which should be considered in earnest. Yet I see in your eyes that the time of consideration is past. You have already surrendered yourself to fate."
"The Lady Arwen spoke of destiny and the Lady Galadriel speaks of fate. Have I no choice in this?"
"There is always choice for the present and future, but the past is a choice already made. One cannot return to repeal a regretted decision. It was your choice to commune with the Dúnadan, and his choice to submit. He has entrusted to you his body and soul. These decisions carry great import."
"Is his mysterious slumber a cause for concern, my Lady?"
She smiled ever so slightly. "Nay, good prince. It is merely his body's means of accepting your gift of Communion." Her smile increased with his confusion. "Just as your communion with the forest rejuvenated your spirit, so has Aragorn's communion restored his. However, the human form is not strong enough to recover immediately, but must rest for many hours. There is nothing to fear. He sleeps in profound peace."
"How should I proceed, my Lady?"
"With great care, Prince Legolas. Your choices now affect us all." Her amused smile had vanished. She returned her eyes to the sea. The sun had all but vanished from the horizon. The light was fading quickly. He heard her again in his mind.
"You must not offer yourself to him. You must persuade him to claim you."
And then the light was gone.
~*~*~*~
"Your assistance, good Prince?"
Legolas' head snapped up. Haldir had finished bandaging Aragorn's hand and was holding the other white tunic in his hands. Legolas grasped both of the man's arms and held them forward for Haldir to slide the tunic down Aragorn's arms and over his head. Haldir held the man's forearms while Legolas finished pulling the tunic down over Aragorn's torso, then slowly lowered him back to Legolas' side.
For the first time since their lovemaking, Aragorn stirred, and turned onto his side, laying his head upon Legolas' chest. The bandaged hand rested upon his stomach, rising and falling with the elf's breathing. The human slept still. Tears welled in Legolas' eyes as he gazed upon his new love, trickling down his cheek and falling into the man's auburn mane.
"Estel is clearly in good hands. But how do you fare, good Prince? Will you say what has happened here tonight?"
Legolas looked up at their benefactor, and smiled. "I will not, for mystery surrounds this night, and I comprehend too little. But I thank you, Haldir for your aid."
Haldir rose to his feet. "We are honored to host Mirkwood's Prince."
"Your hospitality knows no equal. But how were you made aware that we were in need?"
Haldir hesitated a moment, and then asked, "Should a similar Fellowship enter Mirkwood's borders, pursued by foul creatures, how closely would your people observe your guests?"
One avoided question for another. "Fair enough, good Haldir. I extend my gratitude once more. Your kindness honors the House of Thranduil."
Haldir placed his hand on his heart and bowed his head in deference to the prince, then quickly vanished into the trees. Legolas gazed down at the sleeping man. He could feel Aragorn's beard through the thin fabric, scratching against his chest. His elven heart was beating strong and steady, and he wondered if Aragorn could hear it in his slumber.
He spent the rest of the night with the future King of Man asleep in his arms. For hours he pondered the words of the Lady Galadriel, until the rising sun began to paint the sky pink. It was one of the most peaceful nights of his long life.
Finally, he could sit still no longer. He carefully extracted himself from Aragorn's sleeping embrace and walked to the edge of the pool for a drink. The rising sun was changing the color of the pool from a shimmering silver to a glimmering gold. He noticed their discarded clothes at the side of the pool, and took a few moments to wash them, and lay them out on the rocks to dry.
He returned to the sleeping Dúnadan and pulled the extra blanket from the branch. Although now dry, it still held the scent of the freshly bathed man. He draped it over the ranger, and then knelt at the man's side.
"Sweet dreams, my king," he whispered, stroking Aragorn's hair. "Let us see what Fate holds in store for us. For my part, I shall never forget this night." He leaned over and kissed the sleeping man's cheek. The soft beard tickled his lips. He longed to know the sensation of Aragorn's lips on his own.
He quickly stood up, knowing that should he continue where he was, he would not be able to refrain from offering himself to the Dúnadan when he awoke from his slumber. After one last look at the sleeping man's handsome face, Legolas turned and left the clearing.
He ran. The energy that had been building the entire time Aragorn was asleep in his arms was finally finding its release. He ran like the wind, his feet barely touching the ground as he dashed through the forest toward the rising sun. The joy in his spirit could not be contained, and he began to laugh as he ran. The woodland creatures foraging in the early morning dew looked up at his passing, but were not alarmed. The music of his laughter was embraced by the song of the forest, the leaves dancing as he raced by them.
At last, he came to the banks of the Anduin, where he stopped to take a drink of water and to catch his breath. He climbed to the top of a large rock jutting out into the river, where he sat with his legs hanging over the edge. He lifted his face to the morning sun and closed his eyes, remembering the feel of the human's beard on his lips. The smell of the ranger's freshly washed hair. The salty taste of his sweaty shoulders. The groans of passion rumbling in the man's chest. The plea in the Dúnadan's grey eyes. Aragorn was the most intoxicating creature he had ever known. He strove to understand his connection to the human.
He pondered the Lady Galadriel's use of the word 'communion'. He had thought the experience with Aragorn to be unique, but she had implied he had experienced this 'communion' before.
And then, as if someone had lifted the fog in his mind, he saw the connection. He was stunned by the implication, and then broke out laughing.
This was going to be fun.
He still needed some answers, and would seek out Haldir as soon as possible. But for the moment, he wanted to return to the Fellowship's pavilion before Aragorn did.
He leapt from the rock to the bank, and broke into an easy run, retracing his steps back to Caras Galadhon. The clearing where he and Aragorn had spent the night was due east of the city. He arrived to find the ranger still asleep, apparently not having moved since Legolas kissed his bearded cheek. He arrested the impulse to go to the sleeping man, and instead moved to the rock where his clothes lay. The elven fabric had dried already and he quickly changed into his normal garb.
He moved to exit the clearing, but paused at the last moment. Turning for one last look, he saw the ranger turn over and pull the blanket up over his head. Stifling a whimper of delight, he quietly left the clearing.
He continued west until he crossed the stream which ran south from the city's wall. He crossed the white bridge and proceeded through the city's gates, nodding in greeting to the sentries. He asked them where he might find Haldir, and learned that his guide and benefactor would be leaving for Cerin Amroth later that morning to organize the heightened security of Lothlórien's borders. He thanked them and followed the path winding through the city until he reached the Fellowship's pavilion at the foot of Celeborn's chamber.
He was pleased to see that everyone was still asleep. A sumptuous feast of a breakfast was spread on a large table in the center of the pavilion. The hospitality of the Galadhrim continued to astonish him. He chose a wide variety of delicacies, for his appetite was raging this morning. His plate was filled to overflowing as he sat down to enjoy his meal.
The air was filled with song, a soft morning prayer, sung by voices extraordinarily blessed by the Valar. Whereas the previous night's song was one of grief and remembrance, this morning's music was of hope and new beginnings. Legolas felt his spirit soar in response to their words of comfort and inspiration.
The food was absolutely incredible. He could not remember eating a more delicious meal. He had started on his second plateful when Aragorn came bursting onto the pavilion.
The ranger appeared startled as he skidded to a stop. Legolas couldn't help but smile at the man's stunned expression. He had to share this with the rest of the Fellowship.
"Good morning, Aragorn!" he announced, much louder than necessary.
Aragorn looked at him in bewilderment. Then a look of shock overtook his face. The man stumbled, and sank onto a nearby bench.
Legolas was going to enjoy this.
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