Title & Chapter Number: Dragon Fever 6/21
Author(s): - Author's Index
Fandom: LOTR
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: This is a work of fan fiction. The characters, settings, and languages used in this work are the property of the Tolkien Estate, Tolkien Enterprises, and possibly New Line Cinema, except for Elwen and other original characters who belong to this author. I make no money from this, more's the pity, considering the number of hours burning the midnight oil.
Warnings: Mild BDSM and non-consensual situations in a few chapters. Some het.
Betas: Many thanks to Caz and Dhvana for beta reading, and to friend Dhvana especially for advice, consultation, and moral support and to Dalogas for being my most thorough reviewer.
Cast: Legolas/Aragorn; Legolas/OCs; also Thranduil, Smaug, Gimli, Balin, and Gloin.
Timeline: In the Third Age of Middle Earth, shortly after The Hobbit.
Spoilers: None
Summary: Legolas tells Aragorn a story about a trip he once made to Esgaroth (Lake-town) with his lover, Elwen, a Rivendell elf. But something is rotten in Esgaroth and Legolas is forced to strike an unusual bargain. A mix of adventure, romance, humor, angst, and hot sex.
Notes: This is actually both a prequel and a sequel to "Ohtarnil: A Warrior Love." The first and last chapters (1 and 21) are sequels and take place shortly after the Fellowship leaves Lothlórien. However, most of the story takes place 73 years earlier when Legolas first becomes involved with my fictional character, Elwen. Feedback, as always, greatly appreciated.
Chapter 6 - In the Wine Cellar
Nissa and Meril began clearing the tables. The elves thanked their hosts and began filing out of the room. Thrin and Talagan headed upstairs.
"Would ya like to come down to the cellar and choose your bottle, Prince?" Goran said to Legolas.
"Fine," Legolas said. "I'll be right there. No hard feelings?"
"None at all," Goran said and held out his hand, which the prince took. Legolas and Elwen left the room. Goran chugged the last of the wine, and swayed slightly, wiping his mouth on his sleeve.
"Goran," Meril warned "Ya be careful what ya do, now."
"And what's tha supposed to imply, sis?" Goran said.
"Nothing," she came over and straightened Goran's collar. "It's just that I care about ya. Wouldn't want anything to happen."
"Ya don't know what a torture my life is, sometimes," Goran whispered to her. "I'll go get the prince his bottle. But he did cheat, ya know."
"Nay, he didn't," Meril said. "He just didn't let on how good he really was. I think he planned every throw." Goran took another swig of the wine, then walked out of the smoky room. He headed down the hall and paused, as he could see Legolas and Elwen at the foot of the stairs. They seemed to be standing unnaturally close. Legolas had his hand on the dark-haired elf's arm.
I wonder about this pretty boy companion of the prince's, Goran thought. What if he is more than just a friend?
"I'll see you in a few minutes," he heard Legolas say, then the prince turned and looked at Goran. The man walked toward him, clearing his throat.
"Come with me, Prince Legolas, and ya can pick out your own prize," Goran said.
Legolas followed him back through the kitchen and pantry to a door that led to a narrow stairwell. Goran took a lamp from the wall and held it before him as he went, somewhat unsteadily, down the stairs. Goran's and Legolas's shadows stretched and retracted, sliding along the roughly-hewn cellar walls. At the bottom of the stairs, the small floor space was crowded, from floor to ceiling, with wine racks in parallel rows. The racks were only partially filled.
"We don't have much of a selection yet," Goran said, running his finger along the labels. "Ya shoulda seen our cellar before the dragon! Wines from all over, some hundreds of years old." He looked up at Legolas. "That must seem but a small time to ya."
Legolas shook his head. "Time moves strangely for us. Sometimes swiftly, as the seasons seem to pass like the beating of a butterfly's wings; and sometimes as slowly as the trees age in the forest. For like the trees, we change little, and the world hastens around us, like the butterflies."
"I cannot judge as I've only been in the world twenty-five years," said Goran. "But I think sometimes it is like that for us men, too. Here, choose your poison, Prince."
Legolas bent over to examine a bottle. His tunic rode up, revealing the tops of his shapely thighs encased in the tight leggings. Goran looked his fill. He was slightly drunk, and had to restrain himself from reaching out and caressing Legolas's rear. Gods, he thought, this is too tempting. How can I keep him here?
"Let's try that one," Goran said. "I have some glasses and a corkscrew here." He went to a cabinet.
"I should be retiring to my room. I'm tired from my journey," Legolas said.
"I have heard the elves have iron constitutions and can march for days without rest," Goran said. "Is this not true of ya, Prince? Please indulge me in a drink, so I can show I bear ya no ill will for besting me in the game."
"All right," Legolas relented. Goran grinned and opened the bottle. It made a sharp, gurgling sound as he poured the wine into the glasses.
"To your health," said Goran raising his glass.
"To yours and your family's," said Legolas and put his lips to the glass. "Yes, this is better than what we had at dinner." He sat down on the stairs and Goran sank down next to him. The man noticed that the prince's cheeks were slightly flushed. He wondered if the wine was affecting him. If so, all the better, he thought.
"Aye, it's a potent wine," Goran said. "Do wood elves get drunk?"
"Gods, yes," Legolas, "I remember, when I was much younger, the dwarf king, Nain II came to visit with a delegation of dignitaries. My father drank about four bottles of this stuff, then he began bragging about my skill with a bow. He bet Nain that I could hit any object in the room. The dwarf foolishly agreed, and my father set an apple on Nain's head. You know, nothing improves your aim like knowing that, if you miss, you'll start a war."
"I assume you did not miss," said Goran. "Yer father sounds like mine. A tough taskmaster. Hard to live with."
"Ah, you've no idea," said Legolas, shaking his head.
"My father has been rather disappointed in me," Goran sighed, "ever since," he paused and looked back up the stairs, then lowered his voice to a whisper. "Since he discovered that, uh, I don't fancy women all that much. Tell me, prince, do ya find it the same with yourself?"
Legolas arched an eyebrow. "That is a somewhat delicate question to ask on short acquaintance," he said. "But I will say that I find myself drawn to beauty, of both body and soul intertwined, and care less about the particular housing that spirit takes."
"'Tis a shame men are not so," grunted Goran. "I live in fear what might happen if . . ."
"If what?" Legolas asked.
Goran looked at him sidelong. "D'ya know what the penalty is here for engaging in forbidden love?" Legolas shook his head.
"Death, by drowning."
"That seems excessively harsh for so small an offense," Legolas wondered.
Goran looked at the lithe form sprawled so near to him on the stairs, the delicate face shaped in harsh angles in the dancing lamp light. His groin began to burn. If only I could capture this lovely being, hold him slave to my desires, he thought. He practically admitted he would not be repulsed by such acts.
Legolas thought he heard a heavy sound in the wall, as of a large creature moving. He looked in that direction and could see the outline of a door in the wall behind one of the wine racks. Then, he felt a wave of sickness, just as he had felt that morning in the canoe floating over Smaug's bones. He shook his head to clear it. Maybe, he'd had too much of his father's wine.
"Did you hear that, Goran?" Legolas asked.
"Hear what?" Goran said.
"I guess not. Well, this has been an, an *enlightening* chat, Goran," Legolas said. "And I thank you for the wine." The prince set down his empty glass and started to get up.
It's now or never, Goran thought drunkenly, and he half stood up, then fell onto the prince, pinning him against the stairs. He pressed his lips hard against the elf's.
Immediately, Legolas jerked his face sideways, shrugged one shoulder hard outward, and then down, sliding out of the man's grasp.
"I would have ya, Prince," Goran snarled, trying to kiss the elf again.
"Do you seek death, then?" Legolas said menacingly, "if not at the hands of your own people, then at mine. I choose my own partners, Goran. Do not persist in this suit."
At that moment, Goran felt a sharp stick in his back. He arched away from it and cried out in pain as the point snicked through his tunic to the skin. He felt a trickle of hot fluid down his back.
"I'd advise you not to move," Legolas said. The elf raised his arm slightly, and out of the corner of his eye, Goran could see the cold glint of metal. "Now back away from me, slowly," Legolas commanded. Goran sat back on his haunches at the foot of the stairs. Legolas flipped the knife around in his hand and held it pointed toward Goran. The elf drew his legs up under him, crouched like a cat, ready to spring.
"Forgive me, Prince. It was an unworthy impulse, born of too much drink, nothing more," Goran murmured, his eyes lowered.
"Don't come near me again, or I might not be so merciful." Legolas stood up slowly, then came down one step, and bent to pick up the half-empty bottle. "And I believe, I won this," he said. He walked backward up several steps, the knife held ready in one hand, and the wine bottle in the other. Then, as Goran made no move, he turned and began to climb.
"Prince," called Goran. Legolas turned back to look at him, grimly. "Ya won't tell aught of this, will ya?" Goran said, sounding pitiful.
Legolas curled his lip. "You ask for mercy, then?" He looked at the human with glittering eyes. "I have no desire to see you put to death and no need to tell any of your people. Just stay away from me!" He sheathed his knife, then fled lightly up the stairs.
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