Title & Chapter Number: Ohtarnil: A Warrior-Love 7/9
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 certain original characters who belong to this author. No money made, no harm intended. The work is the intellectual property of the author. First posted: November, 2002
Warnings: For you slash purists, there is some het fic. Just keep reading.
Betas: Caz
Cast: Legolas/Aragorn, Legolas/OCs, Haldir, Rumil. Other members of the Fellowship
Timeline: Third Age, Fellowship of the Ring.
Spoilers: None
Summary: In the woods of Lothlórien, Aragorn and Legolas become attracted to one another. But Aragorn cannot betray Arwen and Legolas still mourns the loss of a previous lover. A trip to the wood's borders to hunt orcs and a magical encounter with a stag changes their relationship.
Notes: This is part of a story arc that includes Dragon Fever. Although this one was written first, they can be read in any order. This story occurs after the events at Esgaroth in Dragon Fever, but before the first and last chapter involving Legolas and Aragorn. Feedback appreciated.
Chapter 7 - Vilyamar
Aragorn blinked. The light was failing as the sun rapidly slid toward the horizon. He staggered to the bank to collect his clothes and equipment. Stuffing his clothes in the pack roll, the ranger tied his sword, bow, and quiver to it, and balanced it all on his head. Then he followed the elf, angling through the gap in the waterfall.
At first it was dark. Aragorn could hear the boom and roar of the falls and realized he was in a cavern. He could see some light to his right. He waded out of the water and felt the rocky floor with his bare feet. The light grew and he could see that he was in a narrow crevasse carved by the stream during some past flood. He climbed over fallen boulders until he reached the top where the sky once more opened up above him.
Aragorn reached the top of the falls. Standing next to the rushing water was a huge and ancient mallorn, a veteran from ages long gone. He walked around the immense bole of the tree and saw a thin rope ladder swaying lightly against the trunk.
Yes, Legolas had gone that way, he was certain. He paused, pulled his leggings over wet skin, and began to climb the shaky stairway. He climbed quite high, through many dense branches, until his hands and feet began to hurt from the rope. The wide platform of a talan appeared overhead. He climbed up through an open trapdoor and emerged into a dwelling.
The room was filled with the rich, golden light of sunset that poured in through a wide window in the western wall. The view over the waterfall and the golden forest roof was breathtaking. Brilliant orange and red clouds billowed in the sky. The sound of the falls could be heard as a distant roar.
Under the window was a wide sleeping platform covered in black furs. In the opposite corner was a marble basin with a spigot and a pipe that went up to the arched wooden ceiling. Aragorn presumed there was a tank for rainwater on the roof. In the center of the room, surrounded by richly woven rugs and pillows, sat a large brass brazier fashioned to look like a dragon: on one side, a snarling dragon head looked over its back, its legs ending in clawed feet. A small metal pot sat on the dragon's head. Legolas was bent over the brazier, blowing on some logs that burst into flame. He was wearing his leggings again, but nothing else. His damp, blonde hair clung to his back.
The elf looked up and grinned at the awestruck expression on Aragorn's face. "Welcome to Vilyamar,* Sky House," he said. He came over, took Aragorn's pack off his back, and set it against a wall.
Aragorn looked around. "I lived in Lothlórien for a year and never even heard of this place."
"I came here once, long ago," said Legolas. "I'm glad I found it again. It is a place for the Galadhrim to rest while on patrol." He tossed Aragorn a towel. "Here, dry off."
Aragorn toweled himself off and sat down next to the bright fire. Legolas fished the skin flask out of his pack, took a long swig, and passed it to Aragorn, who also drank. The liquor tasted like brandy with an almond flavor. A pleasant glow crept down his throat into his belly, soothing him. He drank some more.
Are you hungry?" asked Legolas.
Aragorn hadn't thought of it before, but he was ravenous.
"Yes," he said.
The ranger pulled a package of deer meat out of his pack, unwrapped it, and tossed some of it on a grill over the brazier. Soon there was a fine cooking smell. Aragorn sat by the fire tending the meat with a fork. Legolas handed him some dried fruit and lembas from his pack.
"Legolas, what did you do back there with the stag?" Aragorn asked suddenly.
"Ah yes, that." The elf popped a piece of dried apple into his mouth. "Something I learned from our healer in Mirkwood. When I quite young, I went on a hunt with my older brother. He wounded a hart that we tracked for miles. When we finally found him, the animal was in severe pain. A pain I could sense. My brother dispatched him quickly, but I became very upset, and wouldn't hunt anymore. So, my father's healer, Gelion, taught me an ancient technique to ease an animal's death. You have to be careful how you use it, though, as it has some interesting side-effects." The elf flashed his beautiful, dimpled smile.
"Interesting is not the word, I'd choose," Aragorn said. He picked the meat off the grill, folded a piece of lembas around it and handed it to the elf.
Legolas realized that he was deeply content. His mind was still, even as his body ached for the touch of the man. As Legolas ate, he listened to the falls, the almost-heard voice of the ancient mallorn singing; smelled the wood smoke and the cooking meat, the faded chlorophyll of the mallorn leaves. He could feel the glow of the liquor, the tantalizing presence of the ranger.
The elf enjoyed watching Aragorn, his muscular body made strong by sword-play, his broad chest covered with fine brown hair. Even though careworn, his weather-beaten face was handsome, hazel eyes framed by long black lashes, a cleft chin covered by a sparse beard. Legolas didn't like the beard. But that could perhaps be amended. At times, the ranger's face held a shy, vulnerable expression that Legolas found endearing. And there was the bulge at his crotch that Legolas longed to reach over and stroke to hardness. The elf began humming, very softly.
Aragorn became aware of the humming. It tickled his thighs, inflamed his passion. The pale yellow liquor flowed warm in his veins. Legolas's skin took on a soft, golden glow as the last rays of the sun touched him through the open window. The room beat with his pulse. He smelled like sandalwood.
Legolas slowly and sensuously licked grease off his fingers. The stag arose again from Aragorn's belly and unfurled itself in his loins. He reached over and caught Legolas's hand and pulled it to his mouth, sucking gently on the elf's fingers.
So, is it time for dessert, already?" Legolas asked, smiling up at Aragorn seductively.
"Yes, it's time, in fact, overdue." Aragorn pulled the elf to him and kissed him. Soon they were kissing frantically, deeply.
"At last," Aragorn gasped. "I've wanted you for so long now. I can't stop myself." He kissed the elf's face, reveling in the stimulating touch of his bare chest.
"May all your desire be fulfilled tonight," Legolas moaned. "You may have me in any manner you wish."
Aragorn kissed down the elf's neck and over his smooth chest. The ranger's lips enveloped one nipple and sucked on it for a bit; then he moved to the other one. Legolas gasped and attempted to pull away. Aragorn kept going, across the rippling muscles of his abdomen, following a thin, downy hairline that disappeared into his green leggings. He cupped one hand on the bulge that had developed in the elf's pants, then leaned down to mouth the elf through the material.
"I think I'll have elf-sauce for dessert," the ranger said. Legolas laughed.
With both hands, Aragorn slid the leggings off Legolas's hips, allowing the elf's member to spring forth. Legolas sought to touch him.
"No, lie back, lirimaer.* It's your turn," said Aragorn.
Slowly the ranger slid his mouth down over the hot flesh, moving up and down. Legolas lay back, closing his eyes, and moaning softly. Aragorn kissed along the elf's inner thighs and then moved back to the long hard shaft. He gently bit up and down its length. Legolas cried out. Clear liquid welled up from the slit on the end. Then the ranger shielded his teeth with his lips and moved more and more rapidly. The elf's member filled his mouth, rubbing the back of his throat. So hot, smooth, hard.
"Ah, yes, Estel. Like that," moaned the elf, bucking his hips in pleasure. "No, don't stop. Ahhhh!" His cry echoed through the room as he came hard into Aragorn's mouth; a series of shuddering eruptions. Aragorn licked his lips. Legolas did indeed taste like a sweet, creamy dessert, with just a hint of a smokier spice.
Aragorn moved up to lie next to the elf. He trailed his fingertips over Legolas's luscious, white skin, drifting over the gold band on his upper arm, drew them up over the plateau of his strong pectoral muscles, circled around his hardened nipples. Legolas shivered.
"Delicious," the elf murmured.
They lay still for a while. Then Aragorn drank some more of the cordial. It now tasted like peaches. It was affecting him strangely. Colors were brighter, smells more intense. His skin was alive to the touch.
Legolas tingled all over. But he longed for a more intimate embrace. He rolled over and pulled Aragorn under him. He began kissing his mouth again, softly, then harder. Their tongues met, rolled about each other, licked along teeth. Legolas could feel himself lengthening again. He hadn't felt such bliss since, well, since his passionate nights with Elwen in Imladris. He remembered meeting Aragorn then, such a lovely boy, so naive. He remembered something else. An encounter with Elwen in the woods, similar to the one he'd just experienced. And he remembered sensing a presence nearby, watching.
He looked in Aragorn's hazel eyes and drew a finger across the cleft in his chin, over the short, shaggy beard, through the tangled shoulder-length hair.
"It was you, wasn't it?" the elf said.
"What was?" Aragorn breathed rapidly. His pupils were dilated in passion.
"You were in the bushes in the practice field, watching Elwen and me, at Imladris."
Aragorn actually colored, an alluring blush. "Yes," he said. "I didn't mean to. It was, um, fascinating."
"Have you ever had a male lover before, Estel?" asked Legolas.
"No, no, I haven't," Aragorn admitted. "I hadn't even thought of it before I saw you and your dark-haired friend. But, I confess, I've thought of it often since that day. And you," he traced the sharp line of the elf's chin, "were always the object of my thoughts."
"For so long you've had this secret passion? And you never acted on it until now? You must have a will of iron. Although I confess to you, that I was attracted to you from the moment I first saw you. But you were a mere boy at the time and I was in love with another." Legolas looked out the window just as the sun disappeared behind the horizon.
"Melethron-nîn,* if only you knew how I burn for you," sighed Aragorn. "But I am unsure how to proceed."
The blond prince kissed him quickly and grinned. "You're in luck, you have an experienced guide tonight."
Legolas stood up. He opened a flap of his pack and brought out a little silver flask. "Come, let's find a softer place to lie," he said.
The elf took a flaming twig and kindled a little lamp, which he carried over to the sleeping platform, and set it in an alcove. Then he lay down on the skins.
Outside the sky was darkening and stars pricked through the blue mantle. A cool breeze moved the rolled up screen over the window.
Aragorn brought the cordial with him and took another draught as he lay down next to the elf. The ranger had shed his pants. His erection grazed against Legolas's leg. Legolas rolled over on top of him and bit the ranger's neck softly, then hard enough to leave marks. At the same time, he ground his erection against Aragorn's.
Aragorn groaned. He reached up and grabbed Legolas behind the neck, twining his fingers in his long, silky hair.
"Turn over, Estel," Legolas murmured.
The ranger rolled onto his side, facing away from the elf. Legolas poured some of the oil onto his fingers. Then he ran his hands over Aragorn's round buttocks, following the indentation of his hip. He sought his tight opening, gently stroked a finger over it, then slowly pushed inside. Aragorn gasped.
"Easy, relax," said Legolas. "I shall show you how this is done." He probed gently before adding another finger. Then he slid down and took Aragorn into his mouth. He waited until the ranger was fully distracted, then added a third finger.
"That is not comfortable," Aragorn said through clenched teeth.
"You will enjoy it, I promise," the elf said. He changed the angle of his fingers and probed further. Suddenly Aragorn lifted his hips off the furs.
"Valar, what are you doing?" he groaned. "*That* feels good."
Legolas laughed. "You like it now. I guarantee you'll like it more later." He withdrew his fingers. "Now, turn over on your stomach and sit up a bit."
Aragorn did so, and Legolas spooned close behind him. He took his member, stroked oil over it, and placed it at Aragorn's opening. He pushed gently but steadily, suddenly breeching the muscular ring to sheath himself within the ranger.
Aragorn inhaled sharply. "That hurts!"
Legolas reached around and stroked Aragorn's member. At the same time, he began singing a soft song in Elvish, the same one, he'd sung to the stag. Legolas felt the man gradually relax. Aragorn was so hot and tight; it was all the elf could do to take this slowly, when he wanted to move hard and fast. He pushed in the last inch and felt his belly contact Aragorn's lower back.
"You have all of me now, my love," whispered Legolas. "Are you comfortable?"
Aragorn nodded and took a deep breath. The elf withdrew slightly and then pushed back in, his movement slow, then he began moving faster, harder. He shifted down a bit and angled upwards. Aragorn caught his breath, the pleasure intense.
Legolas grasped Aragorn's member with one hand and held him around the chest with the other. Soon, he was plunging into the man, feeling his body heat and the tight opening gripping his organ. The elf's head reeled as colored lights sprang out of the night. He was enveloped in Aragorn's musky scent. The ranger was moaning and gasping, covered in sweat.
Legolas felt Aragorn's member contract as the ranger gave a great cry. Hot liquid spattered on the elf's hand and up against the ranger's belly. The sound of Aragorn's cry brought Legolas to culmination as well, and he came so forcefully, and with such pleasure, that his head swam. He collapsed onto the ranger's back before rolling away to lie shaking in orgasmic aftershocks.
"Ah, Estel," he said. "That dessert was worth waiting for."
Aragorn lay panting. "I'm not sure I'll be able to walk for a while," he said, then smiled. "But I do not care."
He turned and nuzzled Legolas's neck as he stroked his hand down the elf's arm touching the gold band. Curious, the ranger sat up to examine it more closely. It was etched with a complicated knot motif and flexible, so that it moved with the muscles of Legolas's arm.
"Where did you get this?" he asked the elf.
Legolas sat up and touched the band lightly. He twisted it off, leaving an indentation in the skin. "Gift from an old friend, Elwen, that dark-haired elf who you saw with me on the archery field." He handed the band to Aragorn, who looked at it closely and then returned it.
"Good workmanship," Aragorn said.
"Yes." Legolas sighed, slipping the band back on his arm.
Then the elf slid off the bed and went to the brazier. He wrapped a cloth around the handle of a small pot of water sitting on the dragon's flat head, lifted it to the basin in the corner, and poured the water in. He turned on the spigot and filled the basin; then got a cloth, soaked it, and washed himself off. Legolas filled up the pot again, brought it over to Aragorn, and gently washed him.
At first the cloth was warm and soothing. Then Aragorn felt chilled. Legolas threw him his cloak. Then, the elf went to his pack, took out his knife, and a small stone. He sat on the floor and began whetting the knife, drawing it slowly across the stone with a whispery, scraping sound
What are you doing?" asked Aragorn, sitting up with the cloak wrapped around him.
Legolas didn't answer at first. Instead he picked up a leather strap and sliced off a small sliver as neatly as slicing soft butter. He found a ceramic vial in his pack, and brought it, the knife, and the pot of water over to the platform.
"I'd like to give you a shave," he said grinning.
Aragorn stroked his chin. "Is it that bad?"
"Men's beards have a certain exotic charm, but I prefer a smooth face," said Legolas. "If you'll allow me."
"If you wish it."
Legolas propped himself up against the platform and drew the man's head up against his chest. He dipped the cloth in the hot water and wrapped it around Aragorn's face. Then he poured some of the liquid into his hands, made a lather, and smeared it around the ranger's jaw. He began scraping his knife against Aragorn's cheek in short strokes, occasionally rinsing it in the water.
"I guess this means I really trust you," Aragorn said, as Legolas drew the knife up along his throat.
"No, allowing me to enter your backside means you really trust me," said the elf. He worked in silence for a bit.
"Legolas, tell me about Elwen," Aragorn said. "Ow!" The elf had nicked him slightly, near the ear. Legolas wet his finger and rubbed it over the spot where the blood had welled.
"Forgive me," Legolas sighed. "You *would* bring up Elwen. That is a tale of great sorrow."
~*~*~*~
*Vilyamar - Sky House in Quenya
*lirimaer - lovely one
*melethron-nîn - my lover~*~*~*~
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