Title & Chapter Number: Anywhere On My Own 2/3
Author(s): - Author's Index
Website: Hith a Naur
Fandom: Tolkien
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: I do not own LotR or any characters, lands, or items from the Tolkien world. They belong to their respective copyright holders.
Warnings: None
Betas: Silvara & Menel, who kinda got sucked into the job since it was her gift.
Cast: Legolas/Aragorn
Timeline: TA LotR
Spoilers: None
Summary: Legolas must come to terms with the futility of his love for Aragorn and the future King must accept that the Elven-Prince cannot be his.
Notes: This is my Christmas gift to Menel, who has been a well of encouragement and inspiration. Her love of Legolas and Aragorn got me writing this piece and I hope it lives up to her expectations of my work. She is a great friend and marvelous author. ^^ This is dedicated to her.
II
He had been waiting for Aragorn, watching the sun slowly set and then the sky lighten again as dawn approached. They had survived the great battle on the Fields of the Pelennor, and Aragorn, along with the sons of Elrond, had been called to aid the sick and dying. Legolas had taken his leave of Gimli and had come to wait for his weary lover to return. He did not believe that they would have many stolen moments from now until they either died or defeated Sauron, and he wished one last moment with his beloved.
Although, there was more than his anticipated lack of private space for himself and Aragorn. It had to end. It was time to end the intimate aspect of their relationship and for Legolas to attempt to salvage what he could of their tattered friendship. He felt like a criminal, stealing all these seconds with his lover, whispering lies to him in the hopes of sparing the King's heart. It was over. Legolas knew it was over the moment he had told Aragorn he did not love him. The look on Aragorn's face had nearly broken his heart in two. He could not emotionally afford to carry this on until the inevitable conclusion, so he had chosen to end it much sooner than he had thought.
Legolas chuckled to himself. Than he had thought? He had not thought to continue to share his body with the Ranger beyond their first, awkward coupling outside the Lothlorien border. He had thought to take and offer comfort. Instead, he had gone to Aragorn, and allowed Aragorn to come to him, over and over. There was no turning back now. This would be the last time he would lay with Aragorn as a lover. He knew he should confide this decision to Aragorn, allow him to burn this last time in his memory as Legolas would, but the Elf-Prince knew that the human would rally against the decision, that he would plead and look at him with those soulful eyes and Legolas would relent. He was weak, he was in love, and it could not continue.
It was in the pre-dawn light that Legolas first heard the heavy and fatigued footsteps approaching the tent. He lifted his head and suppressed a sharp gasp of surprise. Aragorn stood just inside the flap of the tent, his eyes vacant with exhaustion, and his shoulders slumped with what seemed like the weight of the world.
"Legolas?" he asked, his voice rough from speaking for hours to dozens of people.
"Aye, my Lord," Legolas answered, standing in one graceful, fluid movement. He crossed the small space swiftly and took Aragorn into his arms. The Man fell heavily against him and took in a deep breath, his senses flooding with the clean spring breeze that always followed the Elf.
Aragorn pulled back and Legolas smiled almost imperceptibly. His slender, pale hands moved to the front of Aragorn's dirty shirt and deft fingers untied the laces. He slipped the garment off his lover's shoulders, his hands gliding over the planes and curves of the Man's well-muscled chest. Legolas raised his eyes, smoky cobalt in the low light, and leaned his lips in to gently kiss the tired Man. He ran his cool hands down the soft surface of Aragorn's stomach and rested his hands on the waistband of his leggings.
Legolas watched Aragorn's eyes shift from tired dullness to swirling desire. "Do you want me?" whispered the Elf.
The dark-haired Man leaned in to capture the Elf's lips in a searing kiss, his tongue delving into the deep recesses of Legolas' mouth. Legolas groaned, tilting his head and pushed his own tongue into the Ranger's mouth, dueling for dominance. Aragorn gave in, allowing Legolas to control their kiss and was pushed gently, but firmly, back and around to the mound of furs they would sleep in that day. While then slowly made their way to the sleeping area, Legolas unlaced Aragorn's leggings and caressed the Man's flanks, his lips never leaving his lover's.
When Legolas had Aragorn spread out on the bedding, he broke the kiss and slithered down to remove the King's boots and then peeled off his leggings. Aragorn watched, enraptured, as Legolas divested himself of his clothing and then joined him on the soft furs. Legolas sat at Aragorn's feet, picking up one and pressing his fingers deeply into the arch. Aragorn groaned as the aching muscle was massaged, feeling his body begin to unfurl. Legolas lovingly stroked the tension from Aragorn's sore feet, then kissed each ankle, snaking his tongue out to lap at the tender skin and pulling another moan from the Man.
Legolas inched up between Aragorn's legs, stopping when he reached midway. He massaged the tight muscles of Aragorn's legs, his well-schooled hands easing all his aches quickly. He also noticed that Aragorn's arousal had not abated, and he smiled softly at the relaxed form that lay before him. It was when his hands skated up the now loose thighs that Aragorn's eyes slid open, hazy grey meeting smoldering blue. Legolas crawled up and gently pressed his length against Aragorn's, tasting the Man's mouth in a slow and leisurely kiss. If this was to be his last time with the one he loved, then he would take his time and memorize every nuance of the King.
Aragorn lay passive beneath him, allowing Legolas to do as he would. Legolas began to kiss his way down the Man's throat, gently nipping and tasting the warm flesh. He was careful not to mar the bronze skin; as much as he wanted to mark Aragorn as his, he could not. While Aragorn squirmed against him, Legolas drew his tongue over the sensitive skin covering the Ranger's collarbone. The Elf kept his hands busy by stroking up and down Aragorn's sides, feeling his own desire twitch and throb with each moan and whimper he evoked from the mass beneath him. Legolas' mind raced with conflicting need. He wanted never to let go, never to give up what he had found with this human. Aragorn's soul had been laid bare before the Sinda and he had loved the Man for all he was and would be. His heart ached with the knowledge that he would lose that, lose this.
He bit back bitter tears and focused his attention on the stiff peak of Aragorn's nipple. He laved the tender nub with his tongue, drawing it into his mouth and suckling steadily, using the fingers of one free hand to pinch and roll the other hard pebble. Aragorn bucked against him, pleas slipping from his mouth, slurring together in his desperate heat tempered with his bone-weary exhaustion. Legolas continued his erotic labors upon Aragorn's chest until he could simply blow upon the heated flesh and cause the Man to cry out with need. Legolas smirked and moved down the trembling body, inhaling and treasuring the musk of Aragorn. He nuzzled the coarse hair that grew about the base of Aragorn's arousal and planted his hands on the tense thighs. The Prince licked his lips and leaned down, moving his tongue over the fervent length of Aragorn's shaft. His eyes closed and a shiver passed through his body when Aragorn let out a keening cry, thrusting up against his mouth.
When he reached the dark head of Aragorn's cock, Legolas slid his tongue over the slit that held several drops of clear fluid. He savored the salty, slick taste and then engulfed the entire length of the Man in one, smooth motion. Aragorn arched up, his back leaving the furs, and he cried out at the sudden moist heat and the fierce suction. The Wood Elf did not spend much of his time on his oral pursuits but released the thick column of flesh after only a few strokes of his mouth. He continued his downward exploration and bathed Aragorn's tight sac, chuckling when Aragorn drew his knees up and back, exposing himself shamelessly to the Elf.
Legolas accepted the invitation and dropped lower, his tongue seeking and finding the tight opening and slicking it quickly. He drove his tongue forward, breaching the Man effortlessly, fighting another shudder when Aragorn pressed back against him, crying out with pleasure. Legolas sat up and scanned the tent, eyes fastening on the unstoppered bottle of oil near the tent flap. He stood and retrieved it, returning to his lover who quivered in his unfulfilled desire. He poured the viscous liquid over his fingers and, without pause, slid two inside Aragorn. Aragorn twisted under the Elf ministrations and pulled his legs further back. With untried patience, Legolas prepared the Man, twisting and scissoring within the tight channel. When the King was readily riding four of his fingers, Legolas removed his hand and added more of the oil, coating his heavy shaft.
The Prince kneeled before the King, replacing Aragorn's shaking hands with his forearms, bracing the Man's legs as he positioned the blunt head of his need against Aragorn. Legolas' eyes, now glistening with unshed tears, watched the Ranger's face as he filled Aragorn in one smooth thrust. Aragorn cried out with Legolas, both bodies trembling and wanting. Legolas held himself still, allowing Aragorn the time to adjust to his girth. The tight sheath was impossibly hot and it took all the restraint Legolas had leave in three thousand years not to take the Man roughly. When the muscles around his arousal relaxed and Aragorn's breathing had returned to the lustful, needy panting, Legolas began to thrust.
He set an unhurried pace, relishing the feel of Aragorn around him. The tears he had tried to fight began to fall, but he kept his eyes on his beloved's face. Aragorn had long ago closed his own eyes, concentrating all his senses on the feel of Legolas, and Legolas thanked the Valar that his lover would not see his anguish. He took Aragorn with his hand and began to stroke the hard flesh. He could feel the tensing of Aragorn's body and knew the King would find his release soon. Legolas continued his deep, long strokes right through Aragorn's orgasm. It was when those internal muscles clamped down on his oversensitive member, milking him with each spurt of fluid upon Aragorn's belly, that Legolas tumbled over the precipice and into ecstasy. He cried out his lover's name as he spilled his seed deep within the Man and his tears fell freely.
Aragorn's legs slipped from his grip and the King's strong arms came to wrap around his shaking shoulders.
"Legolas?" he asked, his voice thick with fatigue.
Legolas took a deep breath and pulled back, gently withdrawing his softening member from Aragorn's body. It was over. He would never feel that again, never witness the Man completely surrendered to him in passion. He wiped his face and offered a watery smile. "I am well, Aragorn. Just tired."
Aragorn nodded and held out his arms. Legolas used the corner of Aragorn's leggings to clean the King off and then snuggled into his embrace.
"We do not have long to rest, I am afraid, my Elf. But, what sleep we can steal from this time, we should."
Legolas nodded against Aragorn's chest, his heart still heavy. He could never share this satiated afterglow with Aragorn again. He would never feel his arms about him, never feel so safe and loved as he did within the circle of Aragorn's body.
A voice, deeply hidden but loud enough to catch his attention, called the Legolas' aching heart. Why couldn't he have what he wanted? Why could he not take instead of giving, for once? He had given and given: for his father, for Mirkwood, for Elrond, for Galadriel, for Middle-Earth... It was time he took something for himself. He would not let Aragorn go. The Man had handed him his heart, had showed him the darkest parts of his soul, and Legolas loved him for it. Let the rest of the world rally against them; let the Valar themselves appear and chastise them. He would never leave his beloved, no matter the consequences.
With a smile on his face and a lighter burden on his heart, Legolas snuggled into the furs about their bodies and fell swiftly into reverie.
~*~*~*~
Night had long fallen and Legolas found himself sitting on one of the many balconies that could be found along the citadel. The sky would become alight with colors as Mithrandir's fireworks heralded the union of King Elessar and Arwen Undomiel. He sighed. It had been a dream, one he had quickly cast aside once the warm glow of lovemaking had passed. When they had woken and prepared to march on Mordor, he had known that the time had indeed come. It would do neither of them any good to steal away with one another when their world needed their utmost concentration.
Aragorn had caught on quickly that their relationship had changed. He had only sought Legolas out once for answers, but the Elf had told him that he would give him those answers if they survived.
And they had survived.
Aragorn had come to Legolas looking for those very answers during their time in the White City, after their return from Mordor. With all the King's new burdens and stress, Legolas had been loath to discuss their relationship until a proper time. It seemed a proper time was never available for them. Aragorn was too tired, working late into the night, or cloistered away with Advisors. Legolas would ride off with Arod for hours or spend a day on the practice field with the King's men or the evening with Gimli. It was only when the runners came telling of Arwen's impending arrival that Legolas knew the time for answers had finally come.
Haldir had come with the Lothlorien party and had offered Legolas some kind words and looks that Legolas could not quite place. Arwen had embraced him, thanking him for keeping her Elessar safe, a knowing look passing between the two Elves. This unnerved Legolas, and he had watched her the entire night. Though she was not unkind or cruel, Legolas could not misinterpret her actions as she stood with Aragorn. He was hers and she was letting the whole of Arda -- letting the heart of one Elf in particular -- know that this was destined and nothing would change that.
Elladan and Elrohir had offered to keep him company after the ceremony, but Legolas had begged off, saying he simply needed time alone. Which he did. His warring emotions were new to him. He had spent centuries knowing who he was and what his purpose in Arda was. Then he had allowed the King of Men to kiss him and his entire existence had changed. He knew he had not been blind in this endeavor. He had known the consequences and had thrown caution to the wind.
He was simply reaping what he had sown.
The bitter fruit was his alone.
The Elven-Prince sipped his wine and watched the sky light up in crimson, one of Arwen's favored colors. His keen hearing picked up the light footsteps when they were well down the corridor, and he wondered who the twins had sent to cheer him up now. He stood, placing his goblet on the ledge of the balcony and leaned over, looking down at the assembled crowd.
"Legolas?"
He turned sharply at the voice, his eyes wide with fear. "Aragorn."
The King, still dressed in his wedding finery, approached the Prince and smiled, bringing his hand up to cup the icy cheek of the Elf. "Why do you look at me thus, meleth?"
Legolas pulled back from the caress and looked back out over the city. "Aragorn, you should not be here, you should be with your wife and family. Not with me."
"Legolas, you are family to me. I have known you my whole life..." the King trailed off, uncertainty coloring his tone.
"Aye, I suppose I am akin to family. More reason I should never have taken you to my bed, Aragorn." Legolas turned to face his love. "You should go back now."
Aragorn's eyes narrowed, the depths sparking with anger. "Why do you say this? Why do you push me away? I love you!"
"But, I have not loved you," he lied. "I have never spoken promises of forever or given you any reason to see beyond my offer of friendship and comfort."
"Friendship?! Sharing your body with me is *friendship*?" Aragorn looked at him incredulously. "What game have you been playing, Elf? Is my heart not pure enough for you?"
"Aragorn," he said, raising his hands to his temples, which had begun to pound. "You are Arwen's. You always have been. We both knew that; should Sauron and the Ring be destroyed, so would our stolen love."
"You speak of love! Why do you lie to me? Why do you lie to yourself?" Aragorn inched closer, taking the Prince's hands in his own and Legolas opened his mournful sky-blue eyes.
"You are not listening to me. Arwen has made her choice, and now I must make mine. You must let me go, Aragorn."
"No!" he cried, bringing his lips against his lover's.
Legolas let out an anguished yelp and wrapped his arms around Aragorn. He opened his mouth to accept the King's demanding tongue and lost himself in the scent and taste of his love. Suddenly, he pulled back, pushing Aragorn away from him. Panting, with unshed tears on his lashes, Legolas shook his head. "No, Aragorn. It cannot be. I know what it is you would ask of me. I know you would keep me here and love me while you love her. It is unfair to her, unfair to me, and unfair to yourself. I will not allow it."
"*You* will not allow it? What power gives you the right to make that decision for all of us? You know that I would give all of this up and return with you to your home, Legolas! Gondor has survived this long without a king; it does not need one now. Faramir will make an excellent Steward, and I can finally put an end to the Kings of Men." Aragorn's pleading tone caused a sharp stab of pain in Legolas' chest, and the Elf stifled another grief-stricken moan.
"I must take back my life, Aragorn. For so long, it has been everyone else's. It has been yours. I would rather be alone, melethen, than to see you give up all we have fought for. You are the King of Men. You are now the sworn husband of Arwen. And I have no place here."
Aragorn's eyes were alight with desperation. "Then I will make a place!"
"You cannot! This is not what I wanted to be, Aragorn. I did not want to be heartbroken on your wedding night. But, I can see it now. I can see that the worst of you comes from me." Legolas looked out over the crowd once more and closed his eyes, a single tear finding its way down his alabaster cheek. "This person you are, this one willing to hold me as well as his long love, is what *I* have done to you." He turned sharply to Aragorn, his eyes hard and dry. "And I cannot allow you to continue being such."
He fled past the King and into the night. Legolas did not know how long he ran, but he did not look back, for he feared Aragorn would be on his heels. He eventually came to the main stable where Arod was kept and he slipped in past the slumbering groom. The night had grown quiet and the sky dark, the celebration was over and, while his heart rebelled against his honor, Legolas knew Aragorn lay with Arwen at that moment.
Legolas brought Arod from his stall, foregoing the tack he usually used on the beast, and mounted in one graceful motion. "Revio, Arod, revio 'nin Anduin," he whispered near the horse's ears. The chestnut stallion took off to the east, covering the short distance to the shore of the great river in his swift gallop. When the Elf reached the bank, Arod's hoofs splashing heavily in the shallow waters, Legolas turned him to the south, crying out, "Hortho, Harad, hae o sí!"
Arod took off at a gentle lope, whinnying with his master's enthusiasm. Horse and rider rode at this pace for some time, stopping once to allow Arod time to rest, then taking off once more further South down the Anduin. When the sky began to lighten, Legolas murmured into Arod's ear, "Daro, mellonen, daro." Arod came to a slow halt, panting with the exertion of their ride. Legolas slid from his back, looking across the river at the terrain of Emyn Arnen. The land was barren around them and Legolas sat near the edge of the fast-flowing water. "Deritham sí suilo Anor," he said the horse, who snuffled at his ear. Legolas laughed, forgetting for a brief moment the pain in his chest as he stroked the muzzle of his companion and watched the glory of the sun rise.
Breathing deep, Legolas smiled and turned his face up to the warmth. The Sea-longing had woken in him and he thought about simply sailing on the next ship he could. But, he knew he wouldn't. He could not leave this land while Aragorn still lived. He would not return to Minas Tirith, though. He could not be so close and not touch, not hold the love he had momentarily held. In that moment, he made a decision. "Noram sír 'nin fili, Arod." Arod neighed and nodded his head, causing more laughter to bubble from the Elf. "Maer, nerim a ertham i Nogoth."
He remounted his steed and they rode at a more sedate pace, Legolas' body moving in complete harmony with Arod's. He let his mind wander as he looked about the land as they rode. So much had changed. In his long life he had seen his home erode, his father's heart darken, and tasted love. Now, it was time to revel in the smaller, more simple pleasures, such as his friendship with Gimli. His stout companion would ease the loneliness and offer him a distraction. As they came into the main city and made their way through the gates, Legolas resolved not to see Aragorn again until the time his love was ready to leave this world.
Then he would be free. Until then, he had the travels he and Gimli would go on and he still wanted to go home and see his father again. Perhaps even bring the Dwarf with him. He laughed to himself; his father would truly adore that.
~*~*~*~
He stood outside Gimli's room, as placid as a still lake, waiting for the Dwarf to open the door. When the still sleepy figure did appear, Legolas smiled brightly, his false pretense of cheer causing Gimli to cringe.
"Master Elf! To what do I owe this early visit?" Gimli looked the Elf up and down, taking note that he was wearing his traveling clothes and had his weapons strapped about him. "Are you going somewhere?"
"Aye, Gimli, I thought we could travel to the Glittering Caves this morn." Another dazzling smile that let the Dwarf know that there was something indeed wrong with his friend.
Gimli looked beyond Legolas and saw saddlebags packed and ready. "I take you'll be leaving with or without my company, then?" He raised his chin in that defiant way he had and Legolas allowed true mirth to dance in his eyes.
"You know me too well, mellonen."
"Have you informed the King that we will be leaving ahead of schedule?" Gimli backed into his chamber, motioning for Legolas to join him.
Legolas took in his surroundings, noticing that Gimli did not unpack his belongings into whatever room he was staying, just as Legolas did not. It brought a faint smile to his lips just how alike he and the Dwarf were. "I have left word with Faramir, Gimli."
Gimli looked up from his packs, an eyebrow raised. "That is unlike you, Legolas, to slip away in the early morning light. What has happened, my friend?"
A cold look crossed the fair Elf's features and his eyes became hooded. "All has come to pass as it should, Master Dwarf, and I am eager to leave this city of stone."
The Dwarf looked at him with intense scrutiny and then nodded solemnly. "Very well, Elf. Keep your secrets and your sorrows. I will still be around when you feel it time to unburden yourself."
The two companions left the city of Minas Tirith, its white walls becoming a glimmer behind them in the late morning sun. Legolas urged Arod on, wanting to put as many leagues as he could between himself and the King's city. In time, he may return, but his heart screamed at him that he should never return. He was leaving behind one of his closest companions and a She-Elf he had always considered a sister. Other than his father, Legolas had counted the close members of the House of Elrond as his family.
He felt he could do that no longer.
~ Next Chapter ~
~ Previous Chapter ~
~ Library Main ~
~ Author Index ~ Character Index ~ Title Index ~
~ Hall Of Fire ~ Gallery ~
~ Links ~ Shops ~ Map ~ News ~ Rules ~ Lists ~ ~
This page is in no way affiliated with New Line Cinema or Tolkien Enterprises, and no profit is being made.
The information contained herein is NOT to be used to spam or in any other way harrass its members. Be advised that abuse of this site will not be tolerated, and the appropriate legal action will be taken.
Hall-Of-Fire.Com v.4.0, Copyright © 2003, 2004, 2005, 2006, 2007, 2008, 2009 by Cristine Cook-Fireheart. All rights reserved. This web site may not be reproduced in any form, except as occurs in normal browser caching, without express written permission from the author.
Website by Infinite Connections Design.
