A/N: This was a very, very quick little piece I wrote whilst musing over the delicious Legolas and the hunky Aragorn. I'm quite a fan of this pairing - and when I was re-watching the movies (for, like, the 93857389 time) I just looked out for any tiny, tiddly, LITTLE bit of slashiness that may appear between these two.
Lo and behold... you know I found some. ;) Enjoy! Don't forget to review pllleeeaasseee. It makes me feel better. (And Cixi, I know you will.)
P.S. This is my writing style so, again, sorry if it doesn't... make sense. I don't own LOTR - if I did, this would happen.
Legolas was Prince of Mirkwood.
He was King of Gondor.
It was uncertain as to when exactly the Two became One. The precise moment at which they reached for each other and sought company; intimacy. The feeling of closeness - and on occasion, danger.
The times when they lay together, huddled beneath blankets of melting cream, lost in skin and warmth, knowing that every second, every minute was counting down. Counting down until He had to go back to Her. Counting down the moments until One became Two.
It was in these moments that Legolas felt most alive. He could feel every square inch of his body; each part specifically attuned to the places that He touched, kissed, lay against. It was as if little veins of electricity replaced the heavy slough of blood, and he was merely an arrow, shooting through the air, from a bow strung too tight.
It was dangerous, they both knew. It made everything seem in focus. It felt that every time their gaze met, or when some jest delivered could mean anything, everything; there was a beat of wait.
Wait. What if they know?
And if they do?
Legolas almost wished it were so. Sometimes he wanted his words to be interpreted, dissected, analysed. He wanted people to realise. Legolas clutched these tendrils of Moments to his chest (ever secretive, He'd breathed, my Prince.)
But Legolas knew. He knew that He had A Duty. And it was His Duty to fuck the she-elf and produce offspring, so the world of men would forever be kept safe and sound.
It was almost like a Great Tale. A drunken story, to only be recounted when all participants were well and truly wine-sodden and the first ebbs of lust were tickling the edges. Let's hear the story about Aragorn, the King of Gondor, who liked to bed that little boy-elf. Let's hear about what they used to do.
Legolas was Prince of Mirkwood, and ruled nothing.
But He was King, and ruled the Prince's heart.