Author: Milady Hawke juliebgood001@hotmail.com
Feedback: Oh yes - I am a feedback whore. Writers need to know that somebody is reading their stuff, so tell me you love it, tell me you hate it, just tell me!
Disclaimer: Not mine, the immortal Tolkien's. No monetary gain, no sue.
Summary: Sweet yet intensely sexy little ficlet set in Lothlorien. The angsty Ranger finds solace and salvation in the arms (and legs) of our pretty elf. Typical slash fare - but the poetic style recommends the story.
Author's note: This little scenario is a tad played out, I know, but this was my first fanfic, let alone a slash one. That said, I did this as an introductory exercise, going for things like character, dialogue, writing style, and back story. Also, you can check out the NC-17 companion piece from Leggy's POV, "Into the Wood," at the Lirimaer archive. Also, also, the second to last line is the opening to Dante's Inferno, and the last line is a nod to the Divine Professor.
Out of the Wood
Legolas... the word falls lightly from my lips, like the patter of midsummer rain on the gold leaves of Lothlorien.
I cannot help but look up, to see if I have really let your name slip so carelessly. There is barely the curve of a smile on your lips, but your cheeks look faintly of the ruddy glow of the fire while your eyes catch the glint of the chill moon with... amusement. I have indeed forgotten myself.
"Umm," I say, "I was..." and each moment between each tortured word I fumble for seems like an eternity, "just, ah, wondering..."
Curse my stupidity. The elf could hear a leaf fall in the forest. In my absentmindedness I have let slip to the ground more than your name but also the sock I was mending. My boots have never looked so fascinating.
"Never mind. My brain is addled," I manage to spit out as I shove so quickly to my feet that my head reels. Embarrassment is my least favorite emotion. It brings out my touchy side like nothing else. The elf should know better than to snicker at me. Damn him.
Though I stand veiled in the shadows of the trees and my own testiness, I cannot help but turn my eyes to the way the half light of the moon and the stars this night softens the clearing to a silvery blue glow, reminiscent of the light that radiates from you - but I dare not bask in either another moment.
I seek escape deeper into the woods and away from the unmerciful fire that illuminates my predicament, but I should know, having offered so half-assed an explanation, that you will follow me. As you steal up softly behind me, the warmth and the gentle pressure of your hand on my shoulder, even over leather, is soothing. If I do not control myself better, I will surely lean backwards into the heat of your chest and the cascade of spun gold that I know smells of dewy grass and mountain streams. I wonder what I would smell like to you, if of earth and leather and spiced smoke, or simply of dusky sweat - although I am sure you have never stopped to consider such things.
But these are ridiculous thoughts for one betrothed, and to have of a comrade.
"It is indeed a lovely night, Aragorn, mellon-nin. Earendil shines blessings upon us," you say with the soft, lilting grace of your kind, and I do not know what to think as your hand glides down to mine, pulling us down to sitting side by side. Many is the time that we have slept huddled under one blanket, our backs pressed tightly together, two figures against the northern wind, but never did it produce in me the sensation that the casual touch of your shoulder to mine sends through my racked body.
"It is long since I have seen a moment's peace flit across your face. You carry too much of the weight of us all. And you add a personal grief to it, unless I am much mistaken." The last you add more softly still.
Your arm reaches across to catch my chin and turn my face towards you. I can feel my eyes close momentarily, against my will.
"I would have you face me, Estel." Your hand, my prince, has still not left my face. Most strange... and wonderful.
"Since you were a child you could never keep anything from me, nor do I think you ever really wished to. Why do you do so now? Have I lost your confidence?" The pain in your eyes undoes me. I know not whether to be annoyed with the question, with your lack of faith in our friendship, or to melt into soothing remonstrations.
"No, of course not," I protest vehemently. "I trust you with my life." Pausing, almost whispering, I add, "And with more than that. I always have." But how am I supposed to tell you plainly - you who have never given me so much as a suggestion of hope? Thus have I allowed myself to be betrothed to that sweet lady who is still, nevertheless, my sister.
Your hand tightens on my jaw, prince, and before I can think what to do you have pulled me to within inches of your face, the hot moisture of your breath setting fire to my skin. "Perhaps, then, you will trust me now with this," you murmur into my lips.
The silk of your hair falling against my cheek and your lips flitting against mine, no creature under the heavens could feel as soft as you do now. Elves. I think I forget to breathe until you bring both of your hands to my face and crush your lips to mine in earnest. To my horror, my breeches have grown most tight.
But I cannot will my lips to respond with like need. "Do not play with me, Legolas," I manage to choke out, pulling away from your grasp. "Why are you doing this?"
"Because I have long known that you desire me," you say, pulling me back to you tightly and brushing your lips to my collar bone. "Because I have too long been afraid of your mortality." Your tongue, now gliding paths through the hollow at the base of my throat, licking my torment to a fury. I could weep for the ache it leaves on my skin as you rise to look me full in the face, capturing it once more with your hands. "Because on this dangerous quest I have realized that I cannot conceive of losing you."
Wide-eyed, I hear the words spilling from me, "Because you love me too." A smile in your eyes, you nod "Aye," and I can feel the dam of joy burst in that one radiant word as I crush you to me at last.
You open your mouth for me to explore, and I think there is no spiced wine in Lothlorien so intoxicating. The feel of you around my furious tongue, soft and yet somehow hard and incredibly sweet, urging me to take more, my hands twined in your hair and clutching at your waist, it is maddening. With infinitely strong yet gentle arms, you lower me backwards to the forest floor and envelop me in the warmth of your body and breath, your eyes heavy-lidded with desire.
***
Midway along the journey of my life, I woke to find myself in a dark wood, for I had strayed far from the straight path. In your arms this morning and for the rest of my days, I know now that not all those who wander are lost.
Feedback: Oh yes - I am a feedback whore. Writers need to know that somebody is reading their stuff, so tell me you love it, tell me you hate it, just tell me!
Disclaimer: Not mine, the immortal Tolkien's. No monetary gain, no sue.
Summary: Sweet yet intensely sexy little ficlet set in Lothlorien. The angsty Ranger finds solace and salvation in the arms (and legs) of our pretty elf. Typical slash fare - but the poetic style recommends the story.
Author's note: This little scenario is a tad played out, I know, but this was my first fanfic, let alone a slash one. That said, I did this as an introductory exercise, going for things like character, dialogue, writing style, and back story. Also, you can check out the NC-17 companion piece from Leggy's POV, "Into the Wood," at the Lirimaer archive. Also, also, the second to last line is the opening to Dante's Inferno, and the last line is a nod to the Divine Professor.
Out of the Wood
Legolas... the word falls lightly from my lips, like the patter of midsummer rain on the gold leaves of Lothlorien.
I cannot help but look up, to see if I have really let your name slip so carelessly. There is barely the curve of a smile on your lips, but your cheeks look faintly of the ruddy glow of the fire while your eyes catch the glint of the chill moon with... amusement. I have indeed forgotten myself.
"Umm," I say, "I was..." and each moment between each tortured word I fumble for seems like an eternity, "just, ah, wondering..."
Curse my stupidity. The elf could hear a leaf fall in the forest. In my absentmindedness I have let slip to the ground more than your name but also the sock I was mending. My boots have never looked so fascinating.
"Never mind. My brain is addled," I manage to spit out as I shove so quickly to my feet that my head reels. Embarrassment is my least favorite emotion. It brings out my touchy side like nothing else. The elf should know better than to snicker at me. Damn him.
Though I stand veiled in the shadows of the trees and my own testiness, I cannot help but turn my eyes to the way the half light of the moon and the stars this night softens the clearing to a silvery blue glow, reminiscent of the light that radiates from you - but I dare not bask in either another moment.
I seek escape deeper into the woods and away from the unmerciful fire that illuminates my predicament, but I should know, having offered so half-assed an explanation, that you will follow me. As you steal up softly behind me, the warmth and the gentle pressure of your hand on my shoulder, even over leather, is soothing. If I do not control myself better, I will surely lean backwards into the heat of your chest and the cascade of spun gold that I know smells of dewy grass and mountain streams. I wonder what I would smell like to you, if of earth and leather and spiced smoke, or simply of dusky sweat - although I am sure you have never stopped to consider such things.
But these are ridiculous thoughts for one betrothed, and to have of a comrade.
"It is indeed a lovely night, Aragorn, mellon-nin. Earendil shines blessings upon us," you say with the soft, lilting grace of your kind, and I do not know what to think as your hand glides down to mine, pulling us down to sitting side by side. Many is the time that we have slept huddled under one blanket, our backs pressed tightly together, two figures against the northern wind, but never did it produce in me the sensation that the casual touch of your shoulder to mine sends through my racked body.
"It is long since I have seen a moment's peace flit across your face. You carry too much of the weight of us all. And you add a personal grief to it, unless I am much mistaken." The last you add more softly still.
Your arm reaches across to catch my chin and turn my face towards you. I can feel my eyes close momentarily, against my will.
"I would have you face me, Estel." Your hand, my prince, has still not left my face. Most strange... and wonderful.
"Since you were a child you could never keep anything from me, nor do I think you ever really wished to. Why do you do so now? Have I lost your confidence?" The pain in your eyes undoes me. I know not whether to be annoyed with the question, with your lack of faith in our friendship, or to melt into soothing remonstrations.
"No, of course not," I protest vehemently. "I trust you with my life." Pausing, almost whispering, I add, "And with more than that. I always have." But how am I supposed to tell you plainly - you who have never given me so much as a suggestion of hope? Thus have I allowed myself to be betrothed to that sweet lady who is still, nevertheless, my sister.
Your hand tightens on my jaw, prince, and before I can think what to do you have pulled me to within inches of your face, the hot moisture of your breath setting fire to my skin. "Perhaps, then, you will trust me now with this," you murmur into my lips.
The silk of your hair falling against my cheek and your lips flitting against mine, no creature under the heavens could feel as soft as you do now. Elves. I think I forget to breathe until you bring both of your hands to my face and crush your lips to mine in earnest. To my horror, my breeches have grown most tight.
But I cannot will my lips to respond with like need. "Do not play with me, Legolas," I manage to choke out, pulling away from your grasp. "Why are you doing this?"
"Because I have long known that you desire me," you say, pulling me back to you tightly and brushing your lips to my collar bone. "Because I have too long been afraid of your mortality." Your tongue, now gliding paths through the hollow at the base of my throat, licking my torment to a fury. I could weep for the ache it leaves on my skin as you rise to look me full in the face, capturing it once more with your hands. "Because on this dangerous quest I have realized that I cannot conceive of losing you."
Wide-eyed, I hear the words spilling from me, "Because you love me too." A smile in your eyes, you nod "Aye," and I can feel the dam of joy burst in that one radiant word as I crush you to me at last.
You open your mouth for me to explore, and I think there is no spiced wine in Lothlorien so intoxicating. The feel of you around my furious tongue, soft and yet somehow hard and incredibly sweet, urging me to take more, my hands twined in your hair and clutching at your waist, it is maddening. With infinitely strong yet gentle arms, you lower me backwards to the forest floor and envelop me in the warmth of your body and breath, your eyes heavy-lidded with desire.
***
Midway along the journey of my life, I woke to find myself in a dark wood, for I had strayed far from the straight path. In your arms this morning and for the rest of my days, I know now that not all those who wander are lost.