Part 2
It had been a good dinner. Aragorn picked up his table napkin and hid a most unkingly belch behind it. He did not like this mile-long table for family meals - never had - but at least Arwen never insisted on her rightful place at the far end of it except on ceremonial occasions. She sat at his right hand as always. Directly across from her, Eldarion, his son and heir, was finishing up as fast as he could. He had developed a teenage passion for the great leatherbound books in the library. Aragorn wondered if he had discovered those fascinating medical books behind the fourth pillar. Probably, though it would be nice if he were reading about the exploits of his family in the Great Wars instead. Eldarion shoved his last potato whole into his mouth. No, definitely the medical books. Aragorn caught Arwen's eye and winked, and she winked back, understanding.
"May I be excused, father?" asked Eldarion, still chewing.
"Off you go, son. Don't stay up all night."
Eldarion nodded to his mother as he left, but paid no attention to Legolas or to his youngest sister, Gwyn, who were deep in conversation over the table. Gwyn had brought her beloved Uncle L a sketch of a deer she had made at school (while she was supposed to be doing arithmetic) and was showing it off with shy 12-year-old pride. Legolas privately thought it was quite good, difficulties with perspective and proportion notwithstanding, and resolved to encourage her. "Would you like to come to the stables with me tomorrow, so we can draw some horses together, Gwyn?" he asked.
"Can I, mama? Oh, can I?"
"All right, after your lessons are finished, Gwyneth. You'll try not to let her get too dirty, won't you, 'Lasse?" Gwyn and Legolas shared a mischievous glance, and Arwen resigned herself to a mud-covered daughter. Legolas would be his usual pristine self, of course.
"Where did you say Avora is this evening?" Legolas asked Arwen. Avora was the middle child, an outspoken, athletic young woman with her mother's dreamy eyes and long dark hair. It was a combination that would drive young men wild within a very few years, Legolas was sure.
"Harp lessons, isn't it?" replied Arwen. "No, that was yesterday. Riding lessons tonight. Honestly, we're lucky to see her at evening meal three times in a week."
"She's dropped a few clanging hints that she'd like to join the boys in my beginners' archery class."
Arwen consulted Aragorn with a look. "Why not?" he said. "She couldn't learn from a better teacher."
Gwyn's lady's-maid (they didn't call her "nurse" any more, in concession to Gwyn's dignity) arrived to take her off for the evening, and at Aragorn's beckoning, Legolas moved up the table to sit beside him. As the servants cleared the dishes, Aragorn opened a bottle of wine and set out three glasses.
"Three whole weeks you've been living in our madhouse, 'Lasse," he said, smiling, as he poured out the wine. "How do you like it so far?"
"It keeps me busy, I'll grant you that!" said Legolas.
"You're being a great help; the children adore you," said Arwen.
"Eldarion might not agree with that, my lady."
"He'll come around," said Aragorn. "He's just suspicious of anything new that changes his routine."
"Perhaps," responded Legolas, noncommittally.
"Anyway, to family life!" They drank. Aragorn added, "and that reminds, me, 'Lasse - we really need to get you better quarters than that silly little guest suite off in the tower."
"Oh, it's quite all right, really. I like it there."
"But it's so far away from us. There's plenty of space in the Royal Quarters."
Arwen watched this tussle of wills with interest and amusement, and held her peace.
"Honestly, Estel - I'm quite happy where I am."
Aragorn opened his mouth, but whether to concede or to lay down the law will never be known, for Avora chose that moment to burst in, in full riding regalia, travelling at top speed as usual. She greeted each of her parents with a quick kiss, then turned to Legolas. "Did you ask them, Uncle L?"
Legolas smiled. "Yes… and yes."
"Thank you, thank you!" she crowed and flung her arms around him, very nearly upsetting the wine he still held. Then she was off again: "I'll eat with the servants - saves bother for everybody!" And she ran towards the kitchen door, shooting imaginary arrows as she went.
"Was that my daughter, or just a small whirlwind?" asked Aragorn humorously of no-one in particular. He turned his attention back to Legolas and said, still in good humour, "All right, Prince Legolas. Stay in your ivory tower for now, if you must. Nothing could change how I feel tonight." He gathered up Arwen's hand in one of his own, and Legolas' in the other. "I think I must be the happiest man in Middle Earth."
Legolas tilted his head and looked at Arwen, then held out his free hand. Accepting the challenge, she gave him hers. And Aragorn, watching them, was seized first with an overwhelming wave of jealousy, and then with the self-mocking realization of how ridiculous he was being. Kissing the two hands he was holding, he released them and joked, "I'll just find you two a room, shall I?"
Arwen punched him in the arm, and she had a good punch for an elf.
"Ouch!" he cried. "Legolas, defend me!"
"Sorry, my lord," Legolas responded gravely. "The odds are too overwhelming. I'd rather fight Helm's Deep all over again." He rose to his feet and came over between them. "Good night, Arwen," he said and kissed her briefly on the lips. "Good night, Estel." The second kiss was a little less brief. "I'll see you in the morning."
The maidservant in the kitchen doorway, waiting to clear up the wine, watched with interest.
"Shall we stay up for a little while, Estel?" asked Arwen. She turned to see her husband holding a hand to his stomach, a slight grimace on his face. "Is something wrong, sweetheart?"
"Naught but a little stomach-ache, sweet. Perhaps I ate overmuch pheasant tonight. It will pass."
"Let's get you to bed then. Perchance we can find a way to distract you from the stomach-ache."
He smiled and straightened. "I feel better already."
-/-/-
Legolas stood at the window of his tower suite, fretting as he watched the lights go out in the rest of the castle. Overwhelming odds, indeed. How had he allowed himself to be maneuvered into this position? It was torture - sweet torture, but torture nonetheless - to spend so many hours of his day in Aragorn's company, seeing him, casually touching him, and what was worse, knowing Aragorn would be willing if Legolas but said the word. And Legolas could not, simply could not. His pride would not allow it. He could not abide the notion of being an instrument in the Lady Arwen's hands, even to give Aragorn pleasure. The thought of the intimate details of his and Aragorn's love being murmured to Arwen in the marriage bed made him shake with anger and shame. And the woman had made no secret that she wanted Legolas as well…
Truly, she was a monster!
There was a knock at the door. Legolas answered it, and there stood the monster in a very fetching deep blue night-dress. "May I come in, 'Lasse?" she asked.
He felt trapped. "I am not come here to seduce you," she added wryly, and he emerged shamefaced from the corner into which he had instinctively retreated. The door swung shut behind her.
"Does Aragorn know you are here?"
"He is sound asleep," she said. "He is often exhausted these days. It worries me."
It worried Legolas too; he had seen the bags under Aragorn's eyes. But his first priority was to get rid of Arwen. "The servants…" he started.
"The servants are already gossiping," she told him. "I am reliably informed that Aragorn was seen last week with his two ruttish elves doing appalling things under the waterfall."
Legolas groaned.
"We are strangers in a strange land, Legolas, even after so many years," she said sadly as she sat down. "They are not great in number, the bigots, but they do most certainly exist."
Legolas nodded. Leading a less sheltered life than she did, he was all too familiar with the sight of human spittle landing at his feet - or worse. He knew there were those to whom simply being an elf was a despicable sin.
"How fares it with you, Legolas? Truly?"
Truly? Well, she had asked. "I grow very frustrated."
She glanced up appreciatively at his candour, and matched it. "So does he."
"Is that why you are here, Arwen? To push me into his arms?" His impatience was barely concealed. "Tell me, do you actually wish that? Does it give you some unspeakable thrill?"
"It tears me to pieces," she answered honestly. "To give all that I have to him … and to know that it is not enough… It is very humbling, 'Lasse." There were tears standing in her eyes, but she controlled them. "There have been times," she confessed quietly, "when I have been so angry with you that I have wanted to rend you limb from limb with my bare hands." She looked very small and vulnerable. Legolas reached out and patted her shoulder awkwardly.
"Would you like me to find some plausible excuse to end this?" he asked gently. "Go back to the way things were before?"
She shook her head, lips pressed tightly together. "I need your help," she said. "Something is very wrong with him. I do not know if it is of the body or the spirit, but something is wrong."
Legolas nodded slowly.
"I have had healers to visit, elven and human," Arwen went on. "He would not be examined, saying there was naught amiss, but they watched him anyway. They tell me he is merely getting older, and overtired from the cares of his realm, but I do not believe them. He is pining for you, but - forgive me, Legolas - I do not think you are either the whole problem or the whole solution. Perhaps, though, he will tell you something he cannot tell me; show you something I cannot see."
"Lady, I dearly wish to serve him, but … "
"I understand. Here, it is all mine - the house, the family, the very coverlet on your bed." She drew a breath. "Take him away to where he is yours, Legolas. Take him to your green-leaf domain, where you both have memories of rougher, chancier days when more was risked and more was permitted. I do not care what you do… I do not need to know. I only ask," and the treacherous tears spilled over at last, "that you do not take him too far away from me. And that you bring him home safe."
Legolas looked at her with grave concern. "I thought you no longer cared for him so much," he admitted. "When he told me you were ready to leave him…"
She smiled through the tears. "No, Legolas. I never meant to leave. I knew he would not let me go." Seeing the pain on his face, she found it within herself to add, "And now he will not let you go either. We are both in thrall to him."
"Then we must both do our best for him," he agreed softly. "If you are sure, my lady?" She nodded. "I will ask him to go hunting tomorrow," he resolved.
-/-/-
"Hurry up, Your Majesty!" teased Legolas gleefully over his shoulder. "When did you become so fat and lazy?" It was a slander, and they both knew it. Aragorn was as lean as he had ever been. But there was no doubt he was having more trouble keeping up with his elfin friend than he used to have.
Aragorn gritted his teeth, increased his pace, and saved the breath he might once have used in a retort. As he scrambled to follow over yet another rocky outcropping, he wondered, not for the first time that day, whether Legolas was testing him in some way. For the life of him, though, he could not imagine why 'Lasse would do such a thing. It had never been the elf's habit to indulge in unseemly gloating over his own longevity and physical superiority.
Eventually, it was Legolas who cried halt. Aragorn was stubborn as ever, he realized, and would not stop until he lay unconscious in the dirt. Legolas had no intention of wearing him out that much.
He scooped some water into his palms from the little stream nearby, then turned to where Aragorn sat, recovering his breath, against a tree. "Here," said Legolas, and splashed the water over his friend's head and face. "Better?"
"Much," responded Aragorn. Now if only the tingling in his hands and feet would subside a little, and he had a few minutes to rest, he would start to feel quite human again, and could address himself to the true reason they were here in the woods together. He had been startled when Legolas suggested this trip, but had no notion of questioning his good fortune. It had been entirely too long. He reached out a hand to the elf, and asked, "Are we really here, meleth-nin, or am I only dreaming again?"
Legolas crouched down to face him and tenderly brushed a few droplets of water from the still-grimy cheeks. "It is real, beloved."
Aragorn made to draw him close, but Legolas merely smiled enigmatically and pulled away, asking, "Do you think you could go just a little further? I found a place a couple of years ago that I'd like to show you."
"Legolas Green-tease," grumbled Aragorn. And at the old, silly joke that had helped them through so many difficult days, Legolas gave his first broad grin of the day, and pulled Aragorn to his feet.
"Not much longer now, love," he said, and they set off shoulder to shoulder.
-/-/-
Arwen had not watched them leave that morning, choosing instead to keep herself busy with other tasks. Below, in the shadow of the palace gates, however, two sets of eyes had watched with great interest as the hunters set out together, racing, laughing, bumping and jostling each other in their high spirits.
"Look at that," said one voice, in disgust.
"Sickening," agreed the other. "Bad enough we have to bow and scrape to My Lady Whore upstairs. Now we have His Royal Highness Prince Catamite to boot. Arrogant bastard took a riding-crop to me the other day, because I didn't see to his precious horse fast enough to please him."
"Never mind," replied the first. "The elvish muck'll all clear out fast enough once the false king is gone - corrupt, rotten swine that he is! And then we'll get ourselves a real man back in charge."
"Is it working, d'you think?"
"Oh yes, it's working. He's trying to hide it, but it's crawling into his bones and guts, just like I told you. Not much longer now."
-/-/-
It didn't look terribly impressive after all the work of getting there, thought Aragorn. Just a flat space half-way up a rather exposed hill. There was enough space for a fire: something 'Lasse was building now, actually, with an armload of wood he'd carted all the way up the steep incline. There was a nice view of the westering sun, Aragorn supposed, but it really wasn't that spectacular. And he should check that almost-hidden cave mouth over there.
Legolas looked up sharply. "'Tis all right, Estel, I checked it already," he assured him.
Aragorn lazily watched Legolas cook the brace of hares they had bagged earlier. Really, he thought, he should make some move to help, but 'Lasse seemed quite content to take charge. Aragorn spread out his cloak beside the fire, lay back, and luxuriated in the rare sensation of being responsible for nothing at all. He was watching the stars emerge from the twilight, when something warm, greasy and delicious-smelling appeared from nowhere and brushed his lips. Legolas popped the choice morsel into Aragorn's surprised mouth, then laughed delightedly as Aragorn tried to capture his fingers as well.
"Eat, you ridiculous mortal," he said. "We need to keep your strength up." Grinning broadly, Aragorn rolled onto his elbows and tucked in with a vengeance.
"I need something to drink," said Aragorn at last. "There's a flagon of ale in my pack, I think." Legolas reached over and found the flagon, unstoppered it, and took a lengthy swig for himself before passing it to Aragorn.
"Mm, much better!" Aragorn smacked his lips and dashed a stray drop from his beard with the back of his hand. But then, as Legolas watched, Aragorn went suddenly pale and jumped to his feet. Retching miserably, he fled into the darkness. Following behind, Legolas was there to catch him when he stumbled to his knees and violently ejected the contents of his stomach. Legolas held his head and crooned elvish endearments until he was sure the worst was over; at length the heaving stopped and Aragorn began muttering black curses in every language he knew.
"I'll get you some water." Legolas was back within a minute with his flask. Aragorn drank gratefully. "Does this happen often, then?" The question was quiet in the darkness.
"Only in the last few weeks," confessed Aragorn.
"Was it the ale, do you think?"
"You drank it too."
Legolas shrugged. "That doesn't mean anything."
"It can happen with anything I eat or drink," Aragorn said grimly. Legolas put a hand on his shoulder. The man was thrumming under his hand like an over-taut bowstring. Legolas decided to let the subject drop for now.
"Remember I said I had something to show you?"
Aragorn nodded, wondering.
Legolas led him back to the fire. "Will you take the packs & cloaks?" Aragorn gathered them up as Legolas set about extinguishing the fire. Just before it went out, he gathered a healthy bundle of twigs, and, binding them deftly, turned them into a brand, lit from the last of the flames. Legolas picked up the abandoned flask, started to pour out the contents, then changed his mind and brought it with him.
Pulling aside the greenery to reveal a much larger cave-mouth than Aragorn had guessed, Legolas led the way in, pausing after a minute or so to wedge the brand into a shoulder-high crevice in the rock wall. The smoke wove upwards and found its way out through a star-filled crack high above their heads.
Eyes adjusting to the dimness, Aragorn made out a spacious cave, not enormous, but certainly large enough to serve as their bedchamber that night. If the gurgling sound was any indication, it had its own source of water, too. There was an odd odour, not foul but slightly metallic. "Over there," said Legolas, gesturing.
Not just a spring, but a pool as well, clear to the bottom even by torchlight. Yet a mist arose from the surface. Delighted, Aragorn exclaimed, "A hot spring!"
Legolas drew closer. "I think perchance your forebears knew of this place." And it was true: upon closer inspection the natural-looking pool showed signs of man's shaping hand. There were ledges beneath the surface, and even an embrasure with a rusty chain which must once have held a dish or jug with which to pour the steaming water.
Aragorn wasted no time. He was sick of feeling so filthy. Peeling off his boots, and scattering his clothing hither and yon, he plunged into the pool and immersed himself completely, never minding that he managed to get a mouthful of warm sulfuric-tasting water for his pains. Surfacing, he flipped himself on his back, found one of the ledges, rested his dripping head on the edge of the pool, and gave a groan of loud contentment as the heat began to insinuate itself into his weary muscles.
Legolas took his time, despite the effect a naked, wet and groaning Aragorn was having upon him. He laid out the cloaks and packs for their makeshift bed near the pool, then went back to the mouth of the cave to ensure the natural cover was back in place.
Aragorn watched entranced as Legolas reappeared in the flicker of the torchlight and smoothly removed his clothing. "Look at you," he breathed. Nothing had changed. The elf still had a soul-stealing beauty, a ravishing combination of unearthly perfection and tempting fleshliness, a body that was made to be adored and devoured in the same moment. Even more breathtaking than that, however, was the dark light that flickered in Legolas' eyes, promising to adore and devour in return.
Legolas strode into the water, and the waves passing over Aragorn were a sweet precursor to the warm weight of his lover's body. Legolas laid himself carefully over Aragorn's supine form, forearms on either side of the dark head, and kissed him, deep and hot and long. Indulging in the inevitable battle of tongues, Aragorn felt his bodily weariness giving place to rising passion, and wrapped himself around Legolas, grinding him closer. Legolas drew away a mere inch. "Easy, my love. We have time," he whispered.
Time. It was the one luxury they had never had, till now. For the past twenty years, it had only been the time to say no. Before that, it had only been moments of desperation, taking what could be had. Never had they had time simply to ask, "What would you like?"
Aragorn brought his wet hand up to Legolas' face. "What would you like?" he asked.
Legolas looked down at him, a smile playing over his features as he considered his options. "I want to take care of you tonight," he said finally. "I want to apologize for being a Green-tease. And I want you to lie still and be as quiet as you can while I do it."
Had he not been a King, Aragorn might have been accused of pouting at that moment.
"For now," added Legolas, the promise of more in his twinkling eyes.
Once again, but more strongly, Aragorn was suffused with that marvellous sensation of being burdenless, of being the irresponsible one. He relaxed in surrender. "Where do you want me?"
"Here is fine for the moment." Legolas started to kiss and lick down from Aragorn's neck, seemingly undisturbed when he had to dip under the water to reach and nibble upon a nipple. Squirming just a bit, Aragorn watched the long blond locks float on the surface of the water in front of him. When Legolas came up for air, he said, in mock concern, "Your hair's getting all wet."
With a mutter that sounded remarkably like, "Bugger my hair!" (but surely it was not), Legolas dived lower and for a long, glorious minute, he claimed and tormented his prize, Aragorn holding tight to the sides of the pool.
When Legolas rose to the surface again, flushed with triumph, they laughed together, and Aragorn pulled himself out to sit on the edge. Then the loving began in earnest, Legolas' eager hands and mouth leaving no inch of skin uncaressed, glorying in the soft, soaked hair on Aragorn's chest, belly and thighs, as Aragorn disobeyed his orders and ran his hands possessively across the smooth pale shoulders and back. Pushing gently, Legolas arranged his lover face down on one of the cloaks and teased and gentled his way the whole length of the rangy body.
Only once did they speak again.
"You sure you want to lick there?"
"Prissy human."
A long humming sigh. "Filthy elf."
Aragorn was pushed over again, and with gentle skill and seemingly endless patience, Legolas worked on bringing forth gasps and sighs and murmurs for what seemed to the half-delirious human like days. At length, sensing that Aragorn had reached the point of no return, Legolas seized upon the weeping cock and swallowed it with sweet, unbearable pressure. A great deep groan arose from Aragorn's chest as he spasmed; Legolas rode him out till the last twitch.
Aragorn's hand reached out and tangled in Legolas' wet hair. "Come here," he whispered, and Legolas pushed himself up so they were side by side. Aragorn heaved himself up onto an elbow and turned to his lover. "I want to... I'm going to..." His head lapsed onto Legolas' shoulder, and Aragorn fell fast asleep.
There was nothing but tenderness and amusement in Legolas' gaze. He took half a minute to see to his own needs, then pulled the other cloak over them both and settled down to keep vigil over his King all through the night, memorizing his beloved features for the empty years ahead.
tbc
