Author's notes: Due to Minka's dysfunctional brain and Yours Truly's current state of frozenness, we are quite incapable of writing decent author's notes! We are however capable of shamelessly begging for reviews! Now would you read this and review? Like right now? Yes' Then why are you reading this for! Read and Review already!

Minka: umm, I wrote this while mum was going through one of her 'I am upset as I just argued with the boyfriend that I do not even like' moods and she was playing Alice Coopers 'Poison' over and over and over and over and over (repetition is always bad). So I locked myself in my office and write slash! Yes, that means if you do not like it, do not blame Yours Truly! *points at mother* blame her!!!

Lol, anyway, this is what came out...

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Temptation Lurks

Chapter Four

Poison

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You're cruel, device

Your blood, like ice

One look, could kill

My pain, your thrill

I wanna love you but I better not touch - don't touch

I wanna hold you but my senses tell me to stop

I wanna kiss you but I want it too much - too much

I wanna taste you but your lips are venomous poison.

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"You need rest, Master Elf," Gimli said quietly and on the sly so Aragorn would not hear. They had been traveling for close to two days now, and throughout that time, Legolas had neither slept nor allowed his mind to wander in the Elven dream world that he normally would have. Gimli could tell that he was tense; nervous even, over Aragorn's strange behavior but, that aside, the Elf did need rest else he would soon collapse.

Legolas said nothing, just shook his head and cast another vexed glance in the direction of the man that was building a small fire for the night. After his small outburst and acknowledgment regarding Aragorn's lust for the Ring, Legolas had said not a word, either to the human or to the dwarf. He had simply shut himself off, closed himself to the world and all within it and only concentrated his mind upon the ground and possible signs of the passing of the Orcs with the Hobbits'.

"I will sit guard this night," Gimli offered his friend, wanting him to be able to at least get a small amount of rest. Elves may not tire as quickly as other races, but they still get weary, especially after such a large fight as the one that split the fellowship and then days of travel. "Nothing shall slip past me!" Gimli almost boasted to his preoccupied friend.

Looking down at his stout companion, Legolas felt his heart soften and his mind fully return for the first time in days. Offering the best smile that he could, Legolas nodded slightly and released the mental floodgate that he had been using to restrain his fatigue and conflicting emotions.

"Thank you," he said silently, placing his faith and trust in his ally. Doing his best to hide a yawn, he added, "I shall take you up on that offer, Gimli."

Neither noticed the sly smile that tugged at the corners of Aragorn's mouth and eyes as he slowly reached for his pack and the small leather bag contained within.

"Good! And fear not for I shall make sure all is well." Gimli once again exclaimed as the Elf made ready to bed down for the first night in a long while.

Lying flat on his back, his hands clasped upon his breast, Legolas looked up at the sky as he felt the rush of exhaustion sweep over him. Almost immediately he found himself helpless to fight the pull of sleep and rest as it nibbled forcefully at the edges of his mind and, even though his head was alive with thoughts, fears and wishes he soon found himself fully emerged in the world of the soporific.

*****

Aragorn and Gimli glared at each other, each not really knowing why but feeling inclined to and wanting to win. The match had been going on since Legolas first lay down, Gimli wanting to protect his friend and Aragorn wanting what he did not comprehend.

Eyes darting around the small camp, Gimli spied what he was looking for, and, once again establishing eye contact with the Ranger, rose to his feet and walked to the side of the fire near Aragorn. Retrieving his water bottle, he then casually walked back to his previous seat near the Elf and his discarded armor while unscrewing the lid. Moving the open neck to his mouth and tipping the bottle up, he never once broke the staring contest with the human even as he drank deeply of the refreshing water within.

Burping loudly from the sudden rush of liquid to meet the air in his throat, he noticed the human smiling brilliantly over at him, his eyes gleaming in the firelight as his face was almost completely transformed from the smile.

Eyeing the man strangely, Gimli wiped the drops of water from his beard while looking to his Elven friend to make sure he was safe. Legolas was altogether lost in his dreams, his eyes open but entirely glazed over to an almost deathly blue-white colour. Turning his head back to the human, Gimli felt a strange almost rushing feeling assail his mind and vision. It was as if he had fallen, or moved too fast after being restricted to a sick bed and, even as he held his head still, he could still feel the world revolve around him at a great speed.

Yawning, Gimli took another drink, trying to get the unnatural dizziness from his head, when he suddenly felt a strange, solid object slip into his mouth from the bottle. Almost throwing the waterskin away, he spat the hard object out of his mouth and into a gloved hand. Holding it up to the flickering flames of the campfire he was alarmed to find that his vision was blurry beyond recognition and as he yawned again, he fought desperately to focus his eyes in on the thing held between his thumb and finger. Finally seeing it as a shape and not a blur, the dwarf found it to be a root of some plant alien to him.

"Tired?" an almost chirpy voice came from the other side of the fire, and, mind working slower then it should, Gimli looked up to see Aragorn's smiling face and dancing eyes fixated on him.

Standing up, the ranger moved care freely around the fire, coming to a stop in front of Gimli and extended his open hand. Blinking a couple of times, Gimli was just able to make out what was within the tanned palm and, with horror he put two and two together.

"What is it?" he demanded as he stared at the root in the man's fist that was the same as what he found in his water.

"You feel it, do you not? Feel it taking over and winning?" Aragorn asked sugary as he watched the horror pass over Gimli's face as he yawned yet again. "It does wonders, you know," the man continued, almost talking to himself, "could knock an entire army out with just a little of this - how are you feeling?" he quickly asked as if he really cared when the dwarf started to sway in his seat, his eyes getting heaver and heaver.

Gulping against the bile that seemed to be rising up his throat, Gimli blinked rapidly yet again, trying to keep his eyes open and his mind focused. Drawing in a great breath, he turned slightly towards Legolas to try and rouse him from his slumber.

"Oh no you don't!" Aragorn said with another sadistic smile as the dwarf was about to yell for his friend. Quickly pulling out the small, curved dagger that he had been given in Lothlórien, he brought the hilt down on the side of Gimli's skull with all his might, stopping his call before it even passed over his lips. As the dwarf fell heavily to the ground, Aragorn just gave him an almost patronizing look. "Now why did you have to go and bring the Elf into it - we were having fun!" Giving the fallen dwarf a harsh kick in his unprotected side, Aragorn turned his eyes in the direction of the sleeping Elf, his storm-grey orbs reflecting his excitement and sense of danger.

Dropping the root to the ground, he moved over to the Elf's side and sat down cross-legged next to the fair being that seemed to occupy his thoughts entirely. Looking down on the slumbering Elf, Aragorn could not stop the suggestive leer that crossed his face as the new emotions stirred up within him again. Yet, somewhere deep within, he could hear a small voice, one long forgotten and extinguished, telling him to leave, to stop this foolishness before it got out of hand. As soon as that voice popped up, another seemed to awaken, informing him that it was all Legolas' fault, that the Elf had brought this and whatever else he would do to the being upon himself. Legolas was the evil one, not him. It was the Elf that played with him like a toy only to throw him away once he was bored. The Elf was the one that had started this, with his shy, innocent looks that he would cast in Aragorn's direction, with the small little smiles that would pass between only them and that only they would know what to make of them.

Although, never had he looked upon this Elf so, never looked upon him as a potential mate, and the distant speaker was convinced that Legolas had never thought of Aragorn as such either. They were friends, comrades in arms; had faced a thousand evils together and, most importantly of all, they trusted each other.

But the Elf was poison, a tease and a torment to all men. What's more, Legolas knew it. He knew what he did to Aragorn; to any other unfortunate being that may lay eyes upon him and he relished in the attention. He thrived off it, needed it to survive and so he would drag them in and catch them, like how a spider uses its web to grasp the attention of a fly, luring it into a trap and providing a means of death. Yes, death, death would come to Aragorn if he allowed Legolas to go untaught in the lessons of what it meant to tease one so.

Then why did the Elf not kill him? Why did the Elf not use him as nothing else but a way to satisfy cravings? To think that Legolas had such a motive, such a plan was not only folly but fully laugh worthy as well. If anything, Legolas was the fly caught in the web of humans' uncontrollable thoughts and acts of lust. He was not to blame, he could not be blamed for what he did not do or indorse, let alone desire.

Then what of the seductive tone that he spoke to Aragorn with? Of the way that he would encourage the smallest of touches between them - the collapse of the Gates of Moria, the Bridge of Kazard-Dûm, Amon Hen - it was he that had wanted those, he who had tempted Aragorn into such actions with those eyes that spoke all too clearly of his motives.

Nay, eyes that spoke all too truly of his innocence! He did not mean for any such touches to hold a deeper meaning - after all, it was the Elven way, to be open in comradely, to show support with chaste acts of physical contact.

Then he shall enjoy the touches that shall be bestowed upon him now! If it is such the Elven way then he should be used to it, grow to like it, even love it - he will *learn* to need it.

He shall not. He would hate Aragorn for it - more so then he does already. Legolas would not forgive such an act, especially after what the human had done to Gimli.

But the dwarf did bring it upon himself - he had tried to interfere with what Aragorn and Legolas had together. He was trying to impose himself upon the Elf, win his favor and heart.

But the man had nothing with the Elf and that small, rational voice knew it. There was nothing that Gimli could have tried to break apart bar a close friendship.

What were all the touches, the smiles, the whispered words of encouragement and the undying faith and trust all for then?

Friendship - that was what! They were signs of friendship and words that were needed to keep Aragorn on his path.

Never! Not even an Elf would be that supportive - especially not of a mere human unless he felt something; something deeper, something past the lines of friendship. It was the only thing to account for such actions. Unless Legolas was truly playing with him, was really the little whore that he seemed. Perchance he was, maybe he really was just toying with Aragorn, leading him on and astray - away from his betrothed and tempting him into his bed.

Why would he do that? He had no motive, no need for Aragorn and Arwen not to marry - he had almost been as happy as Aragorn when it had been announced; the joining of his two greatest friends.

Jealous. He was jealous that he would no longer have a human toy, a slab of human clay to bend to his will and to shape into whatever he wanted.

When has the Elf ever tried to make Aragorn into anything that he was not already? On occasion Legolas had given him a gentle push in the right direction, but never actually tried to make Aragorn into a thing of his want.

He has and still does! With each smile, each look cast in the man's direction he was turning him into what he wanted; someone who would melt in his gaze, fall at his feet or walk across fire with but a spoken word from the Elf. That was the way with Legolas, always trying to make others flock around him, to do his will and Aragorn was no exception.

Yet if the man crumbled, would it not be his own fault? Aragorn should have been stronger, should have been of stable enough mind to fight whatever actions of the Elf that he thought suggestive.

Look at him. Who could resist? His perfect skin, his hair, ice-blue eyes that left a man drowning in their depth and luscious lips that induced wild fantasies within the head. His voice was enough to bring a man to his knees as if shot with a dart of poison. Aye, the Elf was poison. There was no other word to describe him. Everything about him was enough to make one have need to gasp for air, to reach out blindly for a support.

Through all these years Aragorn had never felt such a thing. He knew that others did, that most humans, male or female, were driven to the point of insanity with just one look at the Elf he called friend.

Insanity, yes, maybe that was Legolas' plot after all. Maybe he did not want Aragorn to be putty in his hands but to be driven mad by his lusts, desires and the knowledge that he could do naught to satisfy them. He was indeed a cold being - no wonder he never felt the icy bite of winters frost for his blood was that chilled that it would make no never mind. His heart black, frozen like a burnt tree stump suddenly caught in the thralls of a winter storm.

Legolas was one of the most compassionate people that Aragorn had the honor of knowing - his heart was not cold! It was warm, inviting and easily broken like the tiny crystals that formed on the tops of rocks near the salty mouth of the River Lune whereupon the Grey Havens were built. He was not poison; he was life.

A stealer of life...a stealer of mind and soul. Like the witches of the realm of Angmar he liked to prey upon the weak, upon the helpless and the easily broken. Well Aragorn would have no more of it. He would not stand to be made a fool of by some flirtatious Elf - prince or no.

Mirkwood's prince - Mirkwood's *crowned* prince. There was nothing that he could do that would not bring the wrath of Mirkwood down upon him and any that stood beside him. Then again, who would stand beside the human? Most loved Legolas, saw him for the kind, gentle creature that he was. They did not have disillusioned fantasies about him being some male temptress.

All would stand with the future king. After all, there were all victims of the same sorcery, all lured into the same net of want and need never to be rewarded by the one that they all strove for. Legolas would have it that men turned arms against each other for him, that they chopped each other down like wheat on harvest just in his name. He was conceited, overbearing, sardonic and manipulative. In a word; poison. Poison to the heart and mind, to the body and soul. Poison that did not kill but grew to be addictive, made one need it more then air in their lungs or water running down their throats. He was like a deadly drug. One that you knew would destroy you but one that you must have, must use - must possess.

Then again, perhaps it was something else that made Aragorn feel this way. Maybe it was not some magick cast by the Elf that lay before him in order to make him wild with yearning. What if it was the thing that was so far away, so unattainable to even him and yet was doomed to be forever his bane?

"No," Aragorn muttered to himself, it was Legolas doing this to him...it could not be that which Frodo carried. No, it was a deploy, a trick that the Elf had used in their last conversation in order to make himself seem guilt free as Aragorn was slowly driven insane.

It had always been the Elf, always.

Looking down on him now, asleep and looking like some innocent being of majestic wonder, Aragorn knew that Legolas was aware of exactly what was going through his head. The Elf knew that Aragorn would reconsider his past words of the Ring, knew that that little voice of his conscience would try and talk him out of what was so obviously needed. It was all a game to Legolas, all some giant game board in which he could move people about with a mere command and now, for that, Legolas would finally pay; finally get what was coming to him and, at long last, he would release Aragorn of the constant yearning need that he had for the Elf.

He could fight it no more, it was as if everything about the Elf was taunting him, calling to him to touch him, to make him his. It was infuriating, aggravating and all too tempting. The way Legolas' eyes stayed open in sleep; as if he were trying to make Aragorn lose control of himself even when the Elf had rest.

Reaching down with his right hand, he made to touch the Elf's pallid skin, yet that little voice popped up again, this time more direct and personal, as if it were actually a separate being trying to break through.

'I thought he was poison?' it said with a hint of self-satisfaction as it stopped Aragorn's hand in midair. 'If he truly was poison to you, why are you about to touch him? Why take him, what make him yours when you despise him so?'

Grunting softly, Aragorn looked back at the Elf, his face a mask of calm as he slept. Maybe he did not hate him, maybe he did like him - that would explain his want to possess the Elf. But why should it? Why should he have to justify his own actions to himself? If he wanted the Elf - which he did - then he merely had to extend his hand and take...take what he always wanted.

Stretching out again, his fingers almost quivered with the want to feel the smooth, moistened skin under his touch.

'Do not do it, he is your friend!'

Biting his lip against the assault of his own mind, Aragorn settled for merely moving his hand near Legolas' face, only a few centimeters away from the pale, marble-like skin. As his hand hovered above the Elf's face, it seemed as if the voice inside of him had been crushed - as if it could no longer fight the overwhelming need that gripped at his heart, mind and body, and with each time he passed his hand over Legolas' cheek, Aragorn could almost feel the soft flesh being rubbed against his palm, his calloused fingers trailing over the flawless creamy surface.

Breathing deeply, the human let his hand drift a little lower and over the Elf's lips, imagining that he was feeling the full, soft mouth that he so desperately wanted to claim with his own. He could picture the warmth of his lips and tongue as he kissed him, the sensation of Legolas' pout as he deepened the kiss and the taste of the Elf's mouth as Legolas allowed him access to the area beyond the perfect lips.

The air seemed like the silky veil that was Legolas' hair, golden like the sun and Aragorn could not help but wonder at how much more magnificent it would look drenched in sweat and sprayed out upon a pillow of black satin as he moved above him; the light and the dark.

As Legolas slowly breathed, the human's attention was drawn to his throat and the subtle rise and fall of the tender collar bone. How he wanted to lick that skin, to taste its unique qualities as he held the thrashing beauty pinned beneath him. He wanted to make the Elf squirm, to lose that composure that he always conducted himself with and to make Legolas scream. He did not care if it was from pleasure or pain, as long as the Elf was screaming for him and only him in his sweet, tempting voice that sent shivers up and down his spine.

These thoughts invaded his mind and made his hands tingle with the need to touch pale flesh.

Yes, he would have the Elf - he would take the poison that lay before him...take it willingly.

Letting his hand trail above the prince's neck, he once again let his fingers twitch just above Legolas' full lips, Aragorn's gaze no longer including the now clear eyes. Letting his fingers slowly descend, slowly growing closer to the soft feeling that he dreamed about, he did not see the Elf's hand clutch around the hilt of a small dagger that lay concealed in the underside of his left gauntlet, nor did he realize that the Elf's heartbeat quickened when he let his first two fingers dance upon the surface of the archer's bottom lip.

Not being able to contain himself any further, Aragorn withdrew his fingers and leant down, ready to claim the Elf's lips with his own. As his tongue darted out to be awarded the first taste, a sudden whirl of movement set off his internal warning alarm yet, before he could react, he once again felt Legolas pressing a dagger to his throat.

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Tbc...

Minka: Don't you just LOVE those three little letters at the end of a chapter?

Yours Truly: Yes! It means we get to stop thinking for awhile!

Minka: Oh yeah, I back that up one hundred percent! See, I am going back to school now - I get to stop thinking!

Anyway, hope you all liked and as you can see, the slash is now coming and the story is moving into the reason that it is R rated. Go us!

Until next time! And please review!