Disclaimer/Warnings: See chapter 1!(Please)
Here we go! Three chapters at one day, feels good. But don't rely on it for the furture, as university seems to be a loooot of work this term. :-)
On with the story!
Author: MellonninEstel
Beta: Imaginigma
Chapter 9 – Hurt
Morning dawned gray and cold, the sun veiled behind dark clouds that hung full of snow, the wind telling of snow in the mountains and the trees whispering of more ice and coldness. No birds were flying, not even those that cherished the cold and the winter, the animals were hiding in their holes, either hibernating or trying to stay warm.
As did the human and the elf. Legolas had woken before dawn, first not knowing what had woken him, searching for the reason in the forest around him. His search had not shown him the reason for his waking, but as he had leaned back against the tree trunk once more, his arms automatically pulling the man with him, the reason for his waking had presented itself. Estel had a fever.
Mentally slapping himself for being so unperceptive, the elf had checked his still sleeping friend over and had noticed the flush in the man's cheeks and the heat that emanated from his still form.
A fever. The cold day and the snow, the running and the wind, the icy water and the wet clothing, of course the man would catch a fever. He should have known it. But he had not thought about it after they had made it to the trees. After he had built the fire and had unclothed the ranger.
His thoughts had been led astray by the muscled chest of the human, his strong shoulders, the tight stomach and the, oh, the tanned skin that was soft and rough at the same time. When he had settled himself behind the man, holding him, feeling his body so close, without interrupting cloths, skin on skin, the dark haired head with the tousled hair resting at his shoulder, the tickling that the strands of hair had elicited on his skin,…..aw, he had just not thought about the consequences that the break through could have caused.
And their kisses. The sweetness of the man's lips, the taste of his tongue in his own mouth, as they had stroked each other, felt each other, pressed their warm bodies together and been close, so close as they had never been before, when Estel had looked at him with those silver sparkling eyes of his, those eyes that could melt the coldest winter to spring, when he had smiled and thanked him for saving him, caressing his chest with his hand and guiding his other hand over his own, showing him the way to the places where the man wanted to be touched, needed to be touched, reacted to the touch……it had made the prince forget everything else.
And now he, or rather Estel, was paying the price for his negligence.
After noticing the dire state of the man, Legolas had fed the smoldering fire until the flames had burned high again, warming the human and himself. Tightening the blanket and the cloak around them once more, the archer had pressed himself at the man, sharing his own body warmth with him.
Estel had not woken, but when Legolas had wrapped him arms around him and had snuggled close to him, the man had moaned softly, seeking the warmth and the softness of the elf's embrace.
Now, as morning had come, the sun too weak to break through the cloudy prison at the sky, Legolas again felt for the rangers forehead and, feeling the heat of the man's skin, frowned and mentally went through his options.
Estel was ill, their healing supplies that the man had carried in his pack were drenched and useless, the tent was gone as was the man's blanket. It was a two days march to Imladris, probably more, because the snow would certainly block the entrance to the secret valley and they would need to take the longer route to get there. Bree was five days away, if they made it without further complications.
Going back to Imladris, where Lord Elrond would be able to heal his foster son seemed to be the best option. Legolas did not know what awaited him in Bree, whether they would find help there or if the humans there would be willing to help them, or able to.
Aye, they would go back to Imladris, it was the only sensible thing to do.
But although the elf knew that it was the right decision, he could not help but feel disappointed and sad at the prospect of returning to the Last Homely House.
Would Estel stand up to his feelings for him? Would he still show his feelings or would he rather act as if nothing had happened? Their relationship was as new as a spring leave, just born and it needed time to grow roots and to consolidate.
Once back in the elven town, once back with his adopted brothers and back in his foster father's care, under the careful eyes of the elven lord, would Estel feel the need to hide his new found feelings for him? Would he be afraid of being rejected by his family because he harbored feelings for him?
And if Estel still showed his feelings for him, would Lord Elrond consider him worthy for his foster son? Estel was not just anybody, he was the King of Gondor in spe, the last living heir of Isildur and he had to restore the line of Kings someday. He had a long way before him and needed strong and trustworthy companions, reliable friends…could he stand up to this test in the eyes of Estel´s family?
Sighing, Legolas knew that he would only find the answers to this questions when they arrived in Imladris. And if he wanted to reach it with at least a partly healthy young mortal ranger, they better got going.
Doing what he had done the last morning, the elf softly stroked the man's hair and then he placed a kiss onto the feverish cheek. Estel shifted closer to him, as Legolas noticed with a smile, but just as the day before, he did not wake.
"Estel, wake up. We need to go."
"Mhm."
"Not mhm, Estel. Come on, wake up."
"´m tired."
"I know, my friend. But you have to get up. We need to head back to Imladris."
It seemingly took a little time until the words that had been spoken registered in the man's mind, but when they did he opened his eyes and tried to focus them on the fair face that hovered above him, Legolas´ hand still stroking his dark hair.
"Imladris?" he said with a sleepy voice, eyes small and tired, his face still pale but not as deathly white as it had been the day before.
Smiling softly, the elf nodded. "Aye, Imladris. We are going back."
"But why?" Silver eyes that were shining brightly from fever locked on his own and Legolas sighed inwardly. That was not going to be easy.
"You have a fever, Estel. You need to go home so that you can rest and get better."
"A fever?" And as if to check it himself, the man freed one of his hands from the tangle of blanket and cloak and placed it on his forehead to see if he truly had a fever. From the expression that crossed his face, he noticed the fever too.
Disappointment and….shame flittered over his face, too brief for the elf to be sure if he had truly seen it. But Legolas knew the ranger long enough to know what the man was thinking. Bending down he placed a warm kiss onto the human's cheek, then on a spot just below the first, then one on the corner of the mouth and when their lips met in a warm kiss, their eyes closed, Estel leaned into the touch and soon his hands found their way to Legolas chest, resting there, then traveling down, down, gently, softly, until they reached the waistband of the prince´s leggings.
Without conscious thought, his lips still firmly pressed on the ranger's red and warm ones, Legolas reached out with his own arms and let his hands travel down the man's broad shoulders and then downwards, over his back until they too reached the edge of the man's clothing.
They ended their kiss in one last passionate touch and when their eyes met, Estel said softly: "But I don't want to go back." Then he leaned towards the elf, his lips finding their way to his cheek and then to his ear, kissing the pointed tip, his tongue caressing it and one of his hands gently stroked the long blond hair out of the way. His breath was warm and sweet at the elf's skin and a wonderful shiver ran down Legolas´ spine and he moaned softly.
The strong chest of the man was pressed at his own and when Estel leaned forward even further he could feel how his own hands traveled further down, resting now on the man's tight behind. Legolas felt the breath of the man speed up and how he shifted his body even further into the elven touch, their chests pressed firmly against each other, Estel´s face at Legolas neck and the elf's resting on the human's shoulder.
While one of the man's hands was holding the blond hair out of the way so that he could kiss him where the elf was very sensitive, his other hand stroked the elf's navel gently and then, suddenly and unexpectedly, reached down between the warmth of Legolas legs.
The move had come so unexpected that the elf gasped and tensed involuntarily, in sweet surprise, but for Estel, who had no experience with the archer yet, who had been shy and cautious, who had only shortly before opened up to the emotions he felt, it must have seemed as if the elf had tensed because he disliked the touch.
As if he had burned himself, the ranger withdrew his hand from Legolas, sat back and also drew back his other hand that had lingered on the elf's neck. His eyes were downcast and he did not look at the elf, but merely turned his head to the side.
Worried that he had hurt his love's feelings, Legolas took his hands back from where they rested and placed one of them under the man's chin and tilted his head until he was able to look him into the eyes.
"Estel, I am sorry."
Freeing his chin out of Legolas´ grasp, the ranger shook his head, his eyes looking at the forest around them and not at the elf as he answered: "No, I am sorry. I should not have….." he paused and then, after a soft sigh "We should head back. It is a long way."
And before Legolas could do anything more than look at the man worriedly, his voice caught in his throat and his head blank, Estel had already found his shirt and tunic at the ground besides the fire, grabbed them and had started to dress. In silent pain the prince watched as the man stood to his feet, put on his leggings and then lifted his by now dry winter cloak from the snowy forest ground.
Why had he not answered his friend? Why had he not said what he felt?
What should he do? What should he say? Oh, of course the man must now think that he had only played with him, toyed with him, stepping back when it got serious. That it had only been a game for him. A game that the man could never have won.
Tears threatened to escape his blue eyes. He knew what he wanted to do, but he knew that Estel would not believe him now. No, not now. He had to wait, but he also knew that he could not wait long. Perhaps when they had left this place under the trees behind them.
Swallowing, Legolas reached for his own clothes.
End of chapter 9
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