1
2
3 CHAPTER VIII
"In the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie."
3.1 J.R.R. Tolkien
The War of the Ring, as it had become known, started the fourth age in Arnor's history. Once Sauron's forces had been crushed, Gondor, Rohan, and Eriador were easily liberated. It had taken many years however to free Mirkwood from Sauron's influence. Dol Guldur remained an Orc stronghold long after the Ringwraiths abandonment. Although the wars and successive battles had succeeded, they had not come out unscathed. Many had been lost amidst the shadows.
It was often hard to believe that two hundred blissful years had passed since those horrible months of uncertainty. After a reign of nearly one century, Aragorn had stepped down, allowing his heir to take the throne. Of his heirs, for there were actually two, he and Legolas had adopted and raised Boromir's children. Although their Mother reared them, the twins remained in the City of Kings rather than with their Uncle Farimir.
Far in the distance, Emyn-nu-Fuin – the Mountains of Mirkwood – rose above the treetops. Its towering peaks stretched across the horizon until they once more disappeared into the forest. Standing high above the forest floor, on the balcony outside his bedroom, Aragorn gazed southward. Green leafed boughs obscured much of the view. However, now and then, with the shifting of limbs in the breeze he caught a glimpse of the distant mountains. Beyond, he knew lay the glittering cities of Gondor.
"Do you miss it?"
The softly spoken words sent a shiver down Aragorn's spine. His husband, lover, and partner in all things for more than two centuries moved silently across the leaf-strewn terrace. Aragorn twined his fingers with the slender ones that came to rest upon his silk-clad hips. Legolas' hands felt cool through the thin Elven robe. Nestling against his back, the elf's breath whispered across his neck with each silent exhale.
"Sometimes," Aragorn whispered. "But I think I yearn for the splendor of Gondor rather than the throne itself: the scent of the flowers in Amon Din when the Eldest of Trees bloomed, the way all of Druadan Forest seemed to change color with the onset of winter, and the lights, Gods, the way the cities would seem to glow at night."
"We can visit." Lips brushed the base of his neck. "It has been years since we left Mirkwood last."
The Ranger released Legolas' fingers and turned in his lover's arms. "Perhaps we could pass by way of Lothlorien. Autumn will soon be upon us."
"Follow the Anduin down to Minas Tirith." Grinning broadly, the elf stretched upward and laid a chaste kiss upon Aragorn's lips. "On the way home, we can go through Rohan. After all, I have been meaning to replace Arod."
Aragorn pulled the lean body against him and slid his arms about the other's waist. "Maybe we can stop by Hobbitton, visit with Sam's grandchildren."
"Oh certainly, with presents for each and every one." Legolas nuzzled the sensitive skin of Aragorn's throat.
Chuckling softly at the elf's enthusiasm, Aragorn dipped his head and teasingly swept his lips over Legolas'. Pulling away, he whispered, "You have to promise me one thing."
"Anything." Legolas moaned softly as Aragorn nibbled his way up the elf's jaw.
Aragorn ran his tongue up one delicate earlobe. "You can't name another horse Arod. Three is enough."
"Fine," the elf gasped. Tilting his head upward, he dived at the Ranger's parted lips.
When they finally parted for air, Legolas gently untied the belt of Aragorn's robe. Slowly, he turned away and began walking off the balcony, pulling the silken tie behind him. "I'll name it Estel."
"Legolas!" Aragorn yelled.
The conniving elf took off running, childlike laughter trailing in his wake. Shaking his head, Aragorn followed his giggling lover into their bedroom.
THE END
I've never done love scenes before, let alone slash, so I can only hope it doesn't sound to outlandish. Well, I hope you all enjoyed it. Fair thee well.
2
3 CHAPTER VIII
"In the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie."
3.1 J.R.R. Tolkien
The War of the Ring, as it had become known, started the fourth age in Arnor's history. Once Sauron's forces had been crushed, Gondor, Rohan, and Eriador were easily liberated. It had taken many years however to free Mirkwood from Sauron's influence. Dol Guldur remained an Orc stronghold long after the Ringwraiths abandonment. Although the wars and successive battles had succeeded, they had not come out unscathed. Many had been lost amidst the shadows.
It was often hard to believe that two hundred blissful years had passed since those horrible months of uncertainty. After a reign of nearly one century, Aragorn had stepped down, allowing his heir to take the throne. Of his heirs, for there were actually two, he and Legolas had adopted and raised Boromir's children. Although their Mother reared them, the twins remained in the City of Kings rather than with their Uncle Farimir.
Far in the distance, Emyn-nu-Fuin – the Mountains of Mirkwood – rose above the treetops. Its towering peaks stretched across the horizon until they once more disappeared into the forest. Standing high above the forest floor, on the balcony outside his bedroom, Aragorn gazed southward. Green leafed boughs obscured much of the view. However, now and then, with the shifting of limbs in the breeze he caught a glimpse of the distant mountains. Beyond, he knew lay the glittering cities of Gondor.
"Do you miss it?"
The softly spoken words sent a shiver down Aragorn's spine. His husband, lover, and partner in all things for more than two centuries moved silently across the leaf-strewn terrace. Aragorn twined his fingers with the slender ones that came to rest upon his silk-clad hips. Legolas' hands felt cool through the thin Elven robe. Nestling against his back, the elf's breath whispered across his neck with each silent exhale.
"Sometimes," Aragorn whispered. "But I think I yearn for the splendor of Gondor rather than the throne itself: the scent of the flowers in Amon Din when the Eldest of Trees bloomed, the way all of Druadan Forest seemed to change color with the onset of winter, and the lights, Gods, the way the cities would seem to glow at night."
"We can visit." Lips brushed the base of his neck. "It has been years since we left Mirkwood last."
The Ranger released Legolas' fingers and turned in his lover's arms. "Perhaps we could pass by way of Lothlorien. Autumn will soon be upon us."
"Follow the Anduin down to Minas Tirith." Grinning broadly, the elf stretched upward and laid a chaste kiss upon Aragorn's lips. "On the way home, we can go through Rohan. After all, I have been meaning to replace Arod."
Aragorn pulled the lean body against him and slid his arms about the other's waist. "Maybe we can stop by Hobbitton, visit with Sam's grandchildren."
"Oh certainly, with presents for each and every one." Legolas nuzzled the sensitive skin of Aragorn's throat.
Chuckling softly at the elf's enthusiasm, Aragorn dipped his head and teasingly swept his lips over Legolas'. Pulling away, he whispered, "You have to promise me one thing."
"Anything." Legolas moaned softly as Aragorn nibbled his way up the elf's jaw.
Aragorn ran his tongue up one delicate earlobe. "You can't name another horse Arod. Three is enough."
"Fine," the elf gasped. Tilting his head upward, he dived at the Ranger's parted lips.
When they finally parted for air, Legolas gently untied the belt of Aragorn's robe. Slowly, he turned away and began walking off the balcony, pulling the silken tie behind him. "I'll name it Estel."
"Legolas!" Aragorn yelled.
The conniving elf took off running, childlike laughter trailing in his wake. Shaking his head, Aragorn followed his giggling lover into their bedroom.
THE END
I've never done love scenes before, let alone slash, so I can only hope it doesn't sound to outlandish. Well, I hope you all enjoyed it. Fair thee well.
