A/N: 'Forever' written by Shir'ann. Original ideas and copyright, Kyrri and Shir'ann.
This is merely one chapter of a larger (way larger) fic, still in writing – we wanted
to see what reactions we got from you guys first. Flames will be used to cook orcs
with. WARNING: A/L *slash*, as in m/m relationship, but heartfelt. Nothing
explicit (OK – maybe just a little).
Disclaimer: We own none of the characters in this fic (though we would like to). They
belong to Tolkien. Tolkien is god. Bow before Tolkien. *Bows*
Summary: Their passion eternal . . . but is eternity enough?
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Find me here, speak to meI want to feel you, I need to hear you
You are the light that is leading me
To the place where I find peace again
You are the strength that keeps me walking
You are the hope that keeps me trusting
You are the life to my soul
You are my purpose
You are my everything
And how can I stand here with you and not be moved by you?
Would you tell me
How could it be any better than this?
You calm the storms, you give me rest
You hold me in your hands
You won't let me fall
You still my heart and you take my breath away
Would you take me in would you take me deeper now?
'Cause you're all that I want
You are all I need
You are everything
Everything
– Everything, Lifehouse
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The road was hard and the day had been long; tracking these orcs was no mean feat. With each passing of day and entrance of the silent nightfall that would blacken their path and make searching for sign uncertain, they feared that they would find themselves further behind when the sun rose again. Oft times running for hours without end, they tired themselves utterly, and were profusely glad for their gift of lembas from the Lady Galadriel, for they could eat of it and gain strength even as they ran. But for tonight, they had gone far enough.
The camp they made hastily as the last dying light vanished was a cheerless thing, meagre comfort for lack of soft bedding to lay tired heads on. Even the flames leaping merrily towards the sky could not brighten the darkness that prevented any conversation. Night came all too swiftly upon them and soon worn from long hours of hardened endurance, Aragorn and Legolas turned to the sweet paths of the dreams that were the only escape from the endless toil they lingered in, abandoning Gimli to first watch and forced wakefulness.
The Dwarf stood silent sentinel to the camp as the flames drew low and soon all that remained of the fire was the last dying ember, glowing sullenly in the wake of the new darkness that it left. The shadows among the trees grew deep, and the dark silence of the midnight wood left Gimli more than a little uncomfortable. It was time for Aragorn's watch. Legolas lay close to the fire on his back, eyes open and staring. No matter how often the Dwarf saw this he would never get use to it. Shaking his head at the general strangeness of Elves, he stood slowly and, throwing a few more twigs onto the fire to get it burning again, walked over to where Aragorn lay. Gimli stared at the sleeping man for a moment – he looked tired and careworn, his face lined with worry and doubt – before bending over and roughly shaking Aragorn to awareness.
"Wake up," he whispered gruffly into the Man's ear, somewhat regretting his task but unable to stay awake much longer.
"I'm awake," Aragorn said simply, sitting up. He stretched and gave a tired yawn, before rising and slowly walking to the spot the Dwarf had previously occupied. All was calm in the camp; the fire crackled merrily as it gained new strength, the quiet light of the stars bathed the woods outside the reach of its light with ethereal beauty, and already Gimli was starting to snore lightly in the place where Aragorn had lain.
Aragorn sighed. The weak weariness now always with him forebade him a good watch; he found himself more than once drifting off slightly listening to the gentle sounds of the night – he could not allow himself sleep, not while the threat of orcs was still as close. He rose, and started pacing around the camp.
Step.
He wondered what became of the Halflings, if the orcs treated them at least with dignity if not with courtesy, if they lay somewhere, abandoned, with beaten and broken bodies, or if the fell creatures had decided along the way just to have their sport and kill them – prayed for the latter not to be true.
Step.
He thought a while on Frodo and Sam, alone in the wilds, on their way to an unknown fate bearing among them the hopes and dreams of all who dwelt in Middle-Earth – could such a large burden be placed solely on the shoulders of a single Hobbit?
Step.
At last his thoughts came to rest on a single figure, the figure that invaded most of his dreams and even some waking fantasies, the one whose kiss he yearned for more than anything, who could comfort him and reassure him and promise him that his doubts in himself were unfounded; the only one where he could find true rest and peace. His eyes roamed over the camp to the sleeping bundle that was the Elf . . . and found only an empty pallet; silent crumpled sleeping mat that was tribute to his disappearance. A frown crossed Aragorn's face, one and a million alarmed thoughts leaping to the fore along with immediate worry for the Elf's well-being. Orcs were the least of a thousand dangers that might befall him in this wilderness where evil was the best way to describe the night. Duty bade him stay at camp, watchful as ever for the threat lingering always close, but the fear in his heart forbade him that and commanded his legs to travel over to where the Elf had been lying. His bow and quiver were gone, as were his twin knives and Elven cloak. This did not bid well. Silently, the Man rose, and with a single glance back at the now soundly sleeping Dwarf stalked out of the camp, taking care not to mark his passage and make tracking him an easy task. Legolas, it appeared, had thought along the same lines, making Aragorn more than once need to bend over searching for difficult imprints in the darkened path. It was as if the Elf had never passed, and the Man was sure that if he had been brought up anywhere but in Elrond's house, he could not have found him – but finally, after little more than one quarter burning of a candle, the path led to where a stream trickled musically through the forest.
Moonlight glittered on the water and shone through the leaves, bathing the banks of the stream in a gleam that seemed timeless, almost as if the Moon Goddess herself had chosen this place to rest in. And there, standing quietly near the rushing waters, stood Legolas; Aragorn saw the same moonlight reflect off his pale skin and get caught in his hair, where it reflected white gold radiance in the cool dark of the night. His bow lay on the ground next to him, and his quiver and hunting knives were strapped in their familiar position across his back; his cloak clasped tightly around his chest blended with the background so perfectly that Aragorn would have had trouble seeing him if it were not for his hair.
He stood there for a while, simply watching the Elf watch the water, an almost peaceful look of reverence pervading his features. And then, ever so quietly, he moves down to where Legolas stood, stopping just behind the Elf; so close that almost their bodies touched. The rippling of the water hid the Man's movements and rendered the Elf unaware of the one behind him.
Aragorn lifted his left hand to place in on Legolas' hip, his right hand coming up to lightly brush the blond tresses away from the right side of the Elf's neck.
Legolas startled slightly at the unsuspected contact, but hid his surprise well as he knew only one dared to touch him in this way.
Leaning forward, the Ranger placed a kiss on the bared area of the pale neck before him.
"Going somewhere?" The Ranger's voice was a whisper, a mere stirring of breath in the Elf's ear. Legolas leaned his head back and into the Man's mouth, making Aragorn's lips softly graze his pointed ear.
The Ranger's right hand slid over the Elf's chest to the clasp that held the quiver straps and, his lips still grazing the warm surface of Legolas' neck, undid it, so that the quiver and knives fell gently to the ground. Now free to press closer to the Elf, Aragorn did so, and slid his hand up to unclasp the heavy Elven cloak, which joined the objects already on the firm forest floor, before letting his hand rest on Legolas' right upper arm. The Man's lips brushed the side of the Elf's neck again before moving up to gently caress the bottom of his ear.
Legolas moaned softly in pleasure and Aragorn could feel the sensation passing through the Elf, a light shuddering that started at his shoulders and moved quickly through the rest of his body. Legolas slowly lifted his hands from his sides, bringing the left up to grasp the Man's right hand on his arm, as his right travelled across to take Aragorn's left hand on his hips, pulling them into a tight embrace. They stood so for a while looking out on the glittering waters, merely marvelling in each other and in the way their bodies seemed to fit perfectly together; as if they were made to stand this way, fearing to do aught else but just live in the tight bond they shared.
It was Aragorn who first moved to break their hold, turning Legolas around in his arms and slowly catching hold again of his right hand, bringing the upturned palm slowly to his lips to place there a single, reverent kiss – so alike to the one Legolas had graced him with what seemed like an eternity ago, when he thought him lost in dreams – the Elf dropped his gaze and flushed slightly as the awareness that Aragorn knew of his actions that night dawned on him.
The Ranger brought Legolas' hand down to rest on his shoulder before pulling his close and into a deep kiss that lasted for more than a few moments.
They broke, and Legolas leaned back, his hands roving down to unbuckle that belt of Anduril's hilt, his eyes never leaving the Ranger's grey stare. As the swords fell to the ground, the Elf's hands slipped under the now free shirt of the Ranger, roaming over the warm skin with a light touch before finally coming to rest on his back, tracing there invisible patterns. Aragorn tilted his head to the side and down to lightly place a kiss on the top of the blonde's golden tresses. The Elf lifted his head to kiss the Ranger full on the lips. Aragorn shivered as the Elf's tender lips grazed his, parting them slightly in a passionate pull of breath that stole more than air from the Ranger's body. Ecstasy coursed through him, at once agonizingly pleasurable and beautiful beyond words that human tongue could utter. Slowly, the Elf lifted his hands, still buried under Aragorn's tunic, until the heavy black material slid over the Ranger's head, causing his arms to come up and their kiss to break. It was not long, though, before the tunic lay crumpled on the ground and the Elf's lips covered his once more. Aragorn's hands came down to rest on Legolas' shoulders even as the Elf's trailed down the Ranger's chest before coming to rest on the Man's hips.
There they lingered for yet another passionate moment before Elessar's hands moved down to search for the belt that held Legolas' travel overcoat in place. Success – the belt tumbled to the ground, letting the dark green overcoat fall open to bear the white tunic underneath.
The kiss broke for lack of breath, and Aragorn's hand slid up to push the overcoat off the Elf's shoulders. Legolas' bright blue eyes met his as it fell to the ground, and he lifted his right hand to tuck a stray strand of black hair behind the Ranger's ear. Aragorn saw in the eyes of the Elf the same heated love and devotion that he knew shone in his, the same fire that soared through his body. He lifted his hand to the Elf's face, caressing the smooth lines of the high cheekbone, down to the chin and then up to stroke the sensitive area of the hairline just behind the ear. The Elf shivered and his mouth fell open, breaths coming in short soft gasps of pleasure.
Aragorn's free hand started undoing the small clasps of Legolas' tunic, never ceasing his caressing, and when he was finished, he stood back to admire the Elf, leaving him pining for further caresses. A slight smile, and the Ranger's head drew downward to place a loving kiss on the bared chest where his gaze had lingered but moments before.
He was stopped from moving down further by the firm clasp of the Elf's hands on the sides of his face, bringing his head upward again to look into his eyes. Aragorn watched him questioningly, wondering silently if maybe he had done aught to disturb his love, if he had placed misdirected lips perhaps on some still-tender hurt of old, but was reassured of innocence from any such crime by the Elf's head which fell forward to place a kiss on the side of the Ranger's neck, as the Man himself had done before to the gentle perfection that was Legolas' neck. The Ranger's head fell backward in the ecstasy the touch brought to him and the pleasure of the sensation flowed through him, leaving his knees weak with euphoria and so causing him to lay his hands on the sides of the Elf's thighs to support himself.
Legolas drew him close, breaking the contact of his lips on the Ranger's shoulder, and held him again in a tight embrace, his arms slipping behind Aragorn's back to where he could unclasp the arm bracers that protected him from the sting of the bowstring that snapped taught every time he released a deadly arrow with such perfect accuracy.
The soft thud as they hit the ground behind him alerted Aragorn to the fact that the Elf's tunic was now free to be removed, and immediately he moved to release him of it, pushing it back over Legolas' shoulder and also the Elf backwards in the process. The Ranger took a step back to admire the Elf's graceful form.
"Perfect . . ." the word, unbidden, could not help but escape from his lips, for it was the only way to describe the being almost glowing in the pale moonlight before him.
A hunger awoke in him then, a passion he had never felt before, holy in its beauty and yet consuming like a terrifying wanting need that threatened to consume and overwhelm him in his desire right then and there if he did not act on it. He reached out and pushed the Elf back roughly against the uneven bark of the tree behind them, covering his mouth desperately with his own, and felt Legolas respond with the same urgency and want as his eyes closed and he lost all conscious thought.
The kiss was deep and lingering, both mouths devouring each other hungrily in a heat of passion that flushed their faces. Hands threaded though hair, entwining blond with brown, while bodies pressed tightly together as if joined by the hip. Mouths parted slightly but heads remained close, racing hearts echoing gasping breaths.
Legolas opened his eyes and trailed his right hand down his lover's face, caressing the gentle slope of the cheekbone before lightly resting his fingertips on the Man's lips. His voice rose no more than a whisper. "You kiss me as if time will have no end, but a burden and a weight has been growing in my mind."
Aragorn's breathing calmed as he lost himself in the clear blue of the Elf's stare. The Ranger said nothing, merely lifting Legolas' hand from his lips and rising on his toes to kiss the Elf's forehead. Legolas shuddered as the sensation went through him, making his entire body respond again with a terrifying hunger. No! He could not let this emotion rule him, he must have control. He pushed the Ranger back, steeling himself against the frown lightly pervading the dark, handsome features and continued, his voice growing stronger with each syllable that passed his lips.
"Brief reality beats harshly against the
doors of my being," He reached up to wipe a stray lock of hair out of the
Ranger's eyes. "You cannot give me eternity, Aragorn – though my heart would
wish it with all the burning passion of a thousands suns in the cold dark of
night that is my soul if you are not here to fulfil me."
"Legolas . . . " The longing and pain in the Man's voice was evident, as though
he was reaching for a dream and distant star and found only the broken pieces
of a lost hope.
"Long have I known this nameless fear. It rules my heart in waking day and gives no rest for the nightmares it brings at night. It is as a poison in my veins that all my love, all the passion I possess, and all my entire being that I would devote to you, would be merely a shadow of slight joy in the long years of your passing. Will you still remember the long nights and warm embraces – and above all your kiss which I treasure above all the riches I possess?"
Legolas smiled slightly and took the Ranger's hands in his own. "It is not my ear you whisper into, but my heart; it is not my lips that you kiss but my soul." The whisper was a mere breath, a promised devotion on angel's wings that quietly pledged a hundred lifetimes in the beat of a single human heart. "I can never forget the vision of your face, seared into my very mind by the torturing light of pleasure that you give to me. My only fear is that my body will grow cold and all my emotions and thoughts wither and die if I remain too long without your touch."
The Elf held his breath and waited; hoping, wanting, wishing above all else that love should pervade where darkness cloaked all rationality of thought.
"I pledge my life and soul to you, Legolas," Elessar's voice was rife with emotion. "Eternity may be beyond my grasp, but I can give you today, and the day after that – until such time that I must exchange your embrace for the earth's. And even so I vow that you would have my love long after this has come to pass."
A soft sigh escaped the Elf's lips, and he felt a single tear run down his cheek. He cursed himself for it – that one man could hold so much power over him. Aragorn's hand slipped out of his grasp and came up to caress the side of the Elf's face, brushing aside the tear with a thumb and suddenly filling him with such longing and hunger that he fought to keep it in. A struggle raged within him but was quelled when the Ranger's mouth covered his once more.
"I need you," – came the whispered words between periods when lips did not collide hungrily. Words turned into soft moans as Aragorn's mouth left his and trailed down his face and neck and finally placed his lips on the soft flesh in the middle of the collarbone where the pulsing heartbeat could clearly be felt. Legolas leaned into the Ranger, embracing him with one arm while the other cupped the Man's chin and brought his head up to where lips could meet forehead and move down to kiss the Ranger's closed eyes.
Legolas' voice caught in his throat. He knew he was giving away more than he should; promising more than even eternity could yield time and fulfil dreams and realise hopes. And yet, he did not care; waited only for the returned whisper that would bind his heart and soul with chains stronger even than mithril.
Aragorn leaned back and lifted both hands to grasp the sides of the Elf's face.
"I want you forever . . . " The Ranger's head came down slowly to place a feather-light kiss on the pointed tip of the Elf's ear.
" . . . and a night."
(A/N : To Be Continued…)