LITTLE THINGS: Royal Flush
by Janet Elizabeth
Dear Mother,
As I sit in the darkness of Moria, a place no elf should ever go, I must write to you on a matter of great importance. I don't have much time, so I will make this brief. You have known for many years of my wavering in my choice of companionship. You and only you know of my dalliances with both males and females of our people. You have accepted me and my choices and told none of my encounters. You have listened to all my fears and soothed every heartache. But now I bring you a problem of a different sort and I need your discretion once again.
There is a man, a human man who has filled each and every one of my senses to the brim. I can see only him. Hear only his voice. He breathes out and I breathe in. I shadow his footsteps and watching him sleep is better than the living dream our people share. When he looks my way, I can feel the flush of pleasure at his glance cover each exposed inch of my flesh. He has taken this prince of the wood, who has seen more summers than he has been alive, and turned me into a blushing youth who cannot find his tongue to speak most of the time.
I cannot explain why this should be so, but it is. He is a man of destiny, much like the elves and men of the first age. In him I seen Huor and Tuor and Beren One Hand. He is brave like no other and his devotion to our quest is only surpassed by his great desire to see all the kingdoms of middle-earth free from the yoke of Sauron's evil. But I have yet to tell you of the best of things.
It seems my hero is also endearingly flawed as well, for despite his adoration and promises to Arwen, he is subject to the needs of any lusty full-grown male. I have caught him time and again engaged in hurried moments of self pleasure and it has made my blood run hot and my spine shiver. I long to move to him and embrace him. I desire him in a way that I have never desired any other. And still this is not the least of my concern.
I fear that it is more than lust that consumes me. I fear for the state of my heart. I fear that I would stay well beyond the last of all our people before I sought the havens. Even my growing friendship with the dwarf Gimli cannot surpass what it is I seem to feel for Aragorn.
And there is my dilemma. As you can see, a Prince of Mirkwood loves the future King of Gondor and the son of the kings of Numenor. I long to lie with him and yet, the simple thought of just holding his hand in my own and gazing deeply into his deep-set eyes fills me with a joy so bright that not even the sight of Valinor could bring me more pleasure or peace. He undoes me with just a glance and yet each moment spent near him strengthens me more.
I'm sorry Mother. I don't mean to disappoint. But I love him. Can you understand?
Your loving son,
Legolas
