Silent words, Comfort me

Author's note: well now, I actually got to chapter 3! It isn't exactly NC-17, but it's pretty close. If you're uncomfortable with that, I'd suggest you skip the first bit.

It's slash, slash, slash.

Standard disclaimers apply.

Chapter 3

Aragorn whirled around in surprise as the door to his personal chambers slammed open. At the sight of the familiar figure standing in the doorway, he relaxed, and sheathed his poniard back into his boot. Old habits died hard.

He got as far as "Why…" before Legolas slammed him into a mahogany wardrobe just inside the room, green eyes burning with questions unasked, statements undeclared…desire unfulfilled.

Tilting his head upwards, Legolas pulled Aragorn's lips to his own, kissing him hungrily. After the initial shock wore off, Aragorn responded with equal fervour, crushing the elf to his chest. From the elf's lips and in his breath, Aragorn could taste the bitter remnants of wine from the banquet, and he wondered if the elf was drunk.

Whatever the reason, he wasn't exactly displeased by Legolas' demand for intimacy. It had been too long; ever since they'd returned to Gondor, they'd hardly had a moment by themselves, let alone time for anything else. And even before that, during the quest, there had been little opportunity for much besides stolen kisses and quick embraces in the dark.

Still, Aragorn was stunned by his lover's ferocity. As Legolas pushed him roughly onto the canopied bed, the elf snapped his fingers, and every candle in the room went out. By the light of the moon, his eyes were all pupil and shone unnaturally bright.

A thrill of longing ran through Aragorn, and he reached up to loosen the ties of the elf's tunic. "No." Legolas whispered, pinning his hands by his sides. Laying a gentle kiss on Aragorn's lips, he then proceeded to draw a long line of kisses around his jawbone and down his neck. Aragorn shivered at the butterfly caresses across his skin, then cried out as the elf Prince bit down on the sensitive ridge of collarbone.

He buckled against the restraint on him, but Legolas would not let him go. Instead, the elf transferred his grip so that both Aragorn's wrists were in caught in his left, freeing his right to tear off the man's shirt in a harsh jerk.

Buttons popped and hung idly on frayed threads as the discarded shirt fell to the ground. Catching Aragorn's eyes, Legolas playfully ran one slender hand across a muscled chest, then past a taut stomach, and finally, he reached lower…

Aragorn sat up in an abrupt movement which threw the elf backwards. Caught off guard, Legolas lost his hold on his hands, and Aragorn smiled mischievously. Revenge would be oh so sweet.

Reaching behind the startled elf, Aragorn pulled off the silver cord that bound his hair. His breath caught at the spill of golden hair across fair shoulders; a golden waterfall that shimmered even in the pale moonlight. The elf suddenly looked so lost, so sad, that Aragorn was overcome with the need to hold him tightly his arms, as if by his mere presence, he could exorcise whatever demons caused his beloved such pain.

In that instant, Aragorn knew he loved him. It was that simple, just because. Come what may, that would not change. There were no words to express how he felt, but he had to try.

"Legolas," he began.

"Don't." the elf said, placing a finger to his lips, "I know."

As if to burn away all traces of his momentary vulnerability, Legolas devoured Aragorn's mouth in a kiss that was, if possible, even hungrier than before. Though the few times they had lain together, Legolas had always been willing to receive, Aragorn sensed something was different tonight. The elf wasn't asking, he was demanding, and as Aragorn was pressed back against soft cushions and cold air raised goosebumps on suddenly bare legs, he had a second to wonder what had changed.

Legolas' hands held him firmly by the shoulders. Staring down at the man, his eyes were filled with an unreadable emotion as he said, "Remember me."

Then the two of them were one, and at the pinnacle of ecstasy, Aragorn's last coherent thought was that sometimes, experience really did matter.

~

Legolas waited till even breathing told him that Aragorn had fallen into deep slumber. Sliding silently out from under the blankets, he looked around the room for his discarded garments, finally finding his boots at opposite ends of the room. Casting a rueful glance at his torn breeches, he slipped on Aragorn's, tying the drawstring tight at his waist.

From his pouch, Legolas drew a thin sheet of parchment, as well as a piece of fletching made from his own hair. As he laid them on the ornate walnut study table, something inside him broke, and he bit his lip hard to keep from crying out as a sudden wash of loneliness passed over him.

Reaching up, his hands closed around the evenstar at his neck. With one harsh jerk, he ripped the glowing jewel off and placed it beside the letter. He could taste blood in his mouth now, but the salt and pain of it were a welcome distraction from the despair that threatened to overwhelm him.

Legolas turned, and walked slowly towards the heavy door of the room. With each step, unshed tears burned more demandingly at the back of his eyes, and the urge to turn around, to take just one last look at the man he was leaving behind forever grew to an almost unbearable pressure.

But he would not, could not, do it. To see him again, even for a brief moment, would destroy all the resolve he had so carefully built up from the moment he had decided to go. He wouldn't let that happen. For Aragorn's sake, for Arwen's sake, and for his own…by the blood of the Eldar that flowed through his veins, he would see this thing through.

Legolas lifted his head and squared his shoulders. Pulling open the door, he paused on the threshold.

"Fare thee well mellon," he whispered beneath his breath, and stepped out.

You'll never see him again.

I know.

His boots rang sharply on the stone of deserted hallways as he paced briskly away. The door swung slowly shut, an end to a chapter that should never have been.

~

Aragorn mumbled restlessly in his sleep, and flung his arm across the bed. Emptiness filled a place where there should have been warmth, which brought him out of troubled dreams immediately.

For a moment, he sat up in bed, disorientated, and then memories of the night came rushing back. Despite considering himself relatively…experienced, Aragorn nearly blushed at the recollection; he hadn't known it was anatomically possible to hold positions like that.

All trace of good humour soon bled away though, when he realised that the elf was nowhere in sight. A glancing ray of moonlight struck the corner of a jewel, and Aragorn's eyes widened as he realised just what it was.

Bounding off the bed, he snatched the evenstar from the table in disbelief. Turning his attention to the two items beside it, he carefully wound the lock of golden hair around his fingers before opening the folded piece of parchment.

There were only a few lines, written in Legolas' flowing script:

Estel,

I am leaving. Do not attempt to track me down. It is for the best. Remember me fondly…Namarie, melda.

May you and Arwen live long and happily together.

L.G.

Aragorn crumpled the note angrily in one fist and slammed it on the table, tipping over several small items in the process. "By the shards of Narsil…" he muttered in frustration.

Throwing on a robe, he slipped the evenstar into his pocket and strode hurriedly out of the door, determined to make the elf see sense; even if he had to pound the daylights out of him in the process.

© ai 2002

Thanks for all the encouragement. I'm going to be out of the country for a while, so the next chapter will probably take a little longer. But please keep reading and reviewing. I really appreciate it.