(Chapter 2)
Our fearless leaders have decided we shall climb a formidable-looking mountain called Caradhras. Gandalf says he isn't happy about this, but at least it'll give him a chance to ogle Legolas's shapely legs while Legolas is walking on top of the snow. Or something. Gimli says this is an angry mountain, and then he spent a while giving us an assortment of throat-clearing sounds to demonstrate how you say its name in Dwarf languages.
I'm amazed he was able to stop staring at Legolas long enough to recognize geographical features.
Am I becoming bitter and jealous? This is rather unbecoming. On the plus side, Legolas's eyes were shooting daggers at Boromir when I was getting my daily dose of Gondorian flirtation earlier today. Dare I think he feels the same?
All right. I admit that I'm looking forward to watching him walk on snow too.
* * *
Sorry it has been so long since I last wrote.
Caradhras was a REALLY BAD idea. Big, huge, colossal mistake. Seriously, I hope Aragorn gets to be King soon so he can spend more time indoors. He completely sucks as a mountaineering guide. I nearly died of frostbite, and I'm not talking just once, but more like on an hourly basis.
Still...the night we were stuck under a cliff, while the snow piled up, Legolas took me onto his lap and wrapped me up in all four of his limbs, and covered us both with his cloak. This was heavenly for a few minutes. Imagine, if you will, where this placed us, anatomically, and keep in mind that Legolas wears rather thin, tight clothes. Yes indeed--I could feel contours of sacred places, pressed against my leg. It was too delicious. My own body responded--I'm almost sure he felt it, as his belly was in contact with me there, and he soon tightened his arms around me and I felt the bulge beneath me get a little firmer. His chin lowered in the snow-swirling darkness--I felt it against my forehead--and I lifted my face. My mouth bumped clumsily against his jaw; his lips brushed like a butterfly against my eyebrow. We would have kissed properly a second later--at least, I certainly would have tried--but then I felt other hobbits crawling under the cloak and snuggling up against us.
It was Pippin, Sam, and Merry, whining about dying of the cold. Soon Gimli, Aragorn, Boromir, and Gandalf were making noises about protecting the hobbits, and they surrounded Legolas and me as well. Sure, they added to our warmth, but rather killed the mood. And they were getting a little too personal in their attempts to "warm" us. Really, was it necessary for Aragorn to reach in and feel our nipples in order to determine if we were too cold?
"Are you trying to turn this into a nine-way, gentlemen?" snapped Legolas. But that just made them all giggle like a flock of schoolchildren. And before I knew it, Sam was on Legolas's lap with me, and was slowly edging me out. Loyal servant my arse.
But it really was a treat to watch Legolas walk on snow, six feet above my head. You can see things from a whole new angle that way. I get dizzy at the thought...and I can no longer attribute it to the altitude.
* * *
I never thought I would love an evil, possessed cave so much. Oh, MY.
We're in Moria right now, and sure, it's got its share of unpleasantries, but we're sheltered from the weather, and best of all, there are dark corners for trysts EVERYWHERE. In fact the whole place is made up of dark corners.
At first this was a bad thing. My stalkers kept groping me in the darkness, and Legolas's kept groping him. We've been telling each other about it on our watches. Whenever it's my turn to watch, he stays up with me; whenever it's his turn, I stay up. And then last night--or earlier today (I can't really tell what time of day it is in here)--while Aragorn was keeping watch...mmm, I melt just thinking of it...
Gandalf had trapped Legolas under his arm while he slept. Boromir had done the same with me. Our captors were asleep, but we were not, and we caught each other's eyes across the floor. At the same moment, we both wriggled free, crawled out of bed, grasped hands, and slipped away. Aragorn saw us, but he had to stay there and keep watch--nothing he could do to stop us.
Legolas and I walked, carrying a small torch, commiserating with each other about our molesters, until we found a secluded bench in a hollow in the wall. Legolas set the torch on the floor beside it, then picked me up, stood me on the bench so I was at his height, and...I still tremble to recall it...pulled my body close against his. His hand slid upward, from the side of my leg to my neck, then buried itself in my hair, and he began kissing my ear.
My knees nearly gave way. I clutched his shoulders, and whispered in his own language that what he was doing felt good, and that I had desired it long. He whispered back, punctuating it with licks on my neck, that he had come to love me quite without expecting to, and that he now wanted me madly. And I would have answered, but at that moment our lips met. We kissed delicately, teasingly, for several seconds, our hands squeezing one another's bodies in many places. Then he picked me up, turned, and sat down on the bench with his legs apart, placing me upon his lap so that I was straddling him. This brought vital places into contact, and, oh! How it awoke a fire in me!
"This feels so naughty," he purred, "almost as if I'm toying with a child. You're so small and beautiful, and so young."
This made me laugh--"Ah, that's what I love about you, Legolas," I answered. "I'm over fifty but you make me feel like a teenager."
And we began to stroke one another with new frenzy, but then, unfortunately, we were interrupted by Aragorn son of bloody Arathorn, who was calling for us. We stood up, and he soon appeared around the corner. He told us we had to come back, as Gandalf was warning everyone that there might be goblins on our trail or whatever. Fine. We agreed. Aragorn started to lead us back, then stopped, turned to us, and pleaded, "Can I watch, at least?"
"No!" retorted Legolas.
"I don't mean an entire rendezvous," said our noble future King, "just a kiss. Come on, kiss him!"
Eventually we agreed, and Legolas took me up in his arms. I wrapped my legs around him, and we kissed, awkwardly at first, but soon we stopped minding that Aragorn was there, and got a bit deeper into it. Finally Legolas put me down. My head was spinning deliciously.
"Well, Aragorn?" said Legolas. "Which of us is prettier? Break the tie vote for us. Who did you envy more, Frodo or me?"
Aragorn looked completely agonized. "Blast it!" he said, and turned away. "I still can't decide. Quit pressuring me!"
Ah well. I'm consumed with frustrated lust as I write all this, but it is probably a good thing Strider stopped us. I wouldn't want Legolas to think I'm easy. I mean, you can't go spreading your legs just because a gorgeous blonde says "I love you." I'll give it one more date, at least.
Anyway, there are many more days ahead of us in this cave, and I feel quite sure that the dark corners will bring naughtier things yet. I moan at the thought.
I declare, if I had known I would be getting so much action on this trip, I wouldn't have been so reluctant to come along. If only the gentlefolk of the Shire could see me now! An Elf prince for a lover! Perhaps it wouldn't really surprise them, though. They always said we Bagginses were "rather queer."
Our fearless leaders have decided we shall climb a formidable-looking mountain called Caradhras. Gandalf says he isn't happy about this, but at least it'll give him a chance to ogle Legolas's shapely legs while Legolas is walking on top of the snow. Or something. Gimli says this is an angry mountain, and then he spent a while giving us an assortment of throat-clearing sounds to demonstrate how you say its name in Dwarf languages.
I'm amazed he was able to stop staring at Legolas long enough to recognize geographical features.
Am I becoming bitter and jealous? This is rather unbecoming. On the plus side, Legolas's eyes were shooting daggers at Boromir when I was getting my daily dose of Gondorian flirtation earlier today. Dare I think he feels the same?
All right. I admit that I'm looking forward to watching him walk on snow too.
* * *
Sorry it has been so long since I last wrote.
Caradhras was a REALLY BAD idea. Big, huge, colossal mistake. Seriously, I hope Aragorn gets to be King soon so he can spend more time indoors. He completely sucks as a mountaineering guide. I nearly died of frostbite, and I'm not talking just once, but more like on an hourly basis.
Still...the night we were stuck under a cliff, while the snow piled up, Legolas took me onto his lap and wrapped me up in all four of his limbs, and covered us both with his cloak. This was heavenly for a few minutes. Imagine, if you will, where this placed us, anatomically, and keep in mind that Legolas wears rather thin, tight clothes. Yes indeed--I could feel contours of sacred places, pressed against my leg. It was too delicious. My own body responded--I'm almost sure he felt it, as his belly was in contact with me there, and he soon tightened his arms around me and I felt the bulge beneath me get a little firmer. His chin lowered in the snow-swirling darkness--I felt it against my forehead--and I lifted my face. My mouth bumped clumsily against his jaw; his lips brushed like a butterfly against my eyebrow. We would have kissed properly a second later--at least, I certainly would have tried--but then I felt other hobbits crawling under the cloak and snuggling up against us.
It was Pippin, Sam, and Merry, whining about dying of the cold. Soon Gimli, Aragorn, Boromir, and Gandalf were making noises about protecting the hobbits, and they surrounded Legolas and me as well. Sure, they added to our warmth, but rather killed the mood. And they were getting a little too personal in their attempts to "warm" us. Really, was it necessary for Aragorn to reach in and feel our nipples in order to determine if we were too cold?
"Are you trying to turn this into a nine-way, gentlemen?" snapped Legolas. But that just made them all giggle like a flock of schoolchildren. And before I knew it, Sam was on Legolas's lap with me, and was slowly edging me out. Loyal servant my arse.
But it really was a treat to watch Legolas walk on snow, six feet above my head. You can see things from a whole new angle that way. I get dizzy at the thought...and I can no longer attribute it to the altitude.
* * *
I never thought I would love an evil, possessed cave so much. Oh, MY.
We're in Moria right now, and sure, it's got its share of unpleasantries, but we're sheltered from the weather, and best of all, there are dark corners for trysts EVERYWHERE. In fact the whole place is made up of dark corners.
At first this was a bad thing. My stalkers kept groping me in the darkness, and Legolas's kept groping him. We've been telling each other about it on our watches. Whenever it's my turn to watch, he stays up with me; whenever it's his turn, I stay up. And then last night--or earlier today (I can't really tell what time of day it is in here)--while Aragorn was keeping watch...mmm, I melt just thinking of it...
Gandalf had trapped Legolas under his arm while he slept. Boromir had done the same with me. Our captors were asleep, but we were not, and we caught each other's eyes across the floor. At the same moment, we both wriggled free, crawled out of bed, grasped hands, and slipped away. Aragorn saw us, but he had to stay there and keep watch--nothing he could do to stop us.
Legolas and I walked, carrying a small torch, commiserating with each other about our molesters, until we found a secluded bench in a hollow in the wall. Legolas set the torch on the floor beside it, then picked me up, stood me on the bench so I was at his height, and...I still tremble to recall it...pulled my body close against his. His hand slid upward, from the side of my leg to my neck, then buried itself in my hair, and he began kissing my ear.
My knees nearly gave way. I clutched his shoulders, and whispered in his own language that what he was doing felt good, and that I had desired it long. He whispered back, punctuating it with licks on my neck, that he had come to love me quite without expecting to, and that he now wanted me madly. And I would have answered, but at that moment our lips met. We kissed delicately, teasingly, for several seconds, our hands squeezing one another's bodies in many places. Then he picked me up, turned, and sat down on the bench with his legs apart, placing me upon his lap so that I was straddling him. This brought vital places into contact, and, oh! How it awoke a fire in me!
"This feels so naughty," he purred, "almost as if I'm toying with a child. You're so small and beautiful, and so young."
This made me laugh--"Ah, that's what I love about you, Legolas," I answered. "I'm over fifty but you make me feel like a teenager."
And we began to stroke one another with new frenzy, but then, unfortunately, we were interrupted by Aragorn son of bloody Arathorn, who was calling for us. We stood up, and he soon appeared around the corner. He told us we had to come back, as Gandalf was warning everyone that there might be goblins on our trail or whatever. Fine. We agreed. Aragorn started to lead us back, then stopped, turned to us, and pleaded, "Can I watch, at least?"
"No!" retorted Legolas.
"I don't mean an entire rendezvous," said our noble future King, "just a kiss. Come on, kiss him!"
Eventually we agreed, and Legolas took me up in his arms. I wrapped my legs around him, and we kissed, awkwardly at first, but soon we stopped minding that Aragorn was there, and got a bit deeper into it. Finally Legolas put me down. My head was spinning deliciously.
"Well, Aragorn?" said Legolas. "Which of us is prettier? Break the tie vote for us. Who did you envy more, Frodo or me?"
Aragorn looked completely agonized. "Blast it!" he said, and turned away. "I still can't decide. Quit pressuring me!"
Ah well. I'm consumed with frustrated lust as I write all this, but it is probably a good thing Strider stopped us. I wouldn't want Legolas to think I'm easy. I mean, you can't go spreading your legs just because a gorgeous blonde says "I love you." I'll give it one more date, at least.
Anyway, there are many more days ahead of us in this cave, and I feel quite sure that the dark corners will bring naughtier things yet. I moan at the thought.
I declare, if I had known I would be getting so much action on this trip, I wouldn't have been so reluctant to come along. If only the gentlefolk of the Shire could see me now! An Elf prince for a lover! Perhaps it wouldn't really surprise them, though. They always said we Bagginses were "rather queer."