Stone Walls
Chapter 2
The blow was the very last thing Eomer was expecting. He lay, dazed, on his back, the wind knocked out of him by the kick delivered to his belly by a powerful, elven foot.
"Come, Eomer," Legolas said, looking down. "Even flowers have thorns."
Eomer got to his feet, amazed, hurt and angry.
Legolas stood straight and tall. "Would you hit me?" he asked in perfect sincerity, "Or am I too high for you to hit?"
Eomer backed away, slowly, dumbfounded. "Hit you?" he breathed.
"Are the hearts of men really as wet and limp as I have been told, then?"
Eomer felt rage at this comment, a rage that swallowed the fear and the estrangement. He ran at the elf, intending to make a grab for his tunic. Legolas anticipated the move and ducked under the blow, his powerful shoulder connecting forcefully with the Rider's solar plexus. Aided by Eomer's momentum but still with a show of strength that was awe-inspiring, Legolas heaved the Rider bodily from the floor and threw him over his shoulder like he was little more than a rag doll. But Eomer was a warrior and instincts kicked in, having erased all thoughts of ration. He managed to take a firm hold on the tough fabric of the elf's tunic as he fell and the elf fell with him.
They hit the roof of the Hornburg in a roll, but Eomer fought for control and ended up on top. Legolas struggled, lunging out with fists as fast and sharp as snake bites,. Eomer either avoided or blocked most of them, but one connected with his temple with dizzying force. Legolas didn't miss his chance. He brought his leg up and purchased another decent foothold on the Prince's stomach. Eomer was pushed him off with such force that he was thrown back onto his feet. He stumbled and nearly fell, but Legolas was on his feet again and Eomer balanced himself to try and meet the challenge of the advancing elf. Legolas's face was totally blank, his eyes were calculating, analysing, thinking as his body went through the motions of the fight seemingly automatically.
Eomer had lost track of all reasoning and questioning as to the purpose of this fight. All he thought about now was fighting back. He advanced.
Legolas lunged, but Eomer managed to duck the blow and kicked the feet out from under the elf. He even fell gracefully, but nearly fell over the barrier. He saved himself by gabbing Eomer. The force of the Elf's fall pulled Eomer over. He hastily grabbed at the wall and hung on. Legolas had a death grip on Eomer's chain mail tunic, though his face was calm and collected. He hung suspended, half hanging off the top of the horn burg.
Eomer tried to pull away and the elf came with his tunic. Legolas took advantage of the power of the pull and reversed their positions. He kept a strong hold on the collar of Eomer's shirt and leant against him. Eomer felt himself hanging over empty space. He vaguely heard the cries of alarm from below and realised people had spotted them fighting.
He pulled the elf's own trick on him, bringing a foot up and pushing the elf away. His own strength surprised him and legolas fell hard.
Eomer hurriedly righted himself. Legolas was getting to his feet. The fall had split the elf's lip and a crimson trail of blood ran down his chin like a river of sin.
But even this did not deter Eomer, especially since he felt bruises on his back, ribs and temple ripening. Legolas seemed unperturbed also for he ran at the Rider. Eomer faced the challenge and they collided and fell.
Eomer rolled himself on top attempted to use his greater weight to force the elf in submission. But he underestimated Legolas's strength again and Legolas pushed off the stone floor with his arm and flipped himself over on top. His grip on the collar of Eomer was like stone ivy.
There was a sudden stillness. Eomer lay on his back, dazed from both pain and wonder. He looked up at Legolas's face, still so calm and emotionless, not apologetic or angry…but still perfect, except for that one, glaring mar of the split lip and spilt blood. The sight hypnotised the man.
He felt the world slowly come back into existence around them. He felt his heavy breathing from the fight and the cold stone beneath his back. He was very aware of the warm and light weight of Legolas's taught body straddling his hips and the way those intense eyes were staring into his own.
Slowly, Eomer sat up. Legolas did not pull back, or free his tunic. Eomer's face progressed until it was scant inches from the elf's. Legolas was still and his clean scent once more enveloped Eomer with its dizzying potency. The Rider brought up his hands and laid them on top of the smooth, cool manacles of flesh that held his collar. The sight and smell of the elf's blood had a most profound affect upon him. As he clasped the hands that were pressed between their torsos, he felt the strong, rhythmic and utterly seductive beat that pulsed against his fingers from behind the elf's clothing.
The red blood against the white skin…
"I understand…" Eomer's voice was barely even a whisper. So real. So alive. So close.
Legolas neither moved or spoke, but something in his eyes emboldened the warrior. So slowly, like time itself was of no consequence, Eomer closed the inches between their faces. The gentlest of gentle touches. His lips barely brushed the delicate skin of the elf's parted lips. The tiniest taste was intoxicating. The world disappeared.
Legolas pulled away so swiftly that it was like a knife being wrenched from a wound. Eomer blinked, startled and then understood as Aragorn's footsteps tapped out a frenzied rhythm on the stone steps and emerged, flushed with confusion and anger. Eomer scrambled to his feet. Legolas stood to the side and regarded the new arrival silently.
"What is this?" Aragorn demanded, face solemn. "What madness possessed ye both?"
"No madness, Aragorn," Legolas said coolly. "'Twas nothing."
Aragorn frowned. "You tell me 'twas nothing when I saw you both myself grappling on the wall and I come up to find Eomer with blackened temple and both your lips bloodied - "
Eomer quailed. He put a finger to his lip and it came away reddened with elvish blood. He was not a cowardly man, but this laid a small kernel of concern in his belly. He was not certain of how Aragorn were to react to this incredibly complicated situation if he divulged the truth.
Legolas had stiffened. A dangerous glint had come into his smoky eyes. Aragorn's words and tone had perhaps been a bit too harsh, a bit too rash. The elf walked up level with Aragorn and said in a low, cold voice, "You of all men, Aragorn, should comprehend when I describe aught as naught, it is no more."
Legolas left without a backward glance. A confused whirl of emotions smoked in Eomer's mind, but he fought for control and pushed them away, slipping on a carefully controlled expression.
TBC
Chapter 2
The blow was the very last thing Eomer was expecting. He lay, dazed, on his back, the wind knocked out of him by the kick delivered to his belly by a powerful, elven foot.
"Come, Eomer," Legolas said, looking down. "Even flowers have thorns."
Eomer got to his feet, amazed, hurt and angry.
Legolas stood straight and tall. "Would you hit me?" he asked in perfect sincerity, "Or am I too high for you to hit?"
Eomer backed away, slowly, dumbfounded. "Hit you?" he breathed.
"Are the hearts of men really as wet and limp as I have been told, then?"
Eomer felt rage at this comment, a rage that swallowed the fear and the estrangement. He ran at the elf, intending to make a grab for his tunic. Legolas anticipated the move and ducked under the blow, his powerful shoulder connecting forcefully with the Rider's solar plexus. Aided by Eomer's momentum but still with a show of strength that was awe-inspiring, Legolas heaved the Rider bodily from the floor and threw him over his shoulder like he was little more than a rag doll. But Eomer was a warrior and instincts kicked in, having erased all thoughts of ration. He managed to take a firm hold on the tough fabric of the elf's tunic as he fell and the elf fell with him.
They hit the roof of the Hornburg in a roll, but Eomer fought for control and ended up on top. Legolas struggled, lunging out with fists as fast and sharp as snake bites,. Eomer either avoided or blocked most of them, but one connected with his temple with dizzying force. Legolas didn't miss his chance. He brought his leg up and purchased another decent foothold on the Prince's stomach. Eomer was pushed him off with such force that he was thrown back onto his feet. He stumbled and nearly fell, but Legolas was on his feet again and Eomer balanced himself to try and meet the challenge of the advancing elf. Legolas's face was totally blank, his eyes were calculating, analysing, thinking as his body went through the motions of the fight seemingly automatically.
Eomer had lost track of all reasoning and questioning as to the purpose of this fight. All he thought about now was fighting back. He advanced.
Legolas lunged, but Eomer managed to duck the blow and kicked the feet out from under the elf. He even fell gracefully, but nearly fell over the barrier. He saved himself by gabbing Eomer. The force of the Elf's fall pulled Eomer over. He hastily grabbed at the wall and hung on. Legolas had a death grip on Eomer's chain mail tunic, though his face was calm and collected. He hung suspended, half hanging off the top of the horn burg.
Eomer tried to pull away and the elf came with his tunic. Legolas took advantage of the power of the pull and reversed their positions. He kept a strong hold on the collar of Eomer's shirt and leant against him. Eomer felt himself hanging over empty space. He vaguely heard the cries of alarm from below and realised people had spotted them fighting.
He pulled the elf's own trick on him, bringing a foot up and pushing the elf away. His own strength surprised him and legolas fell hard.
Eomer hurriedly righted himself. Legolas was getting to his feet. The fall had split the elf's lip and a crimson trail of blood ran down his chin like a river of sin.
But even this did not deter Eomer, especially since he felt bruises on his back, ribs and temple ripening. Legolas seemed unperturbed also for he ran at the Rider. Eomer faced the challenge and they collided and fell.
Eomer rolled himself on top attempted to use his greater weight to force the elf in submission. But he underestimated Legolas's strength again and Legolas pushed off the stone floor with his arm and flipped himself over on top. His grip on the collar of Eomer was like stone ivy.
There was a sudden stillness. Eomer lay on his back, dazed from both pain and wonder. He looked up at Legolas's face, still so calm and emotionless, not apologetic or angry…but still perfect, except for that one, glaring mar of the split lip and spilt blood. The sight hypnotised the man.
He felt the world slowly come back into existence around them. He felt his heavy breathing from the fight and the cold stone beneath his back. He was very aware of the warm and light weight of Legolas's taught body straddling his hips and the way those intense eyes were staring into his own.
Slowly, Eomer sat up. Legolas did not pull back, or free his tunic. Eomer's face progressed until it was scant inches from the elf's. Legolas was still and his clean scent once more enveloped Eomer with its dizzying potency. The Rider brought up his hands and laid them on top of the smooth, cool manacles of flesh that held his collar. The sight and smell of the elf's blood had a most profound affect upon him. As he clasped the hands that were pressed between their torsos, he felt the strong, rhythmic and utterly seductive beat that pulsed against his fingers from behind the elf's clothing.
The red blood against the white skin…
"I understand…" Eomer's voice was barely even a whisper. So real. So alive. So close.
Legolas neither moved or spoke, but something in his eyes emboldened the warrior. So slowly, like time itself was of no consequence, Eomer closed the inches between their faces. The gentlest of gentle touches. His lips barely brushed the delicate skin of the elf's parted lips. The tiniest taste was intoxicating. The world disappeared.
Legolas pulled away so swiftly that it was like a knife being wrenched from a wound. Eomer blinked, startled and then understood as Aragorn's footsteps tapped out a frenzied rhythm on the stone steps and emerged, flushed with confusion and anger. Eomer scrambled to his feet. Legolas stood to the side and regarded the new arrival silently.
"What is this?" Aragorn demanded, face solemn. "What madness possessed ye both?"
"No madness, Aragorn," Legolas said coolly. "'Twas nothing."
Aragorn frowned. "You tell me 'twas nothing when I saw you both myself grappling on the wall and I come up to find Eomer with blackened temple and both your lips bloodied - "
Eomer quailed. He put a finger to his lip and it came away reddened with elvish blood. He was not a cowardly man, but this laid a small kernel of concern in his belly. He was not certain of how Aragorn were to react to this incredibly complicated situation if he divulged the truth.
Legolas had stiffened. A dangerous glint had come into his smoky eyes. Aragorn's words and tone had perhaps been a bit too harsh, a bit too rash. The elf walked up level with Aragorn and said in a low, cold voice, "You of all men, Aragorn, should comprehend when I describe aught as naught, it is no more."
Legolas left without a backward glance. A confused whirl of emotions smoked in Eomer's mind, but he fought for control and pushed them away, slipping on a carefully controlled expression.
TBC