Disclaimer: Don't own anything.
Please, please review. They are my fuel.
Warning: Heavy sexual content. Solid R rating. (my beta actually said its borderline NC-17 teaser, but hey, nothing happens) And yes, people are kind of out of character, because the evil authoress' magic is in the air, hehe.
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Chapter 7
As the group marched towards enemies' territory, Aragorn contemplated ruefully how things had not gone according to plan. After the kiss three nights ago, the Mirkwood Elf had deliberately avoided all contact with him. Not only had the assassin asked the Orcs to carry him, the Prince would rely messages through the soldiers instead of speaking to him directly. The Man had tried everything in his power to provoke some sort of reaction, but to no avail. The Prince simply ignored his gloating and his attempts to start an amicable conversation, leading the group towards Thranduil's realm in a tense silence.
As the moon reached its zenith, the Elf-mage signaled to the group to stop and take a rest. For the past three days, the company had traveled nonstop from the early hours of dawn until midnight. It was clear that Legolas wished to reach his father's palace as soon as possible. Whether it was due to increasing concern for the wounded Lòrien Elf or his newly developed aversion to being with Aragorn, the Man did not know.
The company was now only four days away from Elven Lands. The Man knew he would not have another chance at winning the Golden Elf's heart once they reached their destination. He was equally certain that without Legolas' protection, the Orcs would be slaughtered as soon as they entered Thranduil's realm. Thus, he must act soon to secure the Prince's aid. Failure was not an option.
Over the past few days, Aragorn had noticed that the assassin had a strange obsession with cleanliness - Legolas would leave the group every night to bathe. This was a weakness the Man sought to exploit; it would be easier to seduce a naked Elf than a clothed one. When the Man regained control of his limbs earlier this morning, he had deliberately kept it a secret. Tonight, he would pay Legolas a surprise visit at the stream. His chance to spend some quality time with his quarry had finally arrived.
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Three nights after the Harvest Festival - it was on this night, one thousand six hundred years ago that the Queen of Mirkwood was killed, the same night that Legolas' life began. Gazing out into the darkness of the woods, a wave of melancholy took hold of the Prince of Ice, tormenting him with thoughts of what could have been if the circumstances of his birth were different. This was a sensation he was familiar with as a child, this heart-wrenching sorrow that was his only companion as he spent every birthday of his life alone.
Over the years, the Prince had grown so accustomed to this phenomenon that he no longer paid it any heed. But tonight was different, his sadness more poignant, his loneliness more acute. He knew Aragorn was to blame. Not only had his captive aroused his dormant emotions, the Man had given him a glimpse of a world that could never be his. Though everything was a game to Aragorn, he showed Legolas the wonders of being held and wanted. As much as the Prince hated to admit it, the precious moments when their lips touched was the only time he had ever felt connected to someone; and in that stolen embrace was a place he secretly wished to belong.
But, none of it mattered. The Mirkwood Elf would never betray his only friend, nor did the Man truly have tender feelings for him. In fact, Legolas was certain he had not fallen in love with his captive over one kiss. What the Prince yearned was the bliss of being part of something, of not being alone anymore. All in all, it was best to purge from his mind the memories of the kiss. But as an Elf, he did not have that luxury - the sensation of Aragorn's lips against his was something he would carry with him always. All he could do was pour his melancholy and hopeless romantic delusions into song.
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Thoughts were abandoned as Aragorn followed the lilting voice through the darkness of the forest, a Man captivated by a siren's song. The beautifully haunting melody was a requiem for lost dreams, a testament of a loneliness that mirrored his own. For all his discipline, Aragorn was still only human, with needs and weaknesses. Buried in the deepest recesses of his mind was the wish to find someone who would understand the sacrifices he made for his father, someone who would love him for the person he was. Out of their own volition, his limbs marched, bringing him towards the mysterious nymph whose music had touched him as none had before.
Aragorn was close now, his heart raced in anticipation as the music grew louder. Then it happened, a soft golden glow drew his eyes to the one he sought. Amidst the tranquility of the forest, an ethereal creature with golden hair and ivory skin stood in waist-high water. Though the mysterious siren's face was hidden, his voice alone was enough to keep the Man enthralled. Drawn by the overwhelming emotions in the song, Aragorn closed the distance between them to wrap his arms loosely around the enchantress who had stolen the remains of his heart.
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Legolas never noticed the intruder until strong arms encircled him, setting his body aflame. The Elf had set magic barriers around the pond, making it impossible for any creature to cross without his knowledge. Yet, this stranger had penetrated his defenses and touched him without setting off his warning senses. Given the way his rebellious body was refusing his command to move, the Prince could guess who this enigmatic intruder was. When the visitor moved to nuzzle his neck, brushing his lips tenderly against his silken skin, sending a familiar conflagration through his veins, he knew he had once again fallen unwittingly under the Lord of Fire's spell.
"Aragorn." It was supposed to be an admonishment, to tell the Man to stop giving him this unwanted pleasure, but the name came out as a sigh instead. He did not want this; no, he could not want this. There were so many reasons why he should move away now; yet, neither his body nor what was left of his heart would listen. They wanted to be free to enjoy the magic of the moment, this precious sensation of being with someone who desired him despite his shortcomings. Instead of doing as reason dictated, Legolas allowed himself to be drawn closer to the comforting warmth of his most dangerous enemy.
The Man opened his eyes in surprise at the assassin's voice breathing his name. He should be grateful that the fates were kind to him; that the mysterious nymph he desired was the one he set out to seduce. Yet, no such thoughts entered his mind; for now, he was content with losing himself in this blissful completeness of being with the one who comforted his lonely, withered soul. Everything else could wait.
"Legolas," whispered Aragorn into the Elf's ear before moving to nibble on the sensitive point. When the Prince sighed in approval, the Man's hands began their slow exploration of Legolas' body, roaming lovingly across the silken skin. Tonight was about giving pleasure; he would do everything he could to woo the one who held the power to keep the empty darkness at bay.
The Prince moaned softly and closed his eyes, surrendering to the exquisite pleasure of being worshipped by Aragorn's gentle hands. Thoughts of protesting against the Man's administrations had long fled his mind, coherence an impossible feat the moment his lover began the tender assault on his sensitive ears. Not even in his wildest dreams had he imagined this, being consumed in the scorching blaze that was Aragorn's touch, senses overwhelmed by the thunder of his own heartbeat and the fire within his veins.
It was surreal, this pleasure that was too much yet not enough. Soon, the Man's hands drifted downwards below the water surface, inching their way towards the source of his pleasure. Instinctively, the Elf leaned back to press himself flushed against Aragorn. Then it happened; a question that jolted Legolas from this perfect dream back to harsh reality.
"Are you sure?"
The words came out of Aragorn's mouth before he could stop them. He was aroused to the point of pain, but he needed to ask. He had to give Legolas the choice; he did not want history to repeat itself, to give the Prince a reason to run from him after a shared moment of intimacy. The Golden Elf had to decide this was what he truly wanted, mind, body and soul. Only then would the Man have the one thing he craved more than claiming the beautiful assassin as his - Legolas' heart.
"We can't," replied the Prince in a pained whisper as he gathered all his strength to disentangle himself from the Man's warm embrace. To his surprise, Aragorn made no attempt to stop him. There they stood, motionless and silent amidst the tranquility of the forest, each mourning what could have been.
After a few agonizing moments, Legolas' reeling senses calmed enough for his mind to regain control. A wave of shame threatened to overwhelm him, but the Prince managed to push it to the back of his mind. What mattered most was to understand what had just happened. The Lord of Fire could have taken whatever he wanted; yet he had stopped to ask for consent. There was also the fact that Legolas' heart literally ached from the loss of the Man's warmth. It made the Prince wondered if they both cared for each other more than they realized.
"Why?" asked the Elf softly without turning; he was not ready to face Aragorn yet.
"I had to. I want more than one night of passion, Legolas; I want you," replied Aragorn quietly, eyes fixed on the Prince's lithe form. The Man knew how capable the beautiful assassin was; yet the lone Elf standing in front of him looked so vulnerable, arousing a protective instinct that he never knew he possessed. It took ever ounce of his strength to refrain from closing the distance and gathering Legolas in his arms again.
Legolas could feel the ice around his heart melting at the sweet words. He was starting to believe that Aragorn truly cared for him when he remembered how the Man had been trying to seduce him in the past few days. This was just another elaborate game the Lord of Fire planned to capture his heart! Rage and pain as he had never felt before overtook him; the surrounding forest shook from the sheer force of his emotions. Spinning around to glare at the Man who had tricked him into dreaming again, the Elf spat, "Of course, you do. The Dark Lord will be so pleased with you when you bring him the mythical Prince of Ice in chains."
The Elf's venomous words cut Aragorn to the core. The accusation reminded him of what he should have done, of his duty to his father and followers. But instead of performing his duties, he had allowed Legolas' song to banish his schemes to the back of his mind. For the first time in his life, he had let his heart pursue its desires and approached someone with no ulterior motives. Yet, his reward was this agonizing shame and hurt that threatened to tear him apart.
The Man could not decide whether he wanted to cry or kill the one whose music had lured him into caring with false promises. Instead, he steeled himself, determined not to allow his opponent see how deeply those words had wounded him. "Well, you found me out," said Aragorn with a smirk and a shake of the head. "I guess there is no tricking you into thinking I am considerate and caring, is there?"
Legolas wanted to tear the Man's head off for playing such a cruel joke on him, but knew he could not. Aragorn was his only friend's lover, not to mention the Hope of Men who held the fate of Middle Earth in his hands. Unable to find a proper response, the Prince stalked towards the shore without giving the Man a backwards glance. As he quickly dressed and left the pond, he swore he would not allow the Lord of Fire to catch him off guard again. There was no way he would make the same mistake thrice.
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A still upset Aragorn was returning to camp when he heard his soldiers' battle cries. Heedless to the fact that he had no weapons, the Man rushed towards his destination, hoping his presence would give heart to his Orcs and lead the group to victory. What he found at the camp, however, was hardly what he expected. His soldiers lied unconscious on the ground, while a bearded old man in a grey cloak crouched over his comatose lover. Stealthily, Aragorn retrieved one of his follower's swords and crept behind their uninvited guest.
But before the Man could strike, the stranger spoke, "There is no need for hostility, my friend. I just wish to examine Haldir's wounds."
"Who are you?" asked the Man without lowering his sword.
"I am Gandalf the Grey," replied the wizard, turning and straightening to face Aragorn. "Might I ask why a Man and a group of Orcs are traveling to King Thranduil's realm with the Guardian of Lòrien in tow?"
Gandalf had been spent the better part of the year away from the Eldar and had yet to learn of Haldir's capture or Legolas' release from the dungeons of Mirkwood. He was quite certain the dark-haired stranger was the lost Hope of Men; but he could not understand the purpose of Aragorn's journey to Mirkwood. He knew the Man always thought of himself as Sauron's heir.
"Haldir was injured in a spiders' attack. He will die without treatment from the Lady of Light," replied Aragorn, careful to leave out the assassin's involvement. If the wizard had hostile intentions, Legolas would be their only hope of escaping alive. The element of surprise would give the Prince the advantage if a battle were to occur.
"I think you are mistaken, my friend. Haldir is in no mortal danger. In fact, he should be waking soon," replied Gandalf, wondering who had misled the Man into believing the Lòrien Elf was in critical condition.
For a long moment, Aragorn was too stunned to speak. Legolas had lied to him! He could not allow such a thing to go unpunished. The need to seek the Mirkwood Elf for a confrontation paramount, the Man spoke, "There is something I must do. If anything bad happens to my soldiers or Haldir, I will personally hunt you down and kill you." With that threat, Aragorn marched into the woods; he would make the assassin pay for tricking him even if it was the last thing he did.
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Aragorn had never been as in tune with the forest as he was now. It was strange, to be this upset, yet able to sense the tiny shifts of the wind and the parting of the trees that showed him the way to his quarry. He was too incensed to analyze this newfound ability; at this moment, only one thing mattered - the opportunity to beat the unsuspecting Mirkwood Elf in the clearing into a pulp.
Unluckily for the Man, his aggression triggered Legolas' warning senses the moment he made his move. The Prince nimbly spun out of the way of Aragorn's lunge and used his feet to trip his assailant. But, the furious Man would not go down alone; he grabbed his opponent's tunic at the last minute, using his weight to pull the assassin onto the ground on top of him. Aragorn tried to reverse their position, but Legolas anticipated the move. Quicker than the blink of an eye, the Prince pinned Aragorn's arms to the ground and straddled him, effectively immobilizing the larger Man under his slender frame.
This sudden assault incensed the assassin who was still hurting from Aragorn's cruel trick earlier. "If it's up to me, I will kill you right now."
"Same here!" hissed the Man in a dangerous whisper as he struggled against the Elf's hold. Angry as he was, he could not help but notice how right it felt to have Legolas' body pressed flushed against his. He wondered if the Elf mage was using some sort of spell to manipulate his mind. But the fury in Legolas' sapphire orbs suggested otherwise; much like himself, the Prince was not in the proper emotional state to play mind-games.
Legolas frowned at the Man's words. Aragorn wanted to seduce him earlier in the night. This sudden hostility was unexpected. "That's new. Why the change of plans?" asked the Elf, suspicious that this was yet another trap concocted by the devious Lord of Fire.
"You tricked me!" blurted out Aragorn before he could censor his answer to sound less angry or hurt.
A sudden rush of emotions from the Man assaulted Legolas' senses. Distracted, he loosened his grip, giving his opponent the chance to flip him over and pinned him onto the ground. Normally, it would have been easy for the assassin to carry out a counterstrike; but tonight, the intensity of his opponent's feelings paralyzed him. There was naught he could do when the first of Aragorn's punches landed.
This was what Aragorn set out to do, to hurt the assassin for tricking him; yet it felt wrong, hitting this exquisite creature who suddenly looked so forlorn and vulnerable underneath him. Losing the fight against his conscience for the first time in many years, the Man halted his assault and dragged his battered victim onto his feet, shoving the slender Elf against a tree. "I am leading my men back to Dol Guldur. Try to stop me, and I'll kill you."
"Wait," whispered the Prince as soon as he regained his ability to speak.
The Man's blows stung, but Legolas was certain given his healing abilities, the evidence of this confrontation would be gone by morning. His senses, however, were still staggering from Aragorn's intense outburst of emotions. He had always known Aragorn was not as heartless as he seemed; but tonight, the Prince discovered that underneath the Lord of Fire was a Man's whose loneliness and pain mirrored his own. It took a thousand years for Legolas to learn that a person could never find happiness by burying himself. No one's approval was worth the price of consciously throwing his heart away, of deliberately becoming an empty husk of a person who could barely feel. He could not allow anyone, even his worse enemy, to suffer the same fate.
"Yes, I lied about Haldir. But you were the one who chose to come with me. If you were really the heartless heir of Sauron you pretended to be, you would have returned to Dol Guldur, regardless of what I said about him," continued Legolas softly in a matter-of-fact tone. He needed to be calm to make Aragorn see the inconsistencies in the lies fabricated to force himself to be the uncaring Lord of Fire.
"I came along because Haldir is mine and I always take care of my own. It builds loyalty and keeps morale high," replied Aragorn automatically, a standard answer he had given himself and his sire countless times before to justify his acts of 'kindness'.
"Risking his own well-being to take care of others doesn't sound like something a true son of the Dark Lord will do," commented the Prince as he held the Man captive with a penetrating gaze.
Legolas' intense azure orbs burnt into Aragorn's soul, stripping him of the barriers he spent years building around his heart. Feeling naked and vulnerable under the probing gaze, the Man stuttered, sounding much more uncertain for his liking, "You know nothing about me!"
"I know more than you think, Aragorn," smiled the Prince sadly as he began to slowly approach the Man.
With an even voice, Legolas continued, "I know you cried yourself to sleep every night when you were young, all alone in your room, hoping your father would come to comfort you. I know that a part of you dies each time you kill; that you lose a bit of yourself each time you play with someone's feelings; until one day, you woke up and convinced yourself to stop caring because it hurt too much. You buried your heart to protect it; but after all these years, you don't even know who you truly are anymore underneath all the layers of deceit and lies. Nothing is worth this grief and pain, Aragorn. The Dark Lord wants a cold-blooded killing machine, not a son; and no matter what you do, he will never care about you."
"You lie. Just like you lied about Haldir. You're trying to trick me into going to Mirkwood," accused the Man, pain emanating from his stormy gray eyes. Legolas had so aptly described his battle with his conscience that it opened up old wounds Aragorn would rather forget. It was almost as if the Elf had been with him during those bitter watches of the night, suffering with him as silent tears flowed and his heart bled. For the second time in a night, the Prince managed to rouse his dormant heart and show him that there was still hope; that he did not have to be alone anymore. Despite his resolve, Aragorn could not stop the tiny sliver of doubt that crept into his mind, wondering if all the sacrifices he made for his father were in vain, thinking of what could have been if he had followed his heart instead.
The Prince knew there was no more he could do. If he were to push any harder, he would be guilty of the same crime as the Dark Lord, of trying to mold Aragorn into the person he wanted him to be. As much as he wished to bring back the Hope of Men for his only friend, it was up to Aragorn to choose his own path. With a wearily sigh, Legolas lied a gentle hand on the Man's shoulder. "Believe what you will. I've said my piece; what to do from now on is your decision." Before the Man could say another word, the Golden Elf was gone.
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Please, please review. They are my fuel.
Warning: Heavy sexual content. Solid R rating. (my beta actually said its borderline NC-17 teaser, but hey, nothing happens) And yes, people are kind of out of character, because the evil authoress' magic is in the air, hehe.
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Chapter 7
As the group marched towards enemies' territory, Aragorn contemplated ruefully how things had not gone according to plan. After the kiss three nights ago, the Mirkwood Elf had deliberately avoided all contact with him. Not only had the assassin asked the Orcs to carry him, the Prince would rely messages through the soldiers instead of speaking to him directly. The Man had tried everything in his power to provoke some sort of reaction, but to no avail. The Prince simply ignored his gloating and his attempts to start an amicable conversation, leading the group towards Thranduil's realm in a tense silence.
As the moon reached its zenith, the Elf-mage signaled to the group to stop and take a rest. For the past three days, the company had traveled nonstop from the early hours of dawn until midnight. It was clear that Legolas wished to reach his father's palace as soon as possible. Whether it was due to increasing concern for the wounded Lòrien Elf or his newly developed aversion to being with Aragorn, the Man did not know.
The company was now only four days away from Elven Lands. The Man knew he would not have another chance at winning the Golden Elf's heart once they reached their destination. He was equally certain that without Legolas' protection, the Orcs would be slaughtered as soon as they entered Thranduil's realm. Thus, he must act soon to secure the Prince's aid. Failure was not an option.
Over the past few days, Aragorn had noticed that the assassin had a strange obsession with cleanliness - Legolas would leave the group every night to bathe. This was a weakness the Man sought to exploit; it would be easier to seduce a naked Elf than a clothed one. When the Man regained control of his limbs earlier this morning, he had deliberately kept it a secret. Tonight, he would pay Legolas a surprise visit at the stream. His chance to spend some quality time with his quarry had finally arrived.
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Three nights after the Harvest Festival - it was on this night, one thousand six hundred years ago that the Queen of Mirkwood was killed, the same night that Legolas' life began. Gazing out into the darkness of the woods, a wave of melancholy took hold of the Prince of Ice, tormenting him with thoughts of what could have been if the circumstances of his birth were different. This was a sensation he was familiar with as a child, this heart-wrenching sorrow that was his only companion as he spent every birthday of his life alone.
Over the years, the Prince had grown so accustomed to this phenomenon that he no longer paid it any heed. But tonight was different, his sadness more poignant, his loneliness more acute. He knew Aragorn was to blame. Not only had his captive aroused his dormant emotions, the Man had given him a glimpse of a world that could never be his. Though everything was a game to Aragorn, he showed Legolas the wonders of being held and wanted. As much as the Prince hated to admit it, the precious moments when their lips touched was the only time he had ever felt connected to someone; and in that stolen embrace was a place he secretly wished to belong.
But, none of it mattered. The Mirkwood Elf would never betray his only friend, nor did the Man truly have tender feelings for him. In fact, Legolas was certain he had not fallen in love with his captive over one kiss. What the Prince yearned was the bliss of being part of something, of not being alone anymore. All in all, it was best to purge from his mind the memories of the kiss. But as an Elf, he did not have that luxury - the sensation of Aragorn's lips against his was something he would carry with him always. All he could do was pour his melancholy and hopeless romantic delusions into song.
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Thoughts were abandoned as Aragorn followed the lilting voice through the darkness of the forest, a Man captivated by a siren's song. The beautifully haunting melody was a requiem for lost dreams, a testament of a loneliness that mirrored his own. For all his discipline, Aragorn was still only human, with needs and weaknesses. Buried in the deepest recesses of his mind was the wish to find someone who would understand the sacrifices he made for his father, someone who would love him for the person he was. Out of their own volition, his limbs marched, bringing him towards the mysterious nymph whose music had touched him as none had before.
Aragorn was close now, his heart raced in anticipation as the music grew louder. Then it happened, a soft golden glow drew his eyes to the one he sought. Amidst the tranquility of the forest, an ethereal creature with golden hair and ivory skin stood in waist-high water. Though the mysterious siren's face was hidden, his voice alone was enough to keep the Man enthralled. Drawn by the overwhelming emotions in the song, Aragorn closed the distance between them to wrap his arms loosely around the enchantress who had stolen the remains of his heart.
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Legolas never noticed the intruder until strong arms encircled him, setting his body aflame. The Elf had set magic barriers around the pond, making it impossible for any creature to cross without his knowledge. Yet, this stranger had penetrated his defenses and touched him without setting off his warning senses. Given the way his rebellious body was refusing his command to move, the Prince could guess who this enigmatic intruder was. When the visitor moved to nuzzle his neck, brushing his lips tenderly against his silken skin, sending a familiar conflagration through his veins, he knew he had once again fallen unwittingly under the Lord of Fire's spell.
"Aragorn." It was supposed to be an admonishment, to tell the Man to stop giving him this unwanted pleasure, but the name came out as a sigh instead. He did not want this; no, he could not want this. There were so many reasons why he should move away now; yet, neither his body nor what was left of his heart would listen. They wanted to be free to enjoy the magic of the moment, this precious sensation of being with someone who desired him despite his shortcomings. Instead of doing as reason dictated, Legolas allowed himself to be drawn closer to the comforting warmth of his most dangerous enemy.
The Man opened his eyes in surprise at the assassin's voice breathing his name. He should be grateful that the fates were kind to him; that the mysterious nymph he desired was the one he set out to seduce. Yet, no such thoughts entered his mind; for now, he was content with losing himself in this blissful completeness of being with the one who comforted his lonely, withered soul. Everything else could wait.
"Legolas," whispered Aragorn into the Elf's ear before moving to nibble on the sensitive point. When the Prince sighed in approval, the Man's hands began their slow exploration of Legolas' body, roaming lovingly across the silken skin. Tonight was about giving pleasure; he would do everything he could to woo the one who held the power to keep the empty darkness at bay.
The Prince moaned softly and closed his eyes, surrendering to the exquisite pleasure of being worshipped by Aragorn's gentle hands. Thoughts of protesting against the Man's administrations had long fled his mind, coherence an impossible feat the moment his lover began the tender assault on his sensitive ears. Not even in his wildest dreams had he imagined this, being consumed in the scorching blaze that was Aragorn's touch, senses overwhelmed by the thunder of his own heartbeat and the fire within his veins.
It was surreal, this pleasure that was too much yet not enough. Soon, the Man's hands drifted downwards below the water surface, inching their way towards the source of his pleasure. Instinctively, the Elf leaned back to press himself flushed against Aragorn. Then it happened; a question that jolted Legolas from this perfect dream back to harsh reality.
"Are you sure?"
The words came out of Aragorn's mouth before he could stop them. He was aroused to the point of pain, but he needed to ask. He had to give Legolas the choice; he did not want history to repeat itself, to give the Prince a reason to run from him after a shared moment of intimacy. The Golden Elf had to decide this was what he truly wanted, mind, body and soul. Only then would the Man have the one thing he craved more than claiming the beautiful assassin as his - Legolas' heart.
"We can't," replied the Prince in a pained whisper as he gathered all his strength to disentangle himself from the Man's warm embrace. To his surprise, Aragorn made no attempt to stop him. There they stood, motionless and silent amidst the tranquility of the forest, each mourning what could have been.
After a few agonizing moments, Legolas' reeling senses calmed enough for his mind to regain control. A wave of shame threatened to overwhelm him, but the Prince managed to push it to the back of his mind. What mattered most was to understand what had just happened. The Lord of Fire could have taken whatever he wanted; yet he had stopped to ask for consent. There was also the fact that Legolas' heart literally ached from the loss of the Man's warmth. It made the Prince wondered if they both cared for each other more than they realized.
"Why?" asked the Elf softly without turning; he was not ready to face Aragorn yet.
"I had to. I want more than one night of passion, Legolas; I want you," replied Aragorn quietly, eyes fixed on the Prince's lithe form. The Man knew how capable the beautiful assassin was; yet the lone Elf standing in front of him looked so vulnerable, arousing a protective instinct that he never knew he possessed. It took ever ounce of his strength to refrain from closing the distance and gathering Legolas in his arms again.
Legolas could feel the ice around his heart melting at the sweet words. He was starting to believe that Aragorn truly cared for him when he remembered how the Man had been trying to seduce him in the past few days. This was just another elaborate game the Lord of Fire planned to capture his heart! Rage and pain as he had never felt before overtook him; the surrounding forest shook from the sheer force of his emotions. Spinning around to glare at the Man who had tricked him into dreaming again, the Elf spat, "Of course, you do. The Dark Lord will be so pleased with you when you bring him the mythical Prince of Ice in chains."
The Elf's venomous words cut Aragorn to the core. The accusation reminded him of what he should have done, of his duty to his father and followers. But instead of performing his duties, he had allowed Legolas' song to banish his schemes to the back of his mind. For the first time in his life, he had let his heart pursue its desires and approached someone with no ulterior motives. Yet, his reward was this agonizing shame and hurt that threatened to tear him apart.
The Man could not decide whether he wanted to cry or kill the one whose music had lured him into caring with false promises. Instead, he steeled himself, determined not to allow his opponent see how deeply those words had wounded him. "Well, you found me out," said Aragorn with a smirk and a shake of the head. "I guess there is no tricking you into thinking I am considerate and caring, is there?"
Legolas wanted to tear the Man's head off for playing such a cruel joke on him, but knew he could not. Aragorn was his only friend's lover, not to mention the Hope of Men who held the fate of Middle Earth in his hands. Unable to find a proper response, the Prince stalked towards the shore without giving the Man a backwards glance. As he quickly dressed and left the pond, he swore he would not allow the Lord of Fire to catch him off guard again. There was no way he would make the same mistake thrice.
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A still upset Aragorn was returning to camp when he heard his soldiers' battle cries. Heedless to the fact that he had no weapons, the Man rushed towards his destination, hoping his presence would give heart to his Orcs and lead the group to victory. What he found at the camp, however, was hardly what he expected. His soldiers lied unconscious on the ground, while a bearded old man in a grey cloak crouched over his comatose lover. Stealthily, Aragorn retrieved one of his follower's swords and crept behind their uninvited guest.
But before the Man could strike, the stranger spoke, "There is no need for hostility, my friend. I just wish to examine Haldir's wounds."
"Who are you?" asked the Man without lowering his sword.
"I am Gandalf the Grey," replied the wizard, turning and straightening to face Aragorn. "Might I ask why a Man and a group of Orcs are traveling to King Thranduil's realm with the Guardian of Lòrien in tow?"
Gandalf had been spent the better part of the year away from the Eldar and had yet to learn of Haldir's capture or Legolas' release from the dungeons of Mirkwood. He was quite certain the dark-haired stranger was the lost Hope of Men; but he could not understand the purpose of Aragorn's journey to Mirkwood. He knew the Man always thought of himself as Sauron's heir.
"Haldir was injured in a spiders' attack. He will die without treatment from the Lady of Light," replied Aragorn, careful to leave out the assassin's involvement. If the wizard had hostile intentions, Legolas would be their only hope of escaping alive. The element of surprise would give the Prince the advantage if a battle were to occur.
"I think you are mistaken, my friend. Haldir is in no mortal danger. In fact, he should be waking soon," replied Gandalf, wondering who had misled the Man into believing the Lòrien Elf was in critical condition.
For a long moment, Aragorn was too stunned to speak. Legolas had lied to him! He could not allow such a thing to go unpunished. The need to seek the Mirkwood Elf for a confrontation paramount, the Man spoke, "There is something I must do. If anything bad happens to my soldiers or Haldir, I will personally hunt you down and kill you." With that threat, Aragorn marched into the woods; he would make the assassin pay for tricking him even if it was the last thing he did.
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Aragorn had never been as in tune with the forest as he was now. It was strange, to be this upset, yet able to sense the tiny shifts of the wind and the parting of the trees that showed him the way to his quarry. He was too incensed to analyze this newfound ability; at this moment, only one thing mattered - the opportunity to beat the unsuspecting Mirkwood Elf in the clearing into a pulp.
Unluckily for the Man, his aggression triggered Legolas' warning senses the moment he made his move. The Prince nimbly spun out of the way of Aragorn's lunge and used his feet to trip his assailant. But, the furious Man would not go down alone; he grabbed his opponent's tunic at the last minute, using his weight to pull the assassin onto the ground on top of him. Aragorn tried to reverse their position, but Legolas anticipated the move. Quicker than the blink of an eye, the Prince pinned Aragorn's arms to the ground and straddled him, effectively immobilizing the larger Man under his slender frame.
This sudden assault incensed the assassin who was still hurting from Aragorn's cruel trick earlier. "If it's up to me, I will kill you right now."
"Same here!" hissed the Man in a dangerous whisper as he struggled against the Elf's hold. Angry as he was, he could not help but notice how right it felt to have Legolas' body pressed flushed against his. He wondered if the Elf mage was using some sort of spell to manipulate his mind. But the fury in Legolas' sapphire orbs suggested otherwise; much like himself, the Prince was not in the proper emotional state to play mind-games.
Legolas frowned at the Man's words. Aragorn wanted to seduce him earlier in the night. This sudden hostility was unexpected. "That's new. Why the change of plans?" asked the Elf, suspicious that this was yet another trap concocted by the devious Lord of Fire.
"You tricked me!" blurted out Aragorn before he could censor his answer to sound less angry or hurt.
A sudden rush of emotions from the Man assaulted Legolas' senses. Distracted, he loosened his grip, giving his opponent the chance to flip him over and pinned him onto the ground. Normally, it would have been easy for the assassin to carry out a counterstrike; but tonight, the intensity of his opponent's feelings paralyzed him. There was naught he could do when the first of Aragorn's punches landed.
This was what Aragorn set out to do, to hurt the assassin for tricking him; yet it felt wrong, hitting this exquisite creature who suddenly looked so forlorn and vulnerable underneath him. Losing the fight against his conscience for the first time in many years, the Man halted his assault and dragged his battered victim onto his feet, shoving the slender Elf against a tree. "I am leading my men back to Dol Guldur. Try to stop me, and I'll kill you."
"Wait," whispered the Prince as soon as he regained his ability to speak.
The Man's blows stung, but Legolas was certain given his healing abilities, the evidence of this confrontation would be gone by morning. His senses, however, were still staggering from Aragorn's intense outburst of emotions. He had always known Aragorn was not as heartless as he seemed; but tonight, the Prince discovered that underneath the Lord of Fire was a Man's whose loneliness and pain mirrored his own. It took a thousand years for Legolas to learn that a person could never find happiness by burying himself. No one's approval was worth the price of consciously throwing his heart away, of deliberately becoming an empty husk of a person who could barely feel. He could not allow anyone, even his worse enemy, to suffer the same fate.
"Yes, I lied about Haldir. But you were the one who chose to come with me. If you were really the heartless heir of Sauron you pretended to be, you would have returned to Dol Guldur, regardless of what I said about him," continued Legolas softly in a matter-of-fact tone. He needed to be calm to make Aragorn see the inconsistencies in the lies fabricated to force himself to be the uncaring Lord of Fire.
"I came along because Haldir is mine and I always take care of my own. It builds loyalty and keeps morale high," replied Aragorn automatically, a standard answer he had given himself and his sire countless times before to justify his acts of 'kindness'.
"Risking his own well-being to take care of others doesn't sound like something a true son of the Dark Lord will do," commented the Prince as he held the Man captive with a penetrating gaze.
Legolas' intense azure orbs burnt into Aragorn's soul, stripping him of the barriers he spent years building around his heart. Feeling naked and vulnerable under the probing gaze, the Man stuttered, sounding much more uncertain for his liking, "You know nothing about me!"
"I know more than you think, Aragorn," smiled the Prince sadly as he began to slowly approach the Man.
With an even voice, Legolas continued, "I know you cried yourself to sleep every night when you were young, all alone in your room, hoping your father would come to comfort you. I know that a part of you dies each time you kill; that you lose a bit of yourself each time you play with someone's feelings; until one day, you woke up and convinced yourself to stop caring because it hurt too much. You buried your heart to protect it; but after all these years, you don't even know who you truly are anymore underneath all the layers of deceit and lies. Nothing is worth this grief and pain, Aragorn. The Dark Lord wants a cold-blooded killing machine, not a son; and no matter what you do, he will never care about you."
"You lie. Just like you lied about Haldir. You're trying to trick me into going to Mirkwood," accused the Man, pain emanating from his stormy gray eyes. Legolas had so aptly described his battle with his conscience that it opened up old wounds Aragorn would rather forget. It was almost as if the Elf had been with him during those bitter watches of the night, suffering with him as silent tears flowed and his heart bled. For the second time in a night, the Prince managed to rouse his dormant heart and show him that there was still hope; that he did not have to be alone anymore. Despite his resolve, Aragorn could not stop the tiny sliver of doubt that crept into his mind, wondering if all the sacrifices he made for his father were in vain, thinking of what could have been if he had followed his heart instead.
The Prince knew there was no more he could do. If he were to push any harder, he would be guilty of the same crime as the Dark Lord, of trying to mold Aragorn into the person he wanted him to be. As much as he wished to bring back the Hope of Men for his only friend, it was up to Aragorn to choose his own path. With a wearily sigh, Legolas lied a gentle hand on the Man's shoulder. "Believe what you will. I've said my piece; what to do from now on is your decision." Before the Man could say another word, the Golden Elf was gone.
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