Secrets and Pleasure, parts 3-4 (LotR)

[thefrogg]

Part 3

Legolas stood rooted to the spot, heart shattering as Aragorn's words echoed in his mind.
Your friendship pains me...friendship pains me...friendship pains me...
A broken sob escaped him, tears burning his eyes until they closed. 'Oh, Arwen, Arwen...I have failed you. You were wrong, mellon-nin...I have betrayed thee...'
The memory came unbidden as grief crushed him in a mithril-strong embrace.

~~~

"Legolas?"
Legolas turned, surprised to hear Arwen's voice this night; he'd rather thought she would be with Aragorn, as the Fellowship would be setting out on their Quest come morning, and he said as much.
Arwen only smiled gently at him and shook her head. "Aragorn and I have already said our goodbyes." Stepping to Legolas' side, she turned and looked out over the gardens for a long moment. "Walk with me?"
There was a note of authority, command, in her voice, and he could not deny her. He nodded, and followed in companionable silence as she led him deeper into the foliage, beyond the faint sounds of laughter and merrymaking that remained of the feast.
Arwen stopped in a small glade of widely spaced young trees, moving to one side to give
Legolas space. "I would ask a favor of you, mellon-nin." Her tone was sober, almost somber in its seriousness.
"Speak then, and I shall endeavor to see it done." And he would; he could not deny her anything, any more than he could deny Aragorn. She possessed Aragorn's heart.
"Forgive me if I speak in riddles; I have not the right to explain outright, but can only assure you will understand in time. You and Aragorn leave on the morrow, and I can only imagine the trials you will face. We both love him with all our being--no, Legolas," Arwen said soothingly at Legolas' gasp and expression of panic. "I am not insulted; how can I be? I would not have him leave at all if it could be helped, but I could not wish him any other company but yours. We both love him," she repeated firmly. "But in very different manner."
"Arwen, I do not think you under--"
Arwen shushed him yet again. "Let me speak, Legolas, what I have to say is important, and it is no less difficult to say than I imagine it is to hear."
Legolas stared at her for a long moment, then nodded slowly.
"You are his strength, his courage, as he doubts his own; I know this, and would have you know it as well should you not realize it already." Arwen searched his face, ignoring the flushed ears, the darkened cheekbones before continuing. "Be his comfort, should he need it; he will not ask."
Her words brought a rush of pleasure, then shock, and Legolas found himself trying to discover some hidden meaning to the request. There was none, no subtle hint that she was asking more than what the words intimated. "I would offer him whatever comfort he could require, Arwen, you know this without having to ask," he said softly.
"That is not the favor I had spoken of." She bit her lip, worrying it, her gaze upon the soft moss and leaves littering the forest floor.
"Then ask."
"It it not so much a favor...as permission. Freedom, I suppose." She swallowed, inhaled deeply before continuing. "Should you and Aragorn seek one another's embrace, I will not find it amiss." Pausing, she reached out and pressed a finger to his lips, stopping whatever protest he would have made. "I have no illusions about how horrifying the journey may become, the pains you may suffer. To deny either of you whatever pleasure you may find would be cruel and selfish. And I will not be either; I would rejoice that you could find such joys amid your sacrifice."
"Arwen, you do not know what you ask--"
"I ask you to be true to yourself for once. True to him, true to me. He will need you; do not deny him, and stop denying your heart what it craves." Her gaze was determined, and would allow him no further argument.
"What are you, Aragorn's messenger?" he asked, bitterness lending a slight edge to his voice.
"No, mellon-nin, you are."
She went on, but her voice faded as the flashback broke.

~~~~

Legolas gasped, chest heaving as precious air flooded his lungs. Bits and pieces of past conversations fought for his attention.
"I love Arwen dearly--as a sister."
"We both love him, but in very different manner."
"What are you, Aragorn's messenger?"
"No, mellon-nin, you are."
"There was a visitor to Rivendell before Arwen arrived. A messenger, really..."
"I will not have you forced."
"And your messenger friend?"
"They broke a promise to me."
"And what of our friendship?"
"To lose even that much would destroy me."
Laughter bubbled up inside him, so much making sense now. His body flushed with heat and wonder.
A quick glance showed him that Aragorn had continued on some ways. The Man stopped short at hearing Legolas call out after him, his back stiff for a long moment before he turned with obvious reluctance.
Legolas' loping run closed the distance between them in a few strides. "Aragorn, forgive me," he begged, eyes bright with joy and the tears still glittering unnoticed on his cheeks.
"Don't," Aragorn rasped. His face was filled with pained fear and regret; he'd said too much, revealed what he'd never intended.
"I have to." Legolas realized then that words would not be enough, and yet he had to try. "Forgive my blindness; I could not see, could not hear more than what I expected. It was never my intent to cause you pain."
Aragorn turned away from him at that, unable to bear the Elf's pity.
Hope and despair warring in his heart, Legolas reached out and laid a gentle hand on Aragorn's arm. He was gratified to have him not flinch, not pull away, but the Man did not turn back to him either. "I know that mere words are not enough to convince you of my sincerety, not now. I hope that you will listen to them in time." Legolas swallowed, gathering his courage to him and letting his hand slowly slide down Aragorn's arm. Debating inwardly whether or not to say anything more, he shook his head slightly, cradling Aragorn's hand in his own before doing the one thing, the only thing, that might have any chance at all of getting through to his beloved.

Aragorn started, eyes widening in shock as he felt soft skin, silky hair beneath his hand. He could sense the tiny quivers that ran through Legolas' body and had to suppress any larger reaction for fear of hurting him.
Time slowed as he turned back to stare, not at Legolas, but at his own hand, gently held to the Elf's ear. "You...why..." Aragorn licked his lips, unable to form a coherent sentence. He was well aware of the meaning behind the gesture, and could not let his hand drop as Legolas' arm lowered to his side.
Legolas was asking his hand in marriage.
"Amin mela lle.*" Legolas' voice was hoarse, shaky, as he fought to stay coherent, fought to keep his eyes open and focused. How long had he ached for Aragorn's touch like this? "Amin corm naa lle, manka lle merna ta.*" There was more to be said, but the words stuck in his throat as Aragorn's fingers flexed, sliding into the heavy silk of his hair. The edge of a calloused thumb teased the tip of his ear and he had to widen his stance to stay upright.
Aragorn tilted his head slightly, watched as Legolas' eyes glazed over with pleasure and passion. 'Beautiful,' he thought, the pain in his heart easing. He could not give the answer he wanted to, nor could he drop his hand away, not until... "Why?"
Sensing Aragorn's willingness to listen, Legolas shifted just enough to stop the slight caress so he could think. "Orcs. On the way to 'Lorien." The answer was clipped, a sure sign of how distracted he'd been only a moment before. "Couldn't send a messenger without my father's permission. Was stuck there healing from the poison, didn't get back to Mirkwood until news of your engagement arrived."
"And you could not bear to see the two of us..." Aragorn breathed, the knowledge cleansing.
"Thought my chance...our chance...was lost." Legolas swallowed hard, then shifted back until Aragorn's hand rested once more directly on his ear. He lost the battle then, his eyes rolling back as they shuttered, a tiny whimpering moan escaping him.
"Vanima,*" Aragorn whispered, watching in awe as Legolas' control unraveled.
Legolas opened his eyes, their clear blue darkened to navy. He inhaled raggedly, reaching up to still Aragorn's hand on his ear. "Are you ever going to answer me?"
Aragorn's lips twitched in a suppressed smile. "Was there a question?"
Stiffening in insult despite the spark of mischief he could see glinting in Aragorn's eyes, Legolas pulled away.
"No, wait," Aragorn said swiftly, alarmed. He hooked his elbow over the Elf's shoulder, his free hand grabbing for Legolas' other arm. If he lost contact with Legolas' ear...It did not bear thinking about. "It seems it is my turn to beg forgiveness, a'mael*." He drew closer, thumb once more stroking the tip of Legolas' ear until the tension faded.

Legolas thought for a long moment that Aragorn was going to kiss him. He wanted it, closed his eyes in anticipation of it, but instead felt the soft brush of beard against his cheek. His arms rose as if of their own volition, one hand coming to rest on Aragorn's hip just above Anduil's scabbard, the other winding around the ranger's back and pulling him into an awkward embrace.
"Aragorn?" A shiver ran through him; even to him, his voice sounded small, needy.
"Shhh, melamin."
Legolas felt moist lips against his jaw. He tilted his head, granting greater access to his throat, pressing his ear more firmly into the ranger's calloused hand. "Saes...*"
"Amin mela lle," Aragorn whispered, rubbing cat-like against the soft skin of Legolas' neck. "Lle sinta sina. N'uma n'at caela 'min mele.*" He drew back then. "Look at me." The Elf shuddered against him, but did nothing more. "Look at me," Aragorn repeated.
Blue eyes opened slowly, pupils dilated until only a thin sliver of color showed. He gasped, swallowing against his nervousness as the hand clutching his arm loosened its hold, slid up his shoulder. A calloused finger traced the tendon in his neck, coaxing a low moan from him. "You would make me wait?" The words sounded thick, drugged.
"I would savor this," Aragorn said in answer before burying his fingers in the golden silk of Legolas' hair.
Legolas tightened his hold as that rough palm covered his other ear, brushing mercilessly over the lobe and outer edge. Sagging, he let Aragorn take his weight as relief weakened his knees, relief and the sparks of arousal cascading down his spine.
"Answer enough?"
Beyond words, Legolas quieted him with a soft kiss, close-mouthed and chaste. Moments later, unable to stop himself, he teased Aragorn's mouth open with the tip of his tongue, and he sank gratefully into the first real kiss with his beloved.

* Translations
Amin mela lle.--I love you.
Amin corm naa lle, manka lle merna ta.--My heart is yours, if you wish it.
Vanima--Beautiful
a'mael--beloved
Saes--please
Lle sinta sina--You know this
N'uma n'at caela 'min mele.--No other have I loved.

End Part 3

Part 4

Legolas pulled back from the kiss slowly, gently grasping Aragorn's wrists and removing the hands from his ears, sliding them down to rest at his waist. Something struck him as...not wrong, but odd. Unexpected. He opened his eyes at Aragorn's soft moan of protest, reaching up to trace the Ranger's lower lip with a finger. Licking the faint traces of Aragorn's taste from his own lips, he thought back through everything the Man had told him, looking for clues to this inexplicable passiveness.
Aragorn was not one to let another lead, and yet he'd let Legolas have full control over that kiss, his responses tentative, almost--dare he say it--shy.
"Legolas?"
Aragorn's shaky, unsure--inexperienced--voice broke him out of his dazed confusion and left him blinking owlishly in amazement. "You've never..." He swallowed hard.
Color blossomed on Aragorn's cheeks and he fought not to look away. "I love you, want you. Taking a lover would have been an unforgivable insult. I could not...could not do that to you, to us..." His voice trailed off into a hoarse whisper, left him shaking his head. When Legolas did not reply, he began to panic. "Tell me that doesn't change things, that--"
A gentle kiss, little more than a brush of lips over his, stopped him.
"I am honored beyond words," Legolas whispered when he pulled back. "It is only that I would have you know such pleasures before the fever takes you." Another kiss, this one warm and wet, killed any embarrassment between them, Legolas cradling Aragorn's face with his hands.
There were whimpers on both sides as they separated again.
Legolas could feel Aragorn trembling in his arms and drew him closer. "It is only me, Aragorn, there is no need to be nervous."
Aragorn gave a shaky laugh, burying his face in the curve of the Elf's throat. "I've just been given everything I've wanted since the moment I laid eyes upon you. How can I not be nervous?"
Unable to suppress a soft chuckle, Legolas ran comforting hands over Aragorn's back beneath the cloak. "Then we are well matched, a'mael, for you can be no more nervous than I," he replied honestly. "Come." He untangled his body from Aragorn's and held out a hand, twining their fingers together when the Man took it. "There is something I would have you see."
Squeezing the hand in his, Aragorn followed without hesitation. A few moments later, he paused, looking up at Legolas. "You do realize we're heading the wrong direction."
Legolas burst out laughing, and Aragorn had to join him. "I'm an Elf. I know where I am going, trust me."
"And the scary thing is that I do trust you."
Aragorn's tone was lighthearted, but there was an underlying note to it that made Legolas stop and turn back to him. Using their joined hands, he drew his beloved closer, took him in his arms. "In Rivendell, Arwen came to beg a favor of me, and I could deny her nothing. Do you know why?"
Aragorn blinked, wide-eyed, at the swift change in subject, and shook his head.
Legolas placed his free hand on Aragorn's breast, felt his heart beating wildly. "She held your heart, or so I believed at that time, and what made her happy would make you happy. And as you *are* my heart...all I wanted was your happiness." He swallowed, rushing on as Aragorn blushed bright red. "I despair that I was such a coward, that I did not return to Rivendell and demand the truth--"
"Don't." Aragorn pressed a finger to Legolas' lips to silence him, and realized that the Elf was not about to be stopped so easily. Freeing his hand with no small measure of difficulty, he covered Legolas' ears--taking care of such sensitive skin--and kissed him.
Crying out softly at the sudden jolt, Legolas responded wholeheartedly, pouring all of his inner turmoil into it, all his fears and regrets, joy and love, receiving all of Aragorn's in return. Somehow he understood what Aragorn had been trying to tell him; they had little enough time to themselves, would have less in the weeks and months to come, and it would be folly to waste it on regrets.
The pair lost themselves in each other, shifting only to get closer, until a faint prickling at the back of his neck made Legolas pull away.
They were being watched.
Gasping for breath and blinking rapidly, the Elf disentangled himself, looking around for whatever had tripped his instincts.
A single tall figure stood off in the distance, silhouetted against the sky atop the ridge they'd been traveling.
Gandalf, with a bewildered expression on his face, easily visible even at this range to his Elven senses.
Knowing his friend couldn't see him, and not caring, Legolas smiled and nodded once, then turned back to Aragorn. "Time is short."
"And you still have something to show me."
Joy lit up Legolas' face. "Yes," he whispered, taking his beloved's hand in his own and tugging him towards the trees once more.
"What is it?"
"If I told you now, it would not be a surprise, now, would it?" Legolas answered teasingly, breaking into a lope.
Aragorn groaned, matching strides and ducking low branches as they disappeared into the trees.

Gandalf turned, befuddled at the embrace he'd seen across the plain, and hurried to catch up with the rest of the Fellowship.
And stopped, thanks to an urgent tug on his sleeve courtesy of Boromir, before he could stumble into a rather loud five-way argument involving the Hobbits and Gimli.
"I still say we shoulda found them a nice cellar back in Rivendell," Merry insisted.
"Merry, you can't just go shutting Master Strider and Master Elf in the root cellar," Frodo said softly.
"And why not?" Pippin demanded indignantly. "They can't even remember how many meals there are in one day."
Gimli harrumphed with no small amount of affront. "If they stopped for every meal you Hobbits eat, we'd soon be out of food, and the Nazgul would overtake us."
Merry and Pippin halted, glancing wide-eyed at each other. It was obvious, to those around them, at least, that the thought of running out of food was much more disturbing than the Nazgul.
"We are not about to run out of food, Gimli," Gandalf hurried to reassure the Hobbits. "Nor," he added with a meaningful glance as Merry opened his mouth, "are we going to stop to eat." He almost had to hold back a laugh as the Hobbit's expression swiftly changed from hope to disappointment. "Now what's this about shutting Aragorn and Legolas in a root cellar?"
"You see, sir, it's like this." Sam started, intending to continue, but Pippin interrupted before he had a chance.
"Anyone with eyes can see that those two are in love, if only they'd admit it!"
Gandalf's eyes widened in shocked surprise as he watched all four Hobbits nod in agreement, and Gimli merely harrumphed in satisfaction. A glance at Boromir showed the Man of Gondor to be shrugging helplessly. Finding his voice, he managed, "You do realize that Aragorn's engaged to Arwen, and has been in love with her for many years."
Gimli snorted. "If that's true, I'll eat my axe."
"Has he ever told you that?" Frodo asked.
Completely confused by the entire discussion, Gandalf floundered for a moment. "Who told me what?"
"Has Master Strider told you he's in love with Arwen?"
"I have it on good authority..."
Pippin once again piped up before he could finish the thought. "Has Master Strider ever told you? Himself?"
Muttering under his breath, Gandalf actually stopped to think on the matter.
"You can't think of a single time, can you?" Sam said softly. "You see?"
"That doesn't mean that--"
"What it means, is that Master Strider isn't confirming what everyone assumes to be the truth," Sam continued insistently.
"And they aren't in love or engaged, either!" Merry exclaimed, earning himself several friendly swats and a thorough hair-ruffling courtesy of Frodo.
Boromir was frowning through the laughter. "Providing this is true--and I am not certain it is--how would you know that Aragorn and Legolas are in love?"
Five sounds of incredulous disbelief met his ears, before a jumble of evidence was offered.
"Haven't you--"
"Aragorn..."
"Doesn't it..."
"One at a time, one a time!" Gandalf drowned out the cacophony of high, insistent voices.
"Aragorn's not quite...there, if Legolas isn't," Frodo started. "There is something distant in him..."
"Legolas always checks on Aragorn first, when he comes back from scouting. Always," Gimli added.
"They know the other's needs, without a word, or even a glance," Pippin put in, voice uncharacteristically subdued, serious. "They just...know."
"I have seen the longing and pain in their eyes, when they think no one is watching...I could not discover its source," Boromir said, surprising even himself.
"They wear it like a cloak, invisible until you know it's there." Frodo looked up at the Man, eyes troubled, to see him nod in agreement.
Merry opened his mouth to speak, but snapped it shut again at a look from Sam.
Sam turned back to Gandalf. "You see, sir, they're like a pair of bird's wings. They can't fly without each other." Sam stopped for a moment, his expression clouding before he continued, "But they're just slightly out of rhythm..."
Frodo picked up when Sam trailed off. "They hide their hearts from each other."
The Fellowship marched on in silence, an aire of sadness falling over them. After a few long minutes, Gandalf slammed the tip of his staff into the earth decisively, bringing them all to a startled halt.
"You're quite correct, and I admit my error." Over gasps of shock, the wizard continued. "While we have no root cellars to lock them in, and I would not condone such a thing anyhow, I would not be averse to anything that doesn't put anyone in danger."
Gimli's hearty guffaw nearly drowned out Merry and Pippin's excited babble, while Frodo and Sam merely smiled softly in the hopes of finding some way to bring their friends happiness. It was only Boromir who once more tugged urgently on Gandalf's sleeve, holding him back while the others continued on their trek across the plain.
Boromir watched until he judged the Hobbits and Gimli far enough ahead of them. "Are you sure this is wise? Admitting that Aragorn and Legolas might well feel more for each other than merely friendship is one thing," he whispered.
"Be easy, my friend," Gandalf interrupted before the Man could finish. "I highly doubt that the Hobbits will have a chance to put any plan into action, and if they do...well, then, Aragorn and Legolas very much deserve to suffer such foolishness."
"But..." Boromir tried to work through his shock and puzzlement at the wizard's answer, but could only come up with a weak "Why?"
Gandalf started after the Hobbits, the Man following. "They have the perfect opportunity to admit their feelings run deeper than the other believes, Boromir, and if they don't use it...well, let's just say such small torments as the Hobbits will treat them with is just reward."
There was no answer to that.
After several long moments, Gandalf risked a glance at his companion, and, noting the confusion written deeply in the Man's face, he sighed. "How much do you know about the Elven life cycle?"
"Life cycle? Not much, I'd just assumed..." Boromir trailed off.
"There comes a point in an Elf's life when they stop aging. Aragorn's Elven blood, thin though it is, has allowed him to experience that transition," Gandalf explained.
Brow furrowed in concentration, Boromir listened to the incomprehensible, excited babble drifting back to them from the cluster of Hobbits ahead of them. "So Aragorn's becoming immortal?" he asked finally.
"Quite so, my friend, quite so." Gandalf clapped his friend on the arm. "He may well develop other Elven traits, heightened senses, faster healing and the like, but that remains to be seen."
"If this is normal, for an Elf, or someone with Elven blood...why did Legolas still feel it necessary to quarantine him?"
That was the one question Gandalf had hoped not to have to answer. Oh well. "The transition involves an intolerance for the presence of anyone other than a single companion, and a great deal of physical intimacy." A swift glance showed Boromir's eyes wide with understanding. "Legolas was not so much quarantining Aragorn as providing much-needed privacy."
"Ah." It was all Boromir could think to offer in response as he stretched his legs, hurrying to catch up with the Hobbits.
Gandalf followed suit, a wry smile quirking his lips.

Aragorn followed Legolas as swiftly as he could, having lost the Elf's hand but a short ways into the wood. What he'd expected to be simply a large, isolated stand of trees was turning out to be much thicker than a mere oasis.
"Come on, you can do better than that!" Legolas called from somewhere up ahead.
'This is what it should always be like,' Aragorn thought to himself as he pushed through some underbrush. The teasing, mocking playfulness had always been there, but now it was accompanied by a shimmering haze of joy that made him want to laugh for no reason at all.
Wanting to gaze upon his soon-to-be lover, and blushing at that very thought, he quickened his pace, finding Legolas waiting for him in a small, clear hollow, light glinting through the trees ahead and hinting at the presence of a meadow, or perhaps more of the rocky plain they'd left behind.
"You're late."
Legolas was smiling as he said it, but the underlying tension, the uncertainty and fear in his eyes wiped the answering smile from Aragorn's face. "Legolas?"
The smile faded, and Legolas broke eye contact, turning to gaze at the bright sunlight filtering through the trees ahead of them. "Amin mela lle," he whispered, swallowing hard.
"What's wrong? What is it you want to show me?"
Silence stretched between them, heavy and tense.
"I could be banished for this," Legolas finally said, turning back to his beloved. "Denied Valinor, the Elven kingdoms, but I would not hide this from you any longer."
Aragorn's eyes widened, unable to comprehend what his ears were hearing. He followed numbly as Legolas took his hand and led him through the trees.
Broad-trunked oak and maple gave way to a small meadow, blanketed in short grasses and wildflowers. The long, single-story structure built of living vines and sapling trees, all woven together, was something out of a midsummer's dream.
Aragorn took a few steps forward, past Legolas, who dropped his hand. He could smell the heady scent of trumpet flowers, the salt-sweet tang of mineral-heavy water signalling a spring or two beyond the curtains of greenery. There were shadows hinting at more wonders inside, but he hesitated to get closer. "This..." Aragorn swallowed, voice deserting him for a long moment before he tried again. "This is an Elven trysting bower."
"It is," Legolas agreed calmly, waiting.
Aragorn turned to face him. "This cannot have been here," he said softly.
"It wasn't," Legolas agreed again.
Breaking eye contact, Aragorn paused, then turned back to stare at the bower before him. The only thing he could think of, the only answer that made sense, was out of myths, legends he'd heard as a child. And yet, here it was staring him in the face. Or rather, he was staring at it.
"You have Earthspeech."

End Part 4