King of Hearts - A Slash Story, God help me
Author’s Note: Oh no! This is turning into an awful parody of a comedy! Where is the angst, the romance, the sex? By the way, the slash is completely irrelevent to the story. I just put it in for fun.
"Aragorn?" The whisper came from the darkness, soft and soothing.
The man awoke suddenly, breaths coming in quick gasps. "Arwen?"
"I am here, beloved." An elegant lotus-pale hand grasped his own. The king of men stared blindly about him, his dark eyes seeking light. White moon beams strewn down upon the
balcony.
"All is well, Aragorn. What do you fear?" Her voice was calm and soothing.
Aragorn shook his head. "I had a dream, Arwen, a dream of terrible things I cannot say to you, lest I sully your elven ears."
She smiled. "These pointed elven ears can take much, and they hear the cry of a husband in distress, and not from a wife's chattering."
"I cannot say," he said again, agitatedly rising and pacing beside their tumbled bed. "For I do not know myself, nor the cause of such horrible events."
"Lay down," she commanded gently. "Sleep. I will watch over you."
Pride rebelled. "If aught is wrong, should I not muse over the trouble, and right it?"
"Of course," she replied. "After you rest, my lord."
He surrendered. There was no arguing with the beautiful elven lady, the evenstar of her people, and his wife.
Aragorn closed his eyes, but rest did not embrace him, though waking dreams clasped him in their shadowy arms.
-----------------------------------------------
"Aragorn!" an elf’s merry voice called. "Come see this block of stone Gimli claims is the beauteous Lady Galadriel!"
"Fool of an elf! I said it will be in the form, an inferior shaping, of the Lady Galadriel."
The king strode forward, uneasily smiling at his friends. "Is that so?"
The dwarf grumbled into his thick beard as Legolas leapt lightly from the limbs of a tall tree,
where he had been seriously scrutinizing said block of stone. "Blinded by leaves, it is no wonder that he cannot see rightly."
"Unable to see how he ought, what with his short stature, it is a wonder he can view anything at all."
Though often he had laughed at their exchanges, Aragorn did not react this day, except in a startled gesture of surprise as the elf appeared beside him.
Gimli frowned. A sense of wrongness wafted through the air with the teasing breeze. "It is not like you, Aragorn, to be astonished at an elf’s antics, especially the play of this one."
"Play, dwarf?" Legolas asked, inclining his head questioningly. "And what is it that you call grubbing about in the dirt and rock, as a child?"
Aragorn pressed calloused hands to his eyes. "Please, do not say such things," he groaned.
"Aragorn?" Gimli demanded in confusion.
Blood pounded in his body, tracing lines of fire.
"Nay!" the king shouted. "I will not succumb to you or your lures!"
"Aragorn! To whom do you speak? Who tempts you to darkness?"
The once-ranger opened his eyes to perceive the fair features of Legolas looking at him in concern.
"Nothing," he ground out. "No one."
"You growl as a warg on the fields of Rohan, to no one, to nothing?" Gimli inquired in disbelief, his craggy face furrowing.
"It is of no matter," Aragorn muttered, refusing to meet the worried gazes of his friends. "I must…I must be about my business."
"Wait, Aragorn. Let us aid you in your need."
"There is no necessity! Unlike others who loll about the day with no duties, though they are lords of their lands, I am king of Minas Tirith."
"You remind us, as though such knowledge were not ours," the elf murmured.
"Or is it that perhaps men require more care than dwarves and elves, Aragorn?" Gimli exclaimed in vexation.
_____________________________________
"But you are no more beautiful than others of your fair folk," Aragorn mused.
"And at times, my friend, it troubles me that I cannot distinguish you from your orc kindred. Although you may, after ranger journeys, appear filthier."
Aragorn could not laugh, as once he had. There was no jesting in him now, only a kindling fire that could not be quenched. Loud in its silence, the night neither approved nor alleviated his wants. He stepped forward, so that Legolas was placed between him and the cold stone behind.
The king pressed his parched lips to those of the elven prince. The lithe body, trapped against the wall, tensed.
"Is this a game you play, Aragorn?" The words teased, but the soft voice did not. Strong slender fingers came to his chest.
For a moment Aragorn recollected his senses, lost as they had been in the wild, intoxicating taste of the elf. "Nay. Only…I only…"
"You forget yourself, Elessar. Your queen. And what of your son?"
"You…you do not know…" Aragorn mumbled, stumbling back.
"Arwen knows, Estel." The elf’s face was tightly drawn in perturbation. "So why do you do this thing?"
The words fell from his mouth, heavy as lead, permanent as the black ink strokes of his signature, forever marking the parchment to his damnation.
"Because I desire you."
These and such other disastrous scenes enacted themselves before Aragorn’s unwilling eyes, and steadily, the performance worsened.
-----------------------------------------------
-----------------------------------------------
"I do not like this, Legolas. Orcs and men, together?"
"Separately terrors in their own respect, but in concert…"
"This is no time for jests," the king said sharply, immediately regretting his words. The silent, solemn elf of the Fellowship had since lightened his heart because of new friendships. It was not Aragorn’s place to deprive him of that happiness now.
Subdued, the elf lowered his head. "My regrets, Aragorn. I recognize the severity of the situation, and will follow, as always, your command."
Aragorn sighed, passing a hand over his eyes. "’Tis I who should apologize," he countered. "I have been overborne of late, and know not of what I speak."
"What do you advise we do, Aragorn?" Gimli asked, his voice coming from somewhere within his helmet. The king exchanged a humorous glance with the elf.
"I propose that we send scouts to affirm or no if the sayings are true."
"Allow me to go, Aragorn," Legolas said suddenly. "This is a mission such as one elf can do."
"But not this particular one," the dwarf parried. "You have gone soft, elf, in this White City."
Legolas stared at him. "And what of yourself, Master Dwarf? Portly as you have become, I can only marvel that you would say this to me. For the long years before you were ever conceived, I fought in battles against the threats of the Woodland Realm."
Aragorn stood silent. Legolas whirled on him, his elven gaze searching. "What say you, Aragorn? Do you wish to test me in this, as well? Shall you pick a mark, so I may pierce it with an arrow? No? A pillow then, so I may tear it to pieces with my butter knives?"
"I fear that in sharpening your wit, you have neglected your weapons," Gimli interrupted hurriedly before the king could respond, for in any way he did he was sure to lose his royal life. "It is not I who purports to see to these rumors, dangerous as they may be."
"I will go with you," the king said decisively.
"Nay!" both elf and dwarf cried.
Aragorn blinked in astonishment. "You do not mean to say I too have lost my skills?"
"Certainly not-"
"-it is only that you are king, and-"
"-no disrespect meant, not at all, we simply assumed-"
"Yes?" the once- ranger asked dangerously. "Is there aught you would say to me on this matter?"
"Nay," they finished soberly. Gimli then threw up his stout hands. "Ai! Is there no one to speak sense in this room? Will no one admit that the years have changed us?"
"We? Who are these collective people you refer to, Master Dwarf? I have aged not at all."
"Legolas, at the penalty of offending you, I must inform all present, if they know not already, that you have passed back to your elfling days."
"Gimli," the elf gritted out, " if there lay a neck on those thick shoulders, Imaldris, Minas Tirith and the Golden Wood entire would have to pry my dead fingers from-"
"Enough!" the king interposed. "We can none of us go, my friends."
Legolas bowed his head, but a determined glint remained in his grey-blue eyes, warning Aragorn that all was not over. The dwarf, being of an inadequate height, could not see the
commutation.
-----------------------------------------------
"Would you be wondering of my whereabouts?" Legolas said quietly behind him.
"Yes," Aragorn agreed before spinning around. "Legolas!"
The elf looked at him wryly. "Yes, that is what I am called."
"I…I thought to wander the palace, because I could not sleep-"
"Into my rooms, Aragorn? You do not knock, my lord? What if I had been bathing in a
ridiculously large bowl of that terrible concoction served last night, the soup?"
The king swallowed. "Is that…what is normally done in these apartments?"
"Did you come to see for yourself? Do not worry, Aragorn," the elf assured him, tucking a last dagger into his boot. "I mean to leave these chambers to your full, kingly inspection."
"Legolas! I thought we had settled-"
"You decided, my lord. Not I."
The ranger straightened, unfastening his cloak and meeting the other’s bright gaze directly. "As you may have perceived, prince, I too have come prepared. What say you to a journey together?"
-----------------------------------------------
"Aragorn," Legolas called softly, his face grim. "Here they walk."
The ranger joined him on the outstretched limb, gingerly balancing himself. "I see them," he replied, biting back a groan. So it was true. Orcs and men prowled together about the glade: clearly not bosom-friends, but apparently not foes.
Damn.
He looked at the somber elf, feeling sorrow that this fair creature should cease his laughter because of these hideous monstrosities.
The deviousness of men with the slyness of orcs…what were they planning? What did they want? Sauron and Saruman had gone. Who was their master?
An arrow whistled through the still air, pungent with the smell of unwashed bodies. Aragorn jerked back and it thudded into the tree’s trunk.
Legolas laid a long-fingered hand on his arm. "Nay, Aragorn. They aim not at us." It was true. A passing squirrel had been the target of a man’s ill-planned shot. They had not been seen, with their green and brown wayfaring garb.
"Yes, but easily it could have been my head," he hissed back.
-----------------------------------------------
His dreams grew darker, as they though a pleasant interlude could not long last. Nothing had meaning, only humiliation and pain.
"Should one attempt to escape, I will kill the other," the man taunted, grinningly hotly at his orc companions.
"What is it you want from us?" Aragorn asked, not for himself but for Legolas. He met the elf’s gaze and knew Legolas feared the same for him.
Heiken chuckled. "You come to spy on us, then dare to demand things of us? Your blood, if you want to know."
The orcs shrieked in laughed, while the uruk-hai grinned wolfishly, their teeth shining yellow in the bright sunlight. What evil power protected them, that the light bothered them not?
"A human and one of the Firstborn have come amongst our midst. A fortunate catch for us this day," the man purred. "A Firstborn…" he murmured, dark lust in his eyes. "My friends and I have long awaited this moment."
"Let me suffer," Aragorn shouted in alarm, straining against his bonds. "Please, I beg of you-"
"Keep your pleas until the end," the man ordered. "You will need them."
"Aragorn-" Legolas said warningly. Violence he already anticipated.
"Undress him," Heiken said huskily, reaching out to touch the elf’s soft skin. Legolas flinched, and his face drained of color.
Aragorn stared at him in anguish, despising the slow throb of arousal that heated his cheeks as he saw his friend shy back in fear. That such strength should be afraid, such courage daunted by a simple touch…
"Do it!" the man snapped, his control wavering between the desire to take the elf himself or to see his friend despoil him. "Or if you will not, I turn you both over to the orcs, after I have finished." He motioned to the seeming leader of the uruk-hai.
"Wait…I…we will do as you say."
The elf’s head quickly turned to him. "I would rather die," he said clearly. "Slay me, if you wish-I expect no mercy-but my friend-"
"Too easy, elf. There exists no choice here."
-----------------------------------------------
Aragorn closed his eyes, wishing desperately that this were a dream-a terrible dream, surely not of his making.
"Do not make me wait," Heiken counseled coldly.
The king’s eyelids opened. "Legolas," he murmured. "Be still, my friend. It will go easier."
Legolas raised his head, uncertainty and rage, not at Aragorn, but at the horrific circumstances, in his face.
Slowly, Aragorn reached to undo the lacings of the elf’s tunic, gently placing his mouth against Legolas’ compressed lips. Legolas started like a wild creature and the orcs jeered.
"Where now is the courage of the elves? Can you not take a mere kiss?" Heiken laughed.
Surely the elf could feel the heat between them. Aragorn caught his breath. He had enjoyed the feel of Legolas’ defiant mouth beneath his, relished the furious beat of his heart as he pressed his hands to the elf’s chest.
"I cannot do this," Legolas faltered. "’Tis wrong."
"Yes!" Heikan hissed. "That is why you must do this."
The urku-hai leader growled. "Finish what you have begun, little human, or we will do it for you."
Aragorn quickly stepped forward and, curling a hand into the unwilling elf’s tunic, nearly dragged him closer as he kissed him more insistently, not allowing Legolas to escape.
The slight but strong shoulders tensed, although Legolas did not move away. Aragorn rapidly dispensed with the rough fabric of his tunic to reveal the smooth, silky flesh beneath.
Aragorn slipped his tongue into Legolas’ mouth. The elf quivered at his unwelcome touch.
This was not Arwen. There was no gentleness, no delicate contact. It was glorious and freeing.
"On the ground. Now!" Heiken shouted.
Aragorn swept his feet to the elf’s ankles, knowing as he did that whatever happened, the Legolas allowed him.
Legolas fell, and the king followed him down, sucking harshly on his throat, breath coming in short pants. His hands, long called those of a healer, reached down between them to the fastenings of the elf’s leggings.
Instantly Aragorn found a knife from his side at his throat. He stared, breathing heavily at the sight of Legolas’ wide-eyed, betrayed gaze looking at him.
"You want this," the elf said softly, disbelievingly. There was no laughter in him now.
"Aragorn?" The whisper came from the darkness, soft and soothing.
The man awoke suddenly, breaths coming in quick gasps. "Arwen?"
"I am here, beloved." An elegant lotus-pale hand grasped his own. The king of men stared blindly about him, his dark eyes seeking light. White moon beams strewn down upon the
balcony.
"All is well, Aragorn. What do you fear?" Her voice was calm and soothing.
Aragorn shook his head. "I had a dream, Arwen, a dream of terrible things I cannot say to you, lest I sully your elven ears."
She smiled. "These pointed elven ears can take much, and they hear the cry of a husband in distress, and not from a wife's chattering."
"I cannot say," he said again, agitatedly rising and pacing beside their tumbled bed. "For I do not know myself, nor the cause of such horrible events."
"Lay down," she commanded gently. "Sleep. I will watch over you."
Pride rebelled. "If aught is wrong, should I not muse over the trouble, and right it?"
"Of course," she replied. "After you rest, my lord."
He surrendered. There was no arguing with the beautiful elven lady, the evenstar of her people, and his wife.
Aragorn closed his eyes, but rest did not embrace him, though waking dreams clasped him in their shadowy arms.
-----------------------------------------------
"Aragorn!" an elf’s merry voice called. "Come see this block of stone Gimli claims is the beauteous Lady Galadriel!"
"Fool of an elf! I said it will be in the form, an inferior shaping, of the Lady Galadriel."
The king strode forward, uneasily smiling at his friends. "Is that so?"
The dwarf grumbled into his thick beard as Legolas leapt lightly from the limbs of a tall tree,
where he had been seriously scrutinizing said block of stone. "Blinded by leaves, it is no wonder that he cannot see rightly."
"Unable to see how he ought, what with his short stature, it is a wonder he can view anything at all."
Though often he had laughed at their exchanges, Aragorn did not react this day, except in a startled gesture of surprise as the elf appeared beside him.
Gimli frowned. A sense of wrongness wafted through the air with the teasing breeze. "It is not like you, Aragorn, to be astonished at an elf’s antics, especially the play of this one."
"Play, dwarf?" Legolas asked, inclining his head questioningly. "And what is it that you call grubbing about in the dirt and rock, as a child?"
Aragorn pressed calloused hands to his eyes. "Please, do not say such things," he groaned.
"Aragorn?" Gimli demanded in confusion.
Blood pounded in his body, tracing lines of fire.
"Nay!" the king shouted. "I will not succumb to you or your lures!"
"Aragorn! To whom do you speak? Who tempts you to darkness?"
The once-ranger opened his eyes to perceive the fair features of Legolas looking at him in concern.
"Nothing," he ground out. "No one."
"You growl as a warg on the fields of Rohan, to no one, to nothing?" Gimli inquired in disbelief, his craggy face furrowing.
"It is of no matter," Aragorn muttered, refusing to meet the worried gazes of his friends. "I must…I must be about my business."
"Wait, Aragorn. Let us aid you in your need."
"There is no necessity! Unlike others who loll about the day with no duties, though they are lords of their lands, I am king of Minas Tirith."
"You remind us, as though such knowledge were not ours," the elf murmured.
"Or is it that perhaps men require more care than dwarves and elves, Aragorn?" Gimli exclaimed in vexation.
_____________________________________
"But you are no more beautiful than others of your fair folk," Aragorn mused.
"And at times, my friend, it troubles me that I cannot distinguish you from your orc kindred. Although you may, after ranger journeys, appear filthier."
Aragorn could not laugh, as once he had. There was no jesting in him now, only a kindling fire that could not be quenched. Loud in its silence, the night neither approved nor alleviated his wants. He stepped forward, so that Legolas was placed between him and the cold stone behind.
The king pressed his parched lips to those of the elven prince. The lithe body, trapped against the wall, tensed.
"Is this a game you play, Aragorn?" The words teased, but the soft voice did not. Strong slender fingers came to his chest.
For a moment Aragorn recollected his senses, lost as they had been in the wild, intoxicating taste of the elf. "Nay. Only…I only…"
"You forget yourself, Elessar. Your queen. And what of your son?"
"You…you do not know…" Aragorn mumbled, stumbling back.
"Arwen knows, Estel." The elf’s face was tightly drawn in perturbation. "So why do you do this thing?"
The words fell from his mouth, heavy as lead, permanent as the black ink strokes of his signature, forever marking the parchment to his damnation.
"Because I desire you."
These and such other disastrous scenes enacted themselves before Aragorn’s unwilling eyes, and steadily, the performance worsened.
-----------------------------------------------
-----------------------------------------------
"I do not like this, Legolas. Orcs and men, together?"
"Separately terrors in their own respect, but in concert…"
"This is no time for jests," the king said sharply, immediately regretting his words. The silent, solemn elf of the Fellowship had since lightened his heart because of new friendships. It was not Aragorn’s place to deprive him of that happiness now.
Subdued, the elf lowered his head. "My regrets, Aragorn. I recognize the severity of the situation, and will follow, as always, your command."
Aragorn sighed, passing a hand over his eyes. "’Tis I who should apologize," he countered. "I have been overborne of late, and know not of what I speak."
"What do you advise we do, Aragorn?" Gimli asked, his voice coming from somewhere within his helmet. The king exchanged a humorous glance with the elf.
"I propose that we send scouts to affirm or no if the sayings are true."
"Allow me to go, Aragorn," Legolas said suddenly. "This is a mission such as one elf can do."
"But not this particular one," the dwarf parried. "You have gone soft, elf, in this White City."
Legolas stared at him. "And what of yourself, Master Dwarf? Portly as you have become, I can only marvel that you would say this to me. For the long years before you were ever conceived, I fought in battles against the threats of the Woodland Realm."
Aragorn stood silent. Legolas whirled on him, his elven gaze searching. "What say you, Aragorn? Do you wish to test me in this, as well? Shall you pick a mark, so I may pierce it with an arrow? No? A pillow then, so I may tear it to pieces with my butter knives?"
"I fear that in sharpening your wit, you have neglected your weapons," Gimli interrupted hurriedly before the king could respond, for in any way he did he was sure to lose his royal life. "It is not I who purports to see to these rumors, dangerous as they may be."
"I will go with you," the king said decisively.
"Nay!" both elf and dwarf cried.
Aragorn blinked in astonishment. "You do not mean to say I too have lost my skills?"
"Certainly not-"
"-it is only that you are king, and-"
"-no disrespect meant, not at all, we simply assumed-"
"Yes?" the once- ranger asked dangerously. "Is there aught you would say to me on this matter?"
"Nay," they finished soberly. Gimli then threw up his stout hands. "Ai! Is there no one to speak sense in this room? Will no one admit that the years have changed us?"
"We? Who are these collective people you refer to, Master Dwarf? I have aged not at all."
"Legolas, at the penalty of offending you, I must inform all present, if they know not already, that you have passed back to your elfling days."
"Gimli," the elf gritted out, " if there lay a neck on those thick shoulders, Imaldris, Minas Tirith and the Golden Wood entire would have to pry my dead fingers from-"
"Enough!" the king interposed. "We can none of us go, my friends."
Legolas bowed his head, but a determined glint remained in his grey-blue eyes, warning Aragorn that all was not over. The dwarf, being of an inadequate height, could not see the
commutation.
-----------------------------------------------
"Would you be wondering of my whereabouts?" Legolas said quietly behind him.
"Yes," Aragorn agreed before spinning around. "Legolas!"
The elf looked at him wryly. "Yes, that is what I am called."
"I…I thought to wander the palace, because I could not sleep-"
"Into my rooms, Aragorn? You do not knock, my lord? What if I had been bathing in a
ridiculously large bowl of that terrible concoction served last night, the soup?"
The king swallowed. "Is that…what is normally done in these apartments?"
"Did you come to see for yourself? Do not worry, Aragorn," the elf assured him, tucking a last dagger into his boot. "I mean to leave these chambers to your full, kingly inspection."
"Legolas! I thought we had settled-"
"You decided, my lord. Not I."
The ranger straightened, unfastening his cloak and meeting the other’s bright gaze directly. "As you may have perceived, prince, I too have come prepared. What say you to a journey together?"
-----------------------------------------------
"Aragorn," Legolas called softly, his face grim. "Here they walk."
The ranger joined him on the outstretched limb, gingerly balancing himself. "I see them," he replied, biting back a groan. So it was true. Orcs and men prowled together about the glade: clearly not bosom-friends, but apparently not foes.
Damn.
He looked at the somber elf, feeling sorrow that this fair creature should cease his laughter because of these hideous monstrosities.
The deviousness of men with the slyness of orcs…what were they planning? What did they want? Sauron and Saruman had gone. Who was their master?
An arrow whistled through the still air, pungent with the smell of unwashed bodies. Aragorn jerked back and it thudded into the tree’s trunk.
Legolas laid a long-fingered hand on his arm. "Nay, Aragorn. They aim not at us." It was true. A passing squirrel had been the target of a man’s ill-planned shot. They had not been seen, with their green and brown wayfaring garb.
"Yes, but easily it could have been my head," he hissed back.
-----------------------------------------------
His dreams grew darker, as they though a pleasant interlude could not long last. Nothing had meaning, only humiliation and pain.
"Should one attempt to escape, I will kill the other," the man taunted, grinningly hotly at his orc companions.
"What is it you want from us?" Aragorn asked, not for himself but for Legolas. He met the elf’s gaze and knew Legolas feared the same for him.
Heiken chuckled. "You come to spy on us, then dare to demand things of us? Your blood, if you want to know."
The orcs shrieked in laughed, while the uruk-hai grinned wolfishly, their teeth shining yellow in the bright sunlight. What evil power protected them, that the light bothered them not?
"A human and one of the Firstborn have come amongst our midst. A fortunate catch for us this day," the man purred. "A Firstborn…" he murmured, dark lust in his eyes. "My friends and I have long awaited this moment."
"Let me suffer," Aragorn shouted in alarm, straining against his bonds. "Please, I beg of you-"
"Keep your pleas until the end," the man ordered. "You will need them."
"Aragorn-" Legolas said warningly. Violence he already anticipated.
"Undress him," Heiken said huskily, reaching out to touch the elf’s soft skin. Legolas flinched, and his face drained of color.
Aragorn stared at him in anguish, despising the slow throb of arousal that heated his cheeks as he saw his friend shy back in fear. That such strength should be afraid, such courage daunted by a simple touch…
"Do it!" the man snapped, his control wavering between the desire to take the elf himself or to see his friend despoil him. "Or if you will not, I turn you both over to the orcs, after I have finished." He motioned to the seeming leader of the uruk-hai.
"Wait…I…we will do as you say."
The elf’s head quickly turned to him. "I would rather die," he said clearly. "Slay me, if you wish-I expect no mercy-but my friend-"
"Too easy, elf. There exists no choice here."
-----------------------------------------------
Aragorn closed his eyes, wishing desperately that this were a dream-a terrible dream, surely not of his making.
"Do not make me wait," Heiken counseled coldly.
The king’s eyelids opened. "Legolas," he murmured. "Be still, my friend. It will go easier."
Legolas raised his head, uncertainty and rage, not at Aragorn, but at the horrific circumstances, in his face.
Slowly, Aragorn reached to undo the lacings of the elf’s tunic, gently placing his mouth against Legolas’ compressed lips. Legolas started like a wild creature and the orcs jeered.
"Where now is the courage of the elves? Can you not take a mere kiss?" Heiken laughed.
Surely the elf could feel the heat between them. Aragorn caught his breath. He had enjoyed the feel of Legolas’ defiant mouth beneath his, relished the furious beat of his heart as he pressed his hands to the elf’s chest.
"I cannot do this," Legolas faltered. "’Tis wrong."
"Yes!" Heikan hissed. "That is why you must do this."
The urku-hai leader growled. "Finish what you have begun, little human, or we will do it for you."
Aragorn quickly stepped forward and, curling a hand into the unwilling elf’s tunic, nearly dragged him closer as he kissed him more insistently, not allowing Legolas to escape.
The slight but strong shoulders tensed, although Legolas did not move away. Aragorn rapidly dispensed with the rough fabric of his tunic to reveal the smooth, silky flesh beneath.
Aragorn slipped his tongue into Legolas’ mouth. The elf quivered at his unwelcome touch.
This was not Arwen. There was no gentleness, no delicate contact. It was glorious and freeing.
"On the ground. Now!" Heiken shouted.
Aragorn swept his feet to the elf’s ankles, knowing as he did that whatever happened, the Legolas allowed him.
Legolas fell, and the king followed him down, sucking harshly on his throat, breath coming in short pants. His hands, long called those of a healer, reached down between them to the fastenings of the elf’s leggings.
Instantly Aragorn found a knife from his side at his throat. He stared, breathing heavily at the sight of Legolas’ wide-eyed, betrayed gaze looking at him.
"You want this," the elf said softly, disbelievingly. There was no laughter in him now.
