Feb. 24, 3019 in the Third Age of Middle Earth
Aragorn bent over, examining the ground for tracks. Legolas stood behind him, leaning lightly on his bow. They were looking for traces of a path that would lead to the portage way around the rapids of Sarn Gebir.
"You know it's quite distracting when you bend over like that," Legolas said, with a smile.
"Then, don't stand behind me, Elf," Aragorn growled. He straightened up. "Let's try climbing this ridge. I'll wager we'll see the trail from up there."
They threaded their way through a maze of limestone boulders and clumps of thick bushes. The land was silent, except for the occasional harsh croak of a raven. Their footsteps, even soundless as an elf and a ranger could make them, still crunched loudly in Legolas's ears. The elf turned his head this way and that, scrying for danger. He sensed small pinpricks of warning, but they were still far distant.
Much stronger he sensed Aragorn's fear and doubt. He longed to reach out to him, take him in his arms. But Aragorn seemed determined to keep to himself. After those glorious two days of lovemaking in the hidden talan of Vilyamar in Lothlórien, Aragorn had not once touched him. Legolas knew Aragorn did not wish to reveal their relationship to the rest of the Fellowship. That, as well as the tension within the group, troubled Legolas. But he had decided his role was to follow Aragorn's lead, unquestioningly. He took on that role when he had pledged to become ohtarnil to Aragorn at Vilyamar.
An ohtarnil was a warrior bound to another by an oath of love. Legolas wondered when the elves first had developed this tradition? Love and war were such opposite concepts. During a war, the opportunities for lovemaking were scant, as all energy seemed focused on preventing death, or dealing it out. But perhaps the elves of the Elder Days were wise after all, seasoned from the war with Morgoth, of whom the dark lord Sauron was but a servant. Perhaps, in the midst of brutality, one needed a respite, a tender touch, the knowledge that there were things worth fighting and dying for.
What he wouldn't give for days of peace, where he could linger under the trees, stroking Estel, taking time to leisurely make love to him! Ironically, Legolas knew, if days of peace came to pass, he would lose Aragorn to another. The expression of his love was only possible while all the world lay in deadly peril; and while they were in peril, he could not express his love. He sighed heavily.
Aragorn stopped and looked back at him. "What's wrong, Legolas?" he asked.
"Nothing. Why do you ask?"
"I heard you sigh."
"You hear naught but the wind's fleeting lament, my captain," Legolas said, coming close to him. Aragorn brushed the back of his hand gently along Legolas's cheek, a look of infinite tenderness in his eyes. The elf felt his heart sing at his touch. Was that all he could hope for? An occasional gentle touch, when no one was looking? Aragorn turned and continued up the slope.
They struggled through a small thicket, finally freeing themselves from the clinging branches, and bursting onto the ridge top.
Legolas shaded his eyes, scanning the landscape for evidence of the path. On their left he could see the great Anduin river, with white spots revealing the turbulence of the Sarn Gebir rapids. On the right the land widened to a flat, boulder-strewn wilderness. Not much cover here, Legolas thought. We shouldn't stay too long in this exposed spot. Then his sharp eyes caught something.
"There!" the elven prince exclaimed. "Look, Aragorn." Far below, roughly following the line of the river, they could see a thin line devoid of trees.
"I see it now," Aragorn said. "How lucky! We've only this ridge to climb. It's not far from where the boats are at all. Let's find the best way down to it."
He seemed lighter, as if he could relax briefly, now that this small hurdle had been surmounted. They both began rapidly descending the ridge down to the path.
"Yes, but I still expect it'll be difficult carrying the boats up here," said the elf, taking short, rapid steps down the steep slope. "We've some hours hard work ahead of us."
They reached the path. It was fairly wide and well-worn. A good track.
"We can follow this back and see where the shortest route to our boats lies," Legolas said.
"My thought exactly," replied Aragorn. He strode down the path. Legolas trailed behind him. "I heard that remark, by the way, about how distracting my backside was." Aragorn turned to look at him. "Therefore, you had better lead." He threw his head back, a teasing light in his eye.
Legolas stopped and slowly smiled. "Why? Are you better able to handle the distraction *my* rear would provide?"
"If you think your rear is so comely that it would cause me to think unseemly thoughts, then . . . you are right." Aragorn laughed. He looked into the elf's azure eyes for a long minute.
"Estel," Legolas said, "I confess that these last two fortnights, constantly in your presence, and no opportunity to sate my hunger for you, has been a strange kind of torture. But I will obey your will in these matters." Legolas strode forward but Aragorn laid a hand on his arm.
"Indeed," Aragorn said softly, "you think I haven't felt it. I hunger for you every second of every day." Suddenly he swept the elf into his arms and kissed him passionately. Initially surprised, Legolas returned the kiss, opening his mouth to Aragorn's rough lips. The elf felt his blood heat up, and a quickening in his loins, as Aragorn began kissing his face, frantically, then returning to his mouth.
"Ohtarnil, my love," Aragorn whispered. "We have the briefest of respites right now. I know not what will come tomorrow; I fear grief and doom. I would have the warriors' comfort that you spoke of when we made our pledge to each other at Vilyamar." They both sank to their knees in a deep drift of dead leaves by the side of the path.
"Right here, my captain?" Legolas asked.
"Are we in danger? What do your elvish senses tell you?" Aragorn asked, looking around.
"That, for the present, we are in no danger from orcs. But you are in danger of being ravished by an elf!" Legolas pulled Aragorn's pack off his back, then pushed him to the ground and sat on him. He pulled off his bow, quiver, and pack and tossed them to the side. Then he bent and kissed Aragorn tenderly, the kiss deepening, as they gave in to their desire. The elf rocked his hips into the man's groin. The ranger moaned and reached up to pull Legolas closer.
"We don't have time to do this properly," whispered the elf. "But it will still feel good." He rolled off Aragorn and then pulled aside the two flaps of the ranger's leather jerkin and untied the laces on his breeches. He reached around the rough linen of the loincloth and located the man's stiffening cock, which he pulled free from the material. He stroked it gently to its full length, then engulfed it in his mouth, and began moving up and down. Aragorn's large erection pressed on the back of his throat. He curled his tongue lovingly around it.
"Oh, gods, I've missed your sweet mouth," Aragorn groaned. "But stop, for a moment." He grabbed Legolas's legs and pulled him around so that his hips were at Aragorn's head. "I want to give you the same pleasure." The ranger also pushed past the layers of clothes to withdraw the elf's member. Then he put his hands behind Legolas's rear and drew him close so that he could take him into his mouth. Legolas emitted a low cry when he felt the wet heat closing around him.
They lay on their sides, occupied with giving pleasure. Aragorn pumped his hips, pushing himself rhythmically into Legolas's mouth. The elf took him in deeply, sucking and tonguing the ranger's throbbing organ, and gently caressing his balls. Finally close to release, Aragorn let Legolas slip out of his mouth, the elf's erection grazing his cheek. He thrust harder and then gave a deep, guttural moan, as his seed surged into the elf's throat. Legolas swallowed several times, and then licked the ranger's softening organ gently. Aragorn shuddered, and closing his hand around the elf's rock-hard member, he lay quiet a moment.
"By the Valar, you do that so well," the ranger sighed. "I have missed that. Now it's your turn." He claimed Legolas once again, moving his mouth hard and fast, while Legolas writhed and thrashed in the dry leaves until he, too, culminated with a breathy cry. His heart pounded as a wave of pleasure pulsed through his body.
They lay still for a time, then both fumbled at their pants, putting their clothes back in order. Legolas laid his head on Aragorn's stomach with a sigh, feeling relaxed and content for the first time in weeks. He looked up at the trees soaring high above, seeming to lean in toward each other, their bare branches interlaced with patches of blue sky. This sheltered place, facing south, was a little warmer than the stark hills up above. He could smell the sap running, see the tiny buds of green leaves breaking free of their winter prison.
"Aragorn," he exclaimed, "spring is coming!"
"Yes, but to what hope, I do not know," Aragorn said. He reached down and threaded his fingers in Legolas's silky hair. "Thank you, meleth nín, for that brief moment of pleasure. You don't know how I treasure these moments. They are my solace when we are traveling. As I steer my boat, I look back, catch a glimpse of your face, and I remember our two passionate nights in Lothlórien. It eases my soul."
"I *do* know," Legolas replied. "As I do the same. I draw on the library of my life's experience and relive them in my head as we go. It is almost as good as actual experience. But not quite." He reached up and stroked Aragorn's face. Aragorn caught his hand and kissed the palm.
"We'd best go back and get started on the portage. Gods, I curse every step that takes me closer to Mordor," Aragorn said.
Legolas sat up and turned to look at the ranger still lying in the dry leaves. "Don't let it trouble you right now," Legolas said. "You don't know what tomorrow may bring. Let the Valar guide your path. But for now, perhaps I can tell you a story as we walk that may divert you, maybe even more than the sight of my arse." Legolas grinned.
"All right," Aragorn agreed and got to his feet. "Come friend," he held a hand out to Legolas and helped him up. "What is the story about?"
"Passion, greed, dragons, the folly of men. All the good things," grinned Legolas. "Our river trip has brought it to mind. It was 73 years ago. Five years after the fall of the dragon, Smaug, and in the summer when I first met my lover, Elwin."
Aragorn draped his arm over the elf's shoulders and Legolas slipped his arm about the ranger's waist, as they walked up the portage trail back to the rest of the Fellowship.
"I'm listening," Aragorn said.