Comfort
By Eruntalince
Author's Note: It's not just about sex, trust me. Don't worry, I refuse to prescribe to the typical "ignore the love of Strider's life so he can screw the other hot guy in the group" cliche. This is erotica, not smut. This story can fit into either the books or the movies, but I use the movie descriptions, because the image of Orlando Bloom and Viggo Mortenson getting it on is one that we all should treasure. *grin*
Disclaimer: The Lord of the Rings belongs to Tolkien and all those other rich guys who own the movie and the rights now. I'm just borrowing two of the characters for a little while, but they'll be returned unharmed. And with goofy grins on their faces.
WARNING: This story contains graphic depictions of graphic male homosexual sex. Don't like it? Here's a novel idea: Don't read it. Go ahead and flame me. I have a delete button. *smirk* Besides, I could use a good laugh.
Comfort
By Eruntalince
He wanted comfort.
He wanted someone to hold him, to want him, to touch him. He wanted to be wanted.
His name was Aragorn, son of Arathorn, but Men and Hobbits called him Strider, while Elves called him Estel. And he was watching the love of his life glide away back towards her father's house. Arwen had given him her necklace, a symbol of her immortality, as promise that she would bind herself to him, and forsake her immortal life. But her father forbade their marriage unless he was a king, and Strider was no king. He had turned away from that, and chosen exile.
Yes, he would be Strider now. Aragorn was painful at the moment. Estel made his heart bleed.
After Arwen's beautiful form faded his sight, Strider turned and walked towards the warm bathing pool nearby. She had been so close, so near. How he wanted to touch her, and share so much more with her than a chaste kiss. And he wanted her to touch him, to know that she wanted him. To feel her love.
He put the necklace around his own neck, realizing how truly lonely he really was. His whole being ached for love, for comfort, for a release of long-held desire. But Arwen was too noble, and Strider respected and loved her too much to equate her with such feelings. But it did not diminish the ache in his body. The longing for arms wrapped around him and lips pressed to his face. Not just a desire for sex, but a desire to make love.
He reached the ethereal and secluded pool, and to his surprise, found he was not the only one there. A slim, blond Elven form was disrobing, half-turning at the ranger's entrance.
"Hello, Aragorn," he said in his mildly musical voice. It was Legolas, the finest Elven archer Strider had ever met. Memories of saving Legolas' life many years ago, only to be saved in return filled his mind. Strider knew Legolas well enough to know he could trust him with his life, even though they had not seen each other in many years. Legolas was one of the few Elves who never called him Estel, meaning "hope", perhaps because Strider had trusted Legolas with his true name.
The sound of clothes rustling to the ground startled Strider back to the present, only to find Legolas stepping into the pool, completely nude. Elven attitudes never ceased to amaze him. Elves were not ashamed of nudity. They were remarkably open-minded, a trait that Strider had come to love about them.
"You seem troubled, Aragorn," Legolas said seriously, gazing at him steadily with those bright brown eyes.
"I suppose that is because I am, Legolas," Strider sighed. His eyes involuntarily traveled down the gentle curves of Legolas' body, watching the blond beauty wade into the pool. Elves truly were the fairest of all creatures. Until he met Elves, Strider had never met a man he could attribute the word "beautiful" to, and mean it. And yet, ever since he first met him, Strider could attribute no other word but "beautiful" to describe Legolas.
"Does the lady refuse your affections?" Legolas asked gently, his voice ever lilting, cupping water in his hands and pouring it over his slender form. Strider wondered why he was standing at the shore, staring at Legolas bathe like an idiot. Perhaps he had adopted too many of the Elves' open-minded views.
"On the contrary, she returns them just as strongly," Strider frowned, closing his eyes, and finding Arwen behind his lids. It hurt, so he opened them again, once again finding himself riveted to the sight of Legolas bathing.
"I see. Then it is the father who hinders your affections?" Legolas continued to ask, casually, as if they were having tea, and he wasn't naked. And Strider wasn't watching his every move.
"But everything he says, I agree with. She does not deserve to be with Strider, a lowly ranger. And she deserves even less to be with the weak-blooded Aragorn," Strider said bitterly, trying, unsuccessfully, to hide his bitterness and pain.
"You think very little of yourself, Aragorn. It is you, then, who hinders your own relationship. That is a shame, because Lady Arwen does not seem to see you in the same light," Legolas said seriously, meeting Strider's eyes.
"I sometimes wish she did. And yet, she is the antidote to the poison in my heart. For her very presence makes me feel like I'm somebody worthwhile," Strider said mournfully, turning his face from the elf's penetrating gaze.
"You are worthwhile, Aragorn. Do you think I would offer my friendship, do you think any of the Fair Folk would offer their friendship to someone who didn't deserve it? You saved my life once, as I saved yours. If I was a Man of Gondor, I would swear my allegiance to you without hesitation," Legolas said plainly, and the open truth of his words touched Strider.
"I..." Strider fell silent, closing and opening his eyes. He had not expected such an utterance from Legolas' mouth.
Silence fell between them filled only with the sound of water being gently splashed by Legolas. Once again, Strider found himself fascinated by Legolas' beauty. His long, blond hair, and the two braids entwined behind each of his delicately pointed ears. His soft, expressive face, conveying beauty of within and without. His tall, slender body, deceptively strong, and as graceful as a cat. His soft, full lips, and expressive eyes. It was the endless depths of Legolas' eyes that Strider finally rested his own on. The feeling he found from looking into them surprised Strider.
It was comfort.
"It's alright to be Aragorn. He is a good, kind man who is as wise as he is just. He has a weakness, like every other creature in Middle Earth, but unlike many of them, he can admit it. But Aragorn feels his own weaknesses too keenly, and lets them weigh heavy on his heart. He does not see what I see, or what his lady sees in him."
A tear sprung to Strider's eye, but he did not let it fall.
"I see beauty. Sad beauty, but beauty nonetheless. There is little I can offer to comfort you, Aragorn, but what I can give, I will, and freely," Legolas said, his eyebrows drawing up and the sympathy on his face touched Strider deeply.
Aragorn. Maybe he could be Aragorn again tonight. He could just pour his pain out...
"Can you...help me...forget...?" Aragorn asked, not breaking the gaze he held with Legolas' eyes. A flicker of some odd emotion passed behind Legolas' eyes, and then he smiled, softly.
"I can offer you pleasure of the body. I can give you my paltry healing balm for your soul. But your lady is the one who will wipe away your troubles, when you let her. But since you are not ready for your lady's comfort, I shall give you mine, Aragorn. Without hesitation," Legolas said quietly.
Aragorn dropped his eyes, and quickly disrobed. He didn't feel disconnected, just...needy. He waded into the pool, to where Legolas stood, still not having raised his eyes.
Cool, delicate hands rested on both of his shoulders, and Aragorn could feel Legolas' breath close to his face, warming him, as did the pool. He tensed slightly, unused to being touched, to being so close to another creature, elf or otherwise.
Legolas gently rubbed his shoulders. "Have you ever...been with anyone except your lady?" he asked softly, so softly it was almost a whisper.
"I have never touched Arwen. I love her too much. In my youth, I warmed my bed with a woman once or twice, but..." Aragorn shrugged, feeling awkward.
"Humans are so...strange. Only once or twice, and with a gender limit...?" Legolas chuckled in amusement.
"We're not as open-minded as Elves. Comes from living such a short period of time," Aragorn shrugged, smiling slightly. He had been shocked, even intrigued, when he had discovered how sexually adventurous Elves were. Most did not limit themselves to one gender, and would be considered promiscuous by human standards, at least in their youths. He frowned again, wondering who Arwen might have shared her bed with in the past.
Fingers gently pressed against his lips, and Aragorn lifted his head to meet Legolas' eyes again. "You frown. You wonder about your lady. Humans place too much value on virginity, but for what it is worth, your lady is the daughter of Elrond. She is not allowed to consort like the rest of us do. She is unspoiled, a treasure all for you," Legolas said, another odd emotion flicking behind his luminous eyes, but disappearing as quickly as it came.
"Are you reading my mind...?" Aragorn asked, wondering how Legolas knew him so well.
"There is no need to. You wear your heart on your sleeve, as you humans like to say," Legolas shrugged, a graceful, eye-catching movement.
"You wear yours on your face. A lovely face it is, too," Aragorn whispered, braving a touch to Legolas' cheek, brushing the impossibly soft skin. Legolas closed his eyes, looking almost sad. Aragorn went to draw his hand away, but Legolas caught it, and pressed it to his face.
Aragorn said nothing, merely watching the remarkably serene, almost satisfied expression on Legolas' beautiful face. Legolas opened his eyes after a while, smiling softly. He leaned over and pressed his lips to Aragorn's.
Aragorn moved his lips, letting himself be drawn into the kiss, closing his eyes. It was strange, and very different than the chaste kisses he exchanged with Arwen. There was more to this kiss, a sort of hunger that Aragorn never let escape when he was with Arwen. Elf though he was, Legolas was still male, and there was no issue of dominance in this kiss. There was just two beings, kissing with growing passion. A locking of lips, and tangling of tongues, growing in fervor with every passing second.
They pulled back simultaneously, opening their eyes to look into the other's. Legolas smiled. "There is no need to hold back on me, Aragorn. Everything I have to offer is yours for the taking if you so desire," Legolas whispered.
"I desire..." Aragorn whispered, pulling the elf towards him and locking his lips around Legolas' pouring out his pain, and his desire into the kiss. Legolas responded gently, wrapping his arms around Aragorn's shoulders, pressing their bodies against each other.
The need that Legolas' slim body pressed against his own arose in Aragorn surprised him. So many years had passed since he had last been touched, and even then, there was no comfort in those touches. No hungry kisses and arms wrapped around his shoulders. The ranger let his fingers slide down the curve of the elf's back, admiring the silky feel of smooth skin underneath his hands.
Legolas shivered at the touch. "One would think, despite what you say, that you are rather good at this," he whispered, sounding mildly amused. Aragorn wondered why Elves found so many things amusing.
Legolas' cool hands were traveling down his back, lightly touching him, yet inciting thrills with every soft touch. Aragorn moaned, ever so softly, his whole body coming alive to the feathery touches Legolas was placing on him. He bent down slightly to take the elf's waiting mouth, plundering it with his tongue.
Legolas responded to the kiss just as greedily, tugging on Aragorn's waist, drawing him to the shore. Aragorn followed, trailing his hands across the length of Legolas' body, massaging the graceful curves of his backside, devouring Legolas' mouth with enthusiasm.
Legolas broke the kiss, and wriggled free from Aragorn's grip. Aragorn moaned at the loss of the body against his, and reached for the escaping Elf, but Legolas was too quick. The Elf cast a coy look over his shoulder, smiling seductively at Aragorn, before dashing off to his belongings and spreading out his cloak on the ground.
Aragorn grabbed his own cloak and threw it on top of Legolas' cloak, before circling his arms around the Elf's slender waist from behind, pressing Legolas' naked backside against his own nudity. He trailed his lips down the delicate Elven neck, his hands massaging Legolas' beautiful chest.
"So beautiful..." Aragorn murmured into Legolas' ear, gently flicking out his tongue to lick the dramatic point of the Elf's ear.
Legolas gasped, squirming in his grip. Aragorn pulled back, looking concerned.
"Did I hurt you...?" he asked.
"No... it's very sensitive... did you know it was erogenous zone?" Legolas gasped, fully aroused now. Aragorn blinked and smiled.
"I do now," he shrugged, pulling Legolas down to the cloaks they had laid out, licking the Elf's ear the whole way. Legolas moaned, arching slightly against Aragorn's chest.
"Interesting," Aragorn chuckled, filing away this new information he had discovered about Elves. Legolas abruptly pulled away, lying down and pulling Aragorn on top of him.
"You're cheating," Legolas whispered, running his lips over the soft stubble on Aragorn's chin. Elves didn't grow facial hair, and apparently, Legolas found it fascinating.
"Cheating...?" Aragorn asked with an arched eyebrow, adjusting their positions so he was more comfortable lying on top of the slender Elven form.
Legolas lifted a hand and wound it through Aragorn's shaggy black hair, picking out the flecks of gray with curiosity. "Why is your hair two different colors?" he asked, closing his eyes as Aragorn kissed his throat.
"The gray is what happens when humans get older. I seem to have gotten mine a little earlier than normal. Must be all that consorting with Elves," Aragorn chuckled, amazed that an Elf that had a few millennia under his belt could be so innocent.
Legolas looked confused. "I know of no Elven spells to change hair color..." he said seriously. Aragorn laughed outright, pausing his ministrations.
"It was a jest, Legolas," Aragorn chuckled, kissing the Elf on his full lips.
"Oh," Legolas shrugged, kissing back.
They fell silent, their lips busy with the other's. Aragorn rolled to his side, taking Legolas with him, so they could rest at the same level. Legolas wrapped a leg around Aragorn's in response, his hands sliding across Aragorn's buttocks, cupping the swell of the human's backside.
"It is odd," Legolas said when Aragorn broke their kiss so he could trail his lips Legolas' shoulder.
"What is odd?" Aragorn asked, tensing.
"The feel of the hair on your face against my skin," the Elf said lightly, both hands now massaging Aragorn's backside.
"Unpleasant...?" Aragorn asked, frowning and pulling away to looking Legolas' warm brown eyes.
"No. Just odd. I like it. Never felt anything like that before," Legolas smiled, kissing Aragorn's chin, his tongue deftly flicking against the cleft on it.
Aragorn relaxed, smiling and dipping his head to kiss Legolas' naked chest, amazed by the smooth perfection of his sculpted muscles. It seemed Legolas was like a living work of art. He found a brown nipple, and exploited it with his tongue, listening to the Elf moan above him.
Aragorn moved to the other side, gently sucking at the small fleshy nub, his arms wrapped around Legolas, pressing the Elf to him tightly. Legolas squirmed, grabbing Aragorn by the shoulders and pulling him up. Aragorn blinked in surprise.
"I thought...I was supposed to offer you comfort...?" Legolas asked, his face almost saturnine with desire. Aragorn could feel the Elf's arousal, pressed against his hip.
"You are. I like listening to you moan. You do it so prettily," Aragorn chuckled, and kissed the Elf fondly.
Legolas reached over to his discarded belongings, pulling out a small glass vial of honey-colored liquid. "There are better ways to make me moan, Aragorn. And I get the satisfaction of making you moan in return," the blond beauty smiled seductively, sitting up and bringing Aragorn to a sitting position as well.
Aragorn refused to let their lips part for long. Legolas' lips were too sweet. The elf unscrewed the glass vial, and poured some of the oil onto his fingers. It smelled of honeysuckle. And then Aragorn found himself lost in a torrent of pleasure as Legolas' hands fell on him. The blond archer was skilled, his hands gently coaxing the ranger to full arousal, working the oil into the sensitive flesh.
"Gods, Legolas..." Aragorn groaned, his whole body no longer merely aching for passion, but throbbing for it. Legolas smiled softly at him, pressing the vial into Aragorn's trembling hand when he was done. Aragorn stared at the vial in thought while Legolas ran oil-slick hands down his chest.
Legolas kissed the sensitive spot where throat met collarbone. "Do you know what to do...?" he asked gently, and without judgment.
"I believe so..." Aragorn said, pouring some of the scented oil onto his own fingers, closing his eyes at the soft kisses Legolas was placing on his face and throat. He pressed his fingers at Legolas' entrance, undemanding.
Legolas pressed back against Aragorn's fingers. "I'm not going to break, Aragorn," he whispered.
Aragorn let a finger slide inside the Elf, coating the tight entrance with the scented oil. "Forgive me. I forget that Elves are stronger than they look," Aragorn said, his other arm pressing Legolas to him. Legolas moaned softly in appreciation.
"Do we look that fragile to humans?" Legolas asked, resting his head on Aragorn's shoulder as the second finger slid inside him.
"I'm afraid so," Aragorn whispered, sliding his fingers upwards, exploring inside his Elven lover. Legolas moaned and nearly jumped from his skin when Aragorn hit a sensitive spot inside of him.
"Did I hurt you...?" Aragorn asked, pausing his movements.
"No, no...it's very sensitive...there...a sweet spot, if you will. I believe Elves and Men share this erogenous area, though," Legolas whispered, kissing the side of Aragorn's neck.
"I see," Aragorn said, brushing his fingers against the spot again, taking note of its placement. Legolas moaned again, pressing his body tightly to Aragorn's.
"I want you...inside me, Aragorn," Legolas purred, sliding a hand to meet Aragorn's throbbing erection, gripping it tightly in his hand.
"Then inside you, I shall be, Legolas," the ranger rumbled, laying the Elven beauty out underneath him, admiring once again the curves and form of the blond.
Legolas wrapped his legs around Aragorn's waist, coaxing the dark-haired Man closer. Aragorn braced his hands around Legolas' slim waist, staring down at the warm brown eyes. He focused on Legolas' shining face as he pressed himself against the tight opening. The Elf seemed to want it as badly as he did, staring at him in desire.
Aragorn slid inside the lubricated entrance, crying out as he did so. Long had it been since he'd immersed himself in another, and never one so hot and tight around his throbbing member. Legolas moaned loudly, his arms reaching up to grip Aragorn's shoulders. Aragorn leaned down, rubbing his flat stomach against Legolas' own straining erection, so their lips could meet once again.
Bliss. Such a convenient way to forget about pain, and self-loathing, if even for a short while. Aragorn thrust into the Elf, moaning into the mouth of his lover, feeling Legolas' grip on his buttocks, urging him to go faster and drive deeper. Their cries of pleasure were exchanged in their kiss, muffled by the other's lips. Aragorn drove into Legolas, and Legolas rode against him, begging for more. Heat spread across Aragorn like wildfire, and the ecstasy Legolas was giving him seared though his mind like a fire brand.
And then he felt molten lava in his veins, and his body quivered. With a great shout, and hard thrust, Aragorn came inside Legolas, followed only a second later by the Elf, who cried out in his own language. It was blinding, encompassing, and Aragorn nearly forgot where he was, and why he was there when he spun into the starry night sky for just a moment. And then he came crashing back to earth, and slumped over Legolas' heaving body, muttering to himself.
"That was as beautiful as you are, my dear Legolas," Aragorn whispered, adjusting their bodies once again so he could hold Legolas to him in comfort.
"And every bit as sweet as you are, my dear Aragorn," Legolas whispered back, kissing Aragorn weakly, his energy spent.
"I thank you for your comfort," Aragorn sighed, closing his eyes, so spent that all he wished to do was sleep. He felt wanted, comforted, and cared for. He had wanted to be wanted, to held, and to be touched. And he had gotten his desire, from an unexpected source.
Legolas stayed awake long after Aragorn had fallen asleep in his arms, long dark eyelashes resting against his chiseled face. He kissed his sleeping lover, admiring the way shadows and moonlight played against the rough handsomeness of Isildur's Heir. Aragorn's beauty was not the smooth, ethereal beauty of the Elves, but the intense, yet noble handsomeness of the wild. Legolas let the image of Aragorn sleeping in his arms burn into his mind, an image he could treasure forever.
"I love you, Aragorn, son of Arathorn," Legolas whispered softly. He took out a knife from his belongings and cut a single lock from Aragorn's hair, tucking it away inside his clothes.
"I think I love you far too deeply for my own good," Legolas said softly when he was done, and rested his head on Aragorn's shoulder, a single tear slipping down his cheek.
Aragorn slept, dreaming well, and feeling inexplicably loved.
They were leaving.
Arwen waited at the bottom of the steps, waiting for Legolas Greenleaf, Prince of the Mirkwood, and son of King Thranduil to come down. The day before, the Council had met, and the Fellowship of the Ring had been formed. Her love, Aragorn, was leaving as well, but she had already bid him farewell.
"Lady Arwen..." Legolas said in surprise when he saw her at the foot of the steps. Her long dark hair trailed down to her waist, and her deep blue eyes rested on him, as if she could look into his soul. Legolas looked away.
"I came to bid you farewell, Legolas, son of Thranduil," she said in her musical voice, a soft smile spreading across her generous lips.
Legolas swallowed. He had little to do with her, so her sudden appearance just to bid him good-bye could only mean one thing. He felt guilty, and yet, he would not have traded his night with Aragorn for anything in the world.
"It is good that you love him as deeply as I do. He needs love. He has not had it often in his life," Arwen said gently. Legolas raised his head and sharply met her eyes. She knew, but it did not bother her.
"I cannot give him the comfort he desires, for many reasons, not the least of which is his own doubts. You will comfort him when he needs it on your quest, won't you?"
Legolas nodded, finding his voice had been lost. The beautiful Elf woman placed a delicate hand on his shoulder. "For what it is worth to you, Legolas, Aragorn loves you as well, in a different and far more subtle way. We are alike, you and I, for loving a great man, who does not believe he is great at all," she said, and kissed Legolas on the cheek. She swept off, only the sound of her silken robes rustling remained, until that too faded away in the distance.
Legolas closed his eyes, forcing himself not to cry. When he reopened them, it was as if Lady Arwen was never there. But her words eased the ache in his own heart. His nimble fingers reached inside his pocket and fondled the braid he had made of the lock of Aragorn's hair. His face took on a distant, dreamy look.
And then Legolas left the Last Homely House, to join the man he loved, and the others of his Fellowship, on the quest to destroy the One Ring.