The Love Of Elves
Part 6

Posted: September 2003
Author: Ellon Melethril, a.k.a. Lemur and Maeve

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~Three is Company~

Legolas's words still hung in the air, seemingly loud and echoing even over the pounding of the waterfall. Worthy? Aragorn mused. Somehow, he found it difficult to concede such a thing, as his gaze wandered from one Elf to the other. Somewhere in the depths of his mind he was beginning to understand their actions, the gift they were attempting to offer, and this growing understanding only served to heighten his doubts.

There lay his Lady Arwen, her ebony locks framing a face of such divine beauty she left him as speechless as the moment he had first laid eyes upon her. Her immortality had been relinquished, and yet Aragorn was convinced her beauty would not lessen in time. Now, she watched him with eyes more flawless than precious jewels, her skin radiating in tune with the luminescence of the stars above. Her hair was like the night sky, spilling against a full moon.

The mist had moistened her diaphanous gown, causing it to cling to her body, revealing every splendid curve. He knew these curves, this body, this face so well...and yet Aragorn found himself mesmerized at the sight.

He felt as though a veil had been lifted from his eyes, and his heart suddenly ached at this newfound vision. How could a being of such magnificent beauty ever find him deserving? How could she even conceive that he would be worthy of her, of this gift she was offering?

And there, a hairsbreadth away from his own face was Legolas, his friend, his fellow warrior. Offering himself now as...a lover?

He had never looked upon Legolas in this fashion, had never thought to. It was irrelevant, unbecoming brothers-in-arms and fellow warriors. But he was not blind – indeed, he was a Ranger with better eyesight than most and it did not escape his augmented attentions that Legolas was striking, beyond the margins of both men and women. He was simply...Elven.

His eyebrows curved as perfectly as his archer's bow, accenting those keen blue eyes that had been of great service during many Orc-hunts. His skin was smooth, unmarred by time or scarring and glowing with the same faint inner luminescence that awoke in Arwen's flesh when she ventured into the lands of the Firstborn. His square jaw and broad shoulders, however, declared his gender in strong defiance of his delicate mouth and soft golden hair, spilling down his shoulders, pulled back and braided just enough to reveal his upswept ears.

He was a creature of beauty...as was his Lady Arwen. Aragorn knew that her love for him was true and infinite, and yet suddenly he felt himself small and unworthy of such affections. Certainly, he thought, he did not merit the love of two Elves.

"No..." he whispered, placing a hand upon Legolas's shoulder. He held him an arm's length away, but could not bring himself to actually push the Elf away. "I am just a Man..."

A warm smile curved Legolas's lips as he reached for Aragorn's hand, removing it from his shoulder and bringing it up to his lips. The Man did not resist this time, not even as Legolas brought his face closer.

"Ere' i'-astald fiù vanya," he whispered.

"Only the brave deserve the Fair," Arwen said, as her delicate hand reached up to stroke against his cheek.

Aragorn's eyes half-closed as the debate continued in his heart, but the option to protest was denied to him as Legolas moved closer still, until his lips, warm and wet from the watery vapor filling the air, came into searing contact with his own.

Kissing Arwen was nothing like this; her lips were just as sweet, but she kissed tenderly, lovingly. This was different, passionate, strength against strength as those lips claimed his own in a scorching kiss, leaving a pleasing taste on his tongue that reminded him of fresh leaves. For a moment, Aragorn completely forgot why he had been opposed to this, as intense desire kindled from the Elf's touch.

A rush of heat surged to his groin, even as another one spread to his face. He raised a hesitant, tentative hand to stroke the Elf's face, his fingers meeting fine golden hair and an upswept ear tip.

With a small moan, Legolas ended the kiss and edged his body closer until they were intimately pressed together. A distinct hardness pressed against Aragorn's groin; to his utter surprise, he realized the Elf was as aroused as he was.

Legolas's hands slid up the supple leather of his red-trimmed duster, pulling it down from his shoulders. The instinct to stop him, to hold the Elf's hands and still his movements, to remind him that he could not accept such affections, very nearly took over. But, he resigned himself to allow Legolas free reign, pulling his own arms free of the black duster, and settling his hands on the archer's muscled thighs, realizing with no little uneasiness he had never yet laid hands upon his friend in such an intimate fashion.

His eyes followed Legolas's fingers as he began to unfasten the ties of his jerkin with teasing, deliberate slowness. Despite himself, a small groan of frustration at Legolas's languor escaped the Man's lips, causing the duo of Elves to smile in unison. Arwen shifted closer still and her slender fingers helped to unbutton the remainder of the small red ties.

"Do my ears deceive me, or is the King beginning to find this rather pleasant?" Arwen said in mock seriousness, her eyes raised to Legolas's.

"Your...methods of persuasion do not leave much to free will," Aragorn said. His attempt at humour was met with a smile from Legolas.

"His lips do not lie, my Lady," the blond Elf said, strong hands pulling the unfastened tunic from Aragorn's shoulders. "Nor the rest of him..." The Man gasped as his heated body came into contact with the mist-filled air, the tiny water droplets moistening his already sweat-dampened skin.

Deep cobalt eyes swept over his exposed torso, before deft fingers found their way up his chest, feathering the fine dark hair there until they rolled over the tender tips of his nipples with such exquisite pressure Aragorn could not contain a moan.

He inhaled sharply as Legolas dipped his head down to place long, slow kisses against his chest, skilled tongue darting out to trace the curve of his collarbone, until it lowered and flicked against a sensitive nipple.

Aragorn shuddered at the sensation, one of such intimacy he was not certain he wanted to associate it with his long-time friend. He did want this — and he could certainly not deny that his body was not opposed to the anticipated release - wanted to bring himself to accept this precious gift, and yet despite himself, a tiny fragment of his mind still fought to convince him to bring this entire act to an end. "Legolas, no..." he murmured, though his words sounded unconvincing even to his own ears.

Legolas stilled his movements and lifted his head. His lips were swollen and gleaming with moisture, and it was with great effort that Aragorn managed to keep his eyes on the arousing portrait. "If you truly desire us to stop, Aragorn, we will adhere to your wish."

A long, pent-up breath slid past Aragorn's lips and he was suddenly aware how fiercely his heart had been beating, pounding dully in his ears and with double intensity somewhere lower on his body. He suddenly found himself thankful for the mist coating his face and chest, for it most likely hid the perspiration gleaming on his skin induced by passion and, though he was loath to admit it, anxiety as well.

For the second time that night, he found his gaze shifting from one Elf to the other. Sky-coloured eyes regarded him with obvious compassion and understanding, and shone deeply with love. Truly, they were beautiful creatures...no, `beautiful' was a woefully inadequate word. It would seem, Aragorn decided, that the Common Tongue held no proper word to describe the beauty of Elves.

Nor were there proper words to describe what he felt for these two Elves, his dearest lover and his closest friend. Desire — yes, desire for his friend - friendship...love...so much his heart could never dream to place into words. He could not, would not push them away.

"No..." he breathed. "No, I do not wish to stop."

With a smile upon his lips Legolas dipped his head down again, teeth delicately grazing against the skin of Aragorn's throat as his hands traveled lower over the Ranger's bare tanned skin, making him tremble with heated shivers, stopping at the waistband of his breeches.

"The strengthened body of a Ranger," Legolas commented softly, his fingers trailing over the hard plane of his stomach. "I have often wondered how it would feel under my touch..."

Aragorn inhaled sharply as one hand warmly cupped the conspicuous bulge beneath the dark material, stroking it twice, while he hooked his other arm around the bare skin of the Man's back. With a skill Aragorn envied, Legolas quickly unlaced the red leather ties of his breeches, and another inward sigh surged within his lips as his burning arousal was released into the cool night air.

Soft fingers curled around the hard column of flesh and began to stroke in long, slow caresses that enveloped his entire length, at such an agonizing pace that Aragorn's hips jerked, seeking a faster pace, the movement beyond any conscious control.

Legolas's hand stilled, and his fingertips gently rubbed against the slick head with breathtaking friction, spreading the clear fluid already spilled, before releasing him completely.

Aragorn's eyelids trembled and then closed tightly as the Elf placed a single, tender kiss on the tip of his enflamed member. A soft tongue darted out, hotly circling the weeping head, before he was completely swallowed, and it was with great effort that he resisted
the urge to groan in a most unkingly manner and press his hips more intently to the source of his pleasure. The heated tongue dipped and swirled all around him, while Legolas's smooth hands stroked against his thighs.

Aragorn's lips parted and he began to pant, his heartbeat pounding desperately in his ears. He was barely aware of Arwen's hand upon his face as she brushed away the strands of hair clinging wetly to his forehead.

Skilled elven lips ignited a flame of passion within his member. If possible, it swelled to even fuller arousal within Legolas's mouth as the Elf first swallowed him whole, then lifted his head to caress the very tip of him with his tongue, before taking him deeply again. His flaxen hair spilled to either side of his head as he pleasured the Man, framing the most beautiful sight Aragorn could ever recall witnessing.

He reached down to slip his fingers within the silken hair, finding a tiny braid and twirling it within his fingers as Legolas continued to work his erotic magic upon him. Another low moan suddenly surged from his throat, but the sound was swallowed as his lady Arwen captured his lips in her own, her hand sliding up against his chest.

He noticed her taste more clearly now; it was the scent of the mountain and streams, the lovely and distinct scent carried by the wind he remembered so clearly from his many travels.

Legolas's hands tightly held onto his hips as his pace slowed to a leisurely rhythm; Aragorn's own hands trailed down to gently slide over the Elf's arms. As he brought his hands back up, his thumb brushed against an unexpectedly sensitive inner wrist, causing Legolas to gasp breathily and release Aragorn's arousal for a moment. A throb of protest from his straining member vividly reminded him that he had yet to be sated, but he was all too willing to hold out and explore this newfound pleasure.

Aragorn drew in a breath and, for the first time in what felt like ages, a soft chuckle escaped his lips as he repeated the gesture against the Elf's inner arm, noting with no little amusement the flush that spread to his friend's cheek. This was, he thought, a most intriguing secret of Legolas's.

"In all the years you have bested my blade with your Elf-knives, to defeat you all I would have had to do was this?" Aragorn said, unable to keep the smile from his lips. He punctuated his words by grazing the tender skin with his fingertips, making the Elf's eyes
widen in obvious pleasure.

"You give me little credit," Legolas said, his voice husky with passion. "Such a tactic would never work during combat, even if it were a simple friendly spar..."

His voice trailed off as Aragorn gently stroked his wrist again, making his eyes flutter weakly for a second. "Well, it would not always work..." he amended.

The Man brought the wrist to his lips, giving it a single, slow lick, watching his friend's reaction with a sly smile. Legolas's eyes fluttered again, and he smiled in defeat. "Though perhaps, often it would."

A dainty smirk crossed Arwen's lips, as she pulled away from Aragorn and settled on the mossy grass next to the two, legs stretching out from under her pale dress. "So you became an archer as its accoutrements allow you to protect your one weakness?" she teased.

"I believe you both to be sorely underestimating my — ai, Aragorn!"

The Elf's further attempts at speech were immediately hindered as Aragorn's mouth locked on to the smooth pale wrist, swiping his tongue out at it. He gently sucked and nibbled at the skin, his actions growing more fervent after each groan and whimper, determined as he was to not only return the pleasure to the lovely archer, but to hear those sweet melodic sounds of pleasure rise to a frantic pitch. Taking advantage of his friend's obvious distraction, Aragorn pushed the Elf into a reclining position, taking care not to lose his hold on the sensitive wrist.

"Please, Aragorn..." he whispered through rickety breath, even as he attempted to dislodge his arm from the Man's grasp. "This night is meant for you, I - aiya!"

Once Legolas was squirming and panting to Aragorn's satisfaction, the Man quickly reached for the front ties of the green tunic, very nearly tearing the delicate fasteners as he pulled the wet clothing from his friend's body, revealing the supple chest.

If Legolas was to be admired while clothed, it was nothing compared to the Elf's nude beauty. He was slender and leanly built, like all Elves; steel-like muscles hidden under silken skin, which sparkled from the tiny droplets of water. Small, dark pink nipples stood out against the pastel skin, nearly obscured by the flaxen hair clinging to the moisture on his chest.

Dimly he became aware that Legolas was smiling at his hindered urgency. The Man heard the rustle of material as the jerkin was tossed aside, and nimble fingers reached down to aid in his clumsy efforts to unlace the gray-hued breeches. Soon the leather knots
were undone and, stretching out onto his back, the Elf watched as Aragorn pulled them down with equal fervency.

*****

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