Mael-Gûl: 47. Of Friends And Foes

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47. Of Friends And Foes

Authors note:
Completely A.U. Legolas slave fic. This story was inspired by Bluegolds story "Bound", which can be found here: http://daemel.freespaces.com/authors.html#blue
I use similar plot ideas here with her permission.

Betareader: many thanks to the wonderful and encouraging Namarie! Thank you!!! All still remaining errors are solely my own.

Warning: Slash, m/m, BDSM, torture, toys, d/s, *very* graphic descriptions; abuse both physical and sexual. Non-con and debatable consent. special warning for this chapter: none. Please heed the warnings!

Disclaimer: Universe and characters are not mine, but Tolkien's. The idea of the spell, however, belongs to me. In this chapter, I lift entire passages and quote extensively from Tolkien's book, again, and stay very close to Tolkien's lines. Proper references to the quoted passages are given in the footnotes. Please bear with me!

Guide: occasionally, I work with flashback scenes. Here is a Guide:
// /flashback/ //; ************Time change within a flashback***********; "speech"; 'thoughts'

For all other warnings, other disclaimers and author's notes see Story Intro.


_________________________



XXXXV. Of Friends And Foes


To Legolas' dismay, the company did not take the path he had scouted out earlier that day, but instead went down the other turn, leading them away from the beam of light and deeper into the fathomless darkness of the caverns. He watched the light dwindle behind him, replaced only by the glow of Gandalf's staff, and had to suppress a sigh. Even so, his brief foray into the reminder of the outside world and the reassuring brightness of the sun had done much to lessen the impact of the encroaching darkness of the caves and lift his spirits. Somehow, the fathomless depths of the mines and the absence of daylight and of the Song were easier to endure now, although he still could feel the powerful evil lurking somewhere in the dark.

But none of their steps on this journey had been without danger; and so he merely stayed alert while he followed Gandalf on the path, up the steps cut into the very stone, through the mines, looking at his surroundings in wonder.

He walked at the head of the line, directly after the wizard. When he had returned from his short scouting trip, in the morning, he had picked up immediately on the tension between his master and Boromir, and guessed that Boromir had made good on his promise the previous night to confront Aragorn about him. Not wanting to deepen the rift, he had reported his findings as briefly as he could, had packed up his belongings and accepted some food from Master Samwise, and had then done his best to stay as far away from both Edain as he could. When the fellowship started on their way again he had chosen a place at the front, since the two Edain walked at the rear. Unfortunately, that placed him in close proximity of the Dwarf. But so far, the Stunted One had left him alone. Legolas was grateful for it.

So, he nearly jumped when suddenly a gruff voice beside him addressed him:

"Master Elf, a word!"

Startled, Legolas looked down at the speaker. Ever since that confrontation a few days ago, he had done his best to stay out of the Stunted One's way – save that short exchange directly before the doors of Moria. He had felt Gimli's eyes on him, several times, but done his best to ignore it. He had hoped the Nogoth had learned his lesson and decided to leave him alone.

Apparently, though, Gimli had other ideas.

Swallowing his unease, Legolas answered politely: "What is it, Master Dwarf?"

Gimli cleared his throat.

"You are a skilled warrior, Master Elf," he began. "That last night on the hill, your bow was a great asset for us to keep the Wargs at bay so they did not overwhelm us by sheer numbers. And that beast in the water was thrown back by the arrow you sent in his eye."

He harrumped again. Then he added formally:

"I might have been wrong when I doubted your value for our company."

He bowed.

Legolas was stunned. For a moment, he did not know quite how to reply; he could only guess what it must have cost the Stunted One to say that much; and it was very likely as much of an apology as he would get. He fought down any arrogance and bowed back.

"Your axe has been of great value for us, too, during that fight," he answered politely, "and in the end, it was Gandalf's fire that kept the Wargs from overwhelming us. But I thank you, Master Dwarf, and I admit that I was wrong to doubt your value for our company, as well."

Gimli straightened, and for a moment, his face hardened; but then, the moment passed and he shrugged. He cocked his head.

"Fair enough," he said. "There is no love between our people, and I deem you would have preferred other company than mine, as well. Still, I am glad to know your bow is with us."

Legolas nodded and gave him a small bow. "And your axe," he added.

The Dwarf nodded, obviously satisfied, and started to walk again. Legolas followed suit.

"Pray, tell me," Gimli began, "you seem at unease underground. I am aware that you and your folk may be more at home in your woods, but I thought your people lived within a cave, too?"

Legolas hesitated. After a moment, he replied guardedly:

"It has been long since I lived in my father's halls, Master Dwarf. But in any case they are nothing like these mines. They are not as vast and dark, and not as empty."

Gimli harrumped. He walked silently for a few moments; then, he finally replied: "These mines have not always been dark and empty, Master Elf. This is a part of the great realm and the city of the Dwarrowdelf, and of old it was not darksome, but full of light and splendour, as is still remembered in our songs."(1)

And he began to chant in a deep voice: "The world was young, the mountains green, No stain yet on the moon was seen..."

Legolas listened in wonder. The Dwarf had actually a good singing voice. He had never heard this song, nor had the Hobbits, who came closer to listen intently. But after only a few verses, the wizard intervened.

"As respectable as the memory of your people is, Gimli, son of Gloin," he chided, "I would suggest that you sing that song at another time. We cannot afford to draw the attention to ourselves of what- or whomever might be listening."

Reluctantly, the Dwarf stopped his song. "These halls were occupied by my people for thousands of years," he finally said. "They were the oldest of the dwellings of my people. The Elves have called these halls Moria, 'Dark Chasm', but my people name them Khazad-Dûm. And they were not darksome, but filled with light and songs, the sound of harps and chisels, and the work of delvers and smiths and masons. Lamps of crystal were hewn here to catch the light of sun and moon, and many-pillared halls of stone, and there were smithies that forged arms and blades, as well as jewelry of great craft and worth. These caves we are wandering through now are but the western part, and mostly mines. But the halls of my fathers are even greater. And they were not a place of emptiness, but a place of power, filled with wonders."

He fell silent. Legolas looked at him in wonder. But it was Sam who spoke up.

"I like that," he said, "and I should like to hear that song you started there, someday, and maybe to learn it. But it makes the darkness seem heavier, thinking of all those lamps. And if your people lived here for so long, why did they leave?"

Gimli shuddered. "Durin's Bane," he whispered, but then he fell silent again, as if the mere mention of that ancient evil could somehow conjure it.

It was Gandalf who answered for him.

"It is told that the Dwarves awoke a great evil under the mountains, one day, and that this evil was too great for them to fight. It drove them out," he said, in a hushed whisper. "What it was, the wise do not know, but it must have been more than just an infestation of Orcs."

He shook his head. "Let's hope that it is not active here any more, and that our presence might go unnoticed."

Legolas cast a look at Gimli, but the Dwarf had fallen silent; after his engaged speech, he would say no more. Pippin and Merry looked fearful, but not very disturbed. Then, he looked at Frodo. The Ring-Bearer was pale, and his glances around spoke of more than just unrest. Legolas met his gaze, and they shared an uneasy look.

Apparently, the Ring-Bearer had felt the power lurking somewhere out there, too. And obviously, he shared Legolas' misgivings of the likelihood that the Fellowship would escape it unawares.


___________________ o ________________


A few steps behind, at the end of the line, Aragorn stiffened, when Gimli first approached the Elf. He quickened his steps as if to move closer to the two; but a hand on his shoulder restrained him.

"Wait," Boromir whispered, "let him fight his own battles."

Aragorn shook the hand off him and glared at his fellow human.

"Last time I let him fight his own battles, that Dwarf nearly goaded him into killing," he hissed back. "I will not allow..."

Boromir shook his head. "Your Elf is a competent warrior, and skilled with words," he said. "He is more than capable to defend himself, even without killing. And he will never be safe from the Dwarf if he does not earn his respect himself. Trust him!"

Aragorn hesitated. "It is not his skill I do not trust," he muttered. "Nor is he the one who will likely start a confrontation. About that Dwarf, however, I am not so sure."

Boromir shrugged. "Our Dwarf has sworn an oath to you. I think that he has learned his lesson," he said quietly. "Let them come to terms without your interference."

Aragorn said nothing. He watched the exchange a few steps before them intently, ready to intervene if necessary. His brows climbed up when Gimli started singing.

Boromir beside him smirked. "You see?" he asked, "I had a feeling our Dwarf meant to make peace rather than start another fight."

Aragorn shook his head. He said nothing; but he let himself fall back a little, to leave the pair ahead of them some room, and found that Boromir did the same. He was not sure if he liked Boromir's new attitude as Legolas' self-appointed champion; but at least, it was an improvement to his attitude before. As long as it did not hurt Legolas... Still, he kept himself ready to intervene, should it be needed, and kept all his senses attuned to the pair at the head of the line.

He did not notice the soft padded steps that followed far behind them.


______________ o ______________


Even the gloomy words of Gandalf could not silence the Hobbits for long. Merry and Pippin soon regained their curiosity and were now pestering the wizard with questions.(2)

"If Moria was so rich and full of lamps and jewels, do you suppose there are still some of those treasures here?" asked Merry.

At first, he did not get an answer; Gimli remained silent. It was Gandalf who finally replied.

"Treasures? No! Moria has been plundered by Orcs, quite thoroughly. If any of its splendor of old is still here, it is hidden away deep down in the deepest shafts, drowned in water – or in a shadow of fear."

"Then what did the Dwarves came back for?" Pippin asked.

The question earned him a dirty look from the Dwarf, but it was Gandalf who answered again.

Bowing under a low-hanging rock, he stopped beside a stone with visible silver streaks running through it.

"Mithril," he said. "The worth of Moria was not in gold, nor jewels; but mithril!"

He held out his staff and heightened the low glimmer at the top to a bright light. And now, the company could see that the deep chasm opening beside their path went down into fathomless depths, and also continued above them into unimaginable heights. Old ladders, metal chains, cranes and other mining tools, long abandoned, were all around them. On the other side of the chasm, the rock was scattered with shafts and holes, bearing witness of eager, busy mining work that took place here once, but now lying quiet and empty, abandoned.

They all stared. Gandalf let them get a glimpse of the enormity of the abandoned mining site, but then he retrieved his staff and dimmed the light again.

"Mithril!" he said, "Truesilver, it is also called. Everyone wanted it! It can be hammered and formed like copper, and yet it is hard and unbreakable as the hardest steel. The Elves were mad for it; so were the Dwarves and Men. But of all places in the known world, it can be found only here. By now, its worth is nearly invaluable."

He walked on. Silently, the company followed, all caught in their own thoughts. After a moment, Gandalf spoke again.

"Bilbo had a shirt of mithril rings that Thorin gave him," he said. "I wonder what became of it?"

That remark was enough to raise Gimli from his gloomy mood. "Oh! A corselet of mithril?" he asked, "That was a kingly gift!"

Gandalf chuckled. "Yes," he said. "I never told him, but its value was greater then the value of all the Shire!"

Legolas, walking directly behind him, said nothing. He shuddered. He recalled a certain mithril shirt, of the right size to fit a Hobbit, that had once been in the possession of a certain Elven princeling... but the memories associated with that shirt were not good ones, and he did not care to recall them.

Then he noticed that Frodo fidgeted and looked uncomfortably around him. For a moment, he pondered if the Hobbit perhaps knew more about what became of that mithril shirt. But then, he shoved the question away.

He did not wish to think about this!

Silently, he moved on.


______________ o ______________


It was late when the Fellowship finally settled down to rest that night. It was time to do so, too; during the last few hours, the Hobbits had just stumbled forward on tired feet, visibly hard pressed to keep up, and even Legolas had keenly felt the lack of sleep on too many previous nights creeping back into his limbs.

He had no way to judge how long they had been marching. All he knew was that the occasional beams of light they had come across grew less and less bright, and the light they gave to add to the sparse light of the torch and to the wizard's staff grew dim, finally ceasing altogether, until only a sudden gush of fresher air made it palpable that an opening to the outside world was near. These openings themselves grew sparse and few between, as far as he could tell, since now their path from time to time led them through shafts carved deep into the living rock, just to open again into more caves of various sizes quite suddenly. Their path had become harder to follow, being crossed by openings to other tunnels and other ways, and more often than not Gandalf had made a short pause at them to ponder the way they should take. But still the wizard had urged them on relentlessly, and only now he finally relented and bade them to stop and make camp.

"I do not think that we can go on tonight," he stated, "nor do I think we should. We are all exhausted, and all the paths leading from here are tricky. Tomorrow, we must take special care to find the right passage, the one that will lead us to the great hall at the upper level, close to the Eastern Gate. We will do better if we are well-rested, and this place looks as good as any to do so."

Nobody protested. The whole company was quite ready to follow his counsel.

Indeed, the place Gandalf had chosen was better than many others they had passed so far: it was a relatively wide platform in one of the caves, protected at three sides by walls and with only two paths leading away, both of them easily defended if it came to that. The chasm at the third side was not as deep, only some fifteen feet, and the whole cave not very high. And it was dry and had a relatively level ground. With any luck they could hope for an undisturbed night.

Following long-trained habit, Legolas returned to the side of his master for the night and started to unroll his bedroll beside the one of Aragorn. But a light touch on his arm stopped him. Looking up, he met Aragorn's meaningful gaze.

Wordlessly, Aragorn gave him a short nod in the direction of Boromir.

Legolas froze, then he bowed his head. He had nearly forgotten about Aragorn's command the previous night to seek out Boromir again, and somehow he had hoped that maybe the confrontation between Boromir and Aragorn this morning would have changed his master's mind.

Apparently, it had not. Aragorn insisted.

Giving his master an obedient bow, Legolas took his blanket and pack and made his way over to the man of Gondor.

Boromir looked up as Legolas approached him and bowed before him.

"My Lord Boromir," the Elf said quietly, "may I ask to be allowed to keep you company, tonight?"

Boromir studied him for a moment. The Elf looked pale, and somewhat tired. Other than that, he could not read his polite expression.

"I am not your lord, Legolas," he reminded gently, "but of course you may! I will keep you company with pleasure!"

He patted the blanket he sat on invitingly.

Giving him another polite bow, Legolas spread his blanket beside him and settled down.

Shrugging out of his harness with his quiver and his knives, placing it carefully beside his pack, he said quietly:

"Actually, ...Master Boromir, I had hoped to ask for your company, tonight, in... private."

Boromir looked at him, critically. Then he asked, equally quietly: "Is this your own, free will?"

Legolas avoided his gaze. He did not speak, just nodded.

Boromir narrowed his eyes. "Look at me!" he commanded, and startled, the Elf obeyed. Boromir cocked his head.

Quietly and determinedly, he repeated his question. "It is truly your wish to be with me, tonight, or has your master commanded you to seek me out?"

Legolas swallowed. For a moment, he could not answer, and his eyes flickered a little. Then he carefully began: "I -" - but he got no further.

Boromir had seen enough. He cut him off with a brusque gesture. Throwing an angry glare in the direction of Aragorn, he growled: "That fiend! Let me take care of this! I swear - "

Quickly, Legolas placed a hand on his arm and shook his head.

"Boromir! Please!" he implored intently, "we have discussed this already! You said that I could come to you at need, and as a friend! Please! It is as a friend that I now come to you! Will you deny me?"

He spoke lowly, quietly, below the hearing of the majority of the Fellowship; and indeed, in the familiar bustle of spreading out blankets, unpacking packs and preparing the meal, the content of their conversation had so far apparently gone unnoticed. That opportunity could be over any time, though.

Boromir shot the Elf a skeptical glance. He could see that the Elven slave was mortified and clearly feared another scene about his status and situation in front of the whole Fellowship.

Reluctantly, the man of Gondor nodded and gave in, unwilling to embarrass him even more.

"All right, if you are sure," he muttered quietly. "But I swear this master of yours deserves a knock or two around the head. One of these days, he will find my good, glowed fist in his face, if he does not mend his ways very soon."

Legolas said nothing. After a moment, he began tiredly and resignedly: "Boromir -"

But Boromir just shook his head. He placed a gentle hand on the Elf's shoulder.

"Leave it," he said gently. "I know you are loyal to him, and maybe he deserves it, although I surely cannot see why. But for now it does not matter. I do not ask you should agree with me. It is just hard to see what he still puts you through."

Legolas said nothing. A treacherous, rebellious little part of his mind whispered: 'You have no idea!' - but he banished that thought. Aloud, he said tiredly: "He is my master. And I told you already that he has his reasons, and they are sound."

Boromir just made a face. Then he sighed.

After a moment, he said quietly: "I think we shall wait until after the meal, when everyone has settled down to sleep. Then we can go and find a spot of privacy. It will be my pleasure and my honor to serve your needs tonight, and I do hope I can make sure you will not have cause to regret it. I would just wish -" he trailed off.

Legolas took a deep breath. He bowed his had to the Gondorian once more and said sincerely and earnestly: "Thank you, Boromir. You are very generous."

Boromir just shook his head again. Nevertheless, he finally replied: "You are welcome, Master Elf," and he meant it.

Then he added: "I do not think we need to go far; I believe I recall a good place around the bend and some fifty paces back on the path we came. I wondered why Gandalf did not call for a halt there, earlier this night."

This time, the Elven slave at his side gave him a smile.

"You mean that Dwarven storeroom we passed, or whatever they once used it for?" he asked. "Well, you men would have had a hard time to stand up straight and swing your sword, at need." He sent an rather amused look to the Dwarf and the Hobbits.

"For our other companions, though, that place might have been perfect."

Boromir gave him a sly look. He accepted the invitation to change the topic and the mood. "You could not have stood up straight there, either," he reminded.

The Elf grinned back at him.

"Ah, but, my friend, you forget that I am an archer. I do not need to stand to work my craft. Nor does the wizard. You men, though..."

Boromir sighed and mock-scowled. Giving up, he decided to just play along.

He would never understand this Elf!


____________ o ___________


It was about an hour later, when they finally stole out of the camp. Pippin, who had the first watch this night, shot Legolas an alarmed and questioning look, when they passed him, but the Elf replied to his unvoiced question with a quick, reassuring shake of his head and placed a finger on his lips, in a mute pleading to keep silent. The Hobbit acquiesced. Still, he looked skeptical and dismayed, and shot a baleful glare at Boromir. Legolas sighed inwardly. He supposed he would have to speak with the Hobbit to protect Boromir from his wrath during the next few days; but he still was grateful for the unspoken support.

He had shrugged back into his harness and his pack, which held his blanket again, and taken the torch, and when they left the range of the low, but steady glimmer of the wizard's staff, the flickering light of the flame cast eerie shadows all around. Legolas soon handed the torch to Boromir and let him take the lead. His keen ears had not missed the nearly inaudible steps that followed them at a respectful distance, nor did his nose miss the faint wisp of pipe-weed of Aragorn's familiar brand. The Hobbits preferred another brand of the weed, the best one of the Shire, as they claimed; and the Dwarf could never have moved as quietly, even if he had tried. There could be no doubt who it was who followed them. Apparently, his master had decided to ensure their safety, tonight, by keeping watch while they were necessarily distracted.

Legolas was not sure if he felt grateful about this. However, he was very sure that the Gondorian, should he discover they were not alone, would hardly like it. He just hoped the man of Gondor would remain oblivious.

They need not go far. The place Boromir had mentioned was around a bend and through a tunnel along the path they had come earlier in the evening, and it might indeed once have been a storeroom, or maybe a sleeping shelter for the Dwarven miners. It was a space carved into the living rock, just at the mouth of the tunnel, twice as deep as a man stood high, and three times as long; but the roof was too low for a man to stand without a crouch. However, what they planned for tonight would not require them to remain standing for long.

Along the path, the space had once been closed by a wall, which had been either smashed by an attack, or by an earthquake; most of the wall had long since crumbled to dust. One third remained. Legolas dropped his pack and took the torch from the Adan; then he secured it with some stones at the wall closest to the tunnel. His and Boromir's shadows would be on the other side of the light, not easily seen on the outside. Aragorn might see if there was any enemy nearing their hiding place along the path, but he would not have the benefit of watching what they were about to do tonight. Legolas felt that he owed Boromir as much, in thanks for the Gondorian's generosity.

If his master wished to make him suffer for this, later, then so be it.

Finally, Legolas spread his blanket on the ground in the protected space, shrugged out of his harness and placed his weapons within easy reach. Kneeling down, he waited mutely for the Adan.

He did not wait for long.

Boromir followed Legolas' example and spread his own blanket beside that of the Elf. Carefully, he got rid of his sword-belt, setting it beside Legolas' quiver and bow, and then knelt down before him. He proceeded to shed his vambraces. Soon enough, he felt the helpful hands of his companion, working to free him of his heavy leather jerkin. He enjoyed the assistance, but when the Elf proceeded to fold the jerkin and place it and the vambraces on a tidy pile, he turned to him and began to open the laces of Legolas' tunic.

Legolas jerked a little.

"There is no need for you to do that, My Lord, I can..." he began, but Boromir sighed and shook his head.

Placing a gentle finger on the Elf's lips, he reminded: "I am not your lord, Legolas, remember? And where I come from, turnabout is fair play! I usually help my lovers as much as they help me!"

Carefully, but gently, he opened the laces of the leather tunic, then those of the vambraces the archer still wore; then he helped his companion to shed both and placed them on a pile beside the one with his own clothes. Then he let Legolas help him out of his undershirt, and reciprocated to do the same for his companion.

When the luminous skin of the Elf was finally revealed, he took in a deep breath.

"You really glow in the dark!"

Legolas had worked hard not to let Boromir see the tension he felt, despite the Adan's gentleness and generosity; a tension that sat in his gut like an icy lump. But at this remark, he almost had to laugh.

"We are nearly four weeks on our way, and two days in these mines, and this is the first time you noticed?" he asked.

The man cocked his head. "It is the first time I have seen your naked skin revealed to me, here," he claimed.

Legolas gave him a skeptical look. "You have seen me naked, before," he reminded. "At least twice."

A shadow flitted over Boromir's face, but just briefly. He looked a little uncomfortable, and a little sheepish.

"I was distracted, then," he admitted.

Legolas almost snorted. "That I may believe!" he said.

Boromir carefully reached out a hand. "May I – may I touch you?" he asked.

Legolas held his breath. The Gondorian asked for permission? He suppressed the urge to bite his lips and nodded. Some of the tension returned.

Boromir's hand closed the distance. Reverently, he stroke along the lithe torso of the Elf.

Legolas shivered a little under the gentle touch, but to his surprise not with revulsion. Indeed, the man's fingers were warm, and callused, and made his skin tingle under the caress. His breath hitched.

Boromir did not seem to notice.

"You know," the Adan said admiringly, while he carefully followed the lines of the Elf's body, "I almost think we would not have needed to take that torch to get here. We could just have followed your glow."

Legolas could not help himself. He laughed.

"Believe me, you would not get far, just following my glow," he replied. As silly as the little jest had been, he was grateful for the attempt to lighten the mood. He felt another part of the tension leave his body.

He took a deep breath. Carefully, he took the hand caressing him and brought it to his lips. He kissed the palm and fingers, then he let it go and reached out himself. "May I - ?" he asked.

Boromir nodded. "Fair play, remember?" he said. "Of course you may!"

Fascinated, Legolas began his own exploration of the Adan's body.

It was not the first time he had seen Boromir naked; the Gondorian washed himself, after all, as regularly as Aragorn. But the two times when Boromir had taken him before, the human had not completely undressed for him, but had kept his undershirt. This was the first time Legolas saw the Adan's naked skin revealed for him alone, and the idea felt strange and exciting in his mind. Even Aragorn did not always undress to take his slave; he rarely did so when they were out in the wilds, which was wisdom at times when at least one of them had to stay ready to fight at a moment's notice; but he did not even always undress to make love – or play his games - when they both were safe somewhere in the Ranger's camp or at an inn. Having Legolas vulnerable and naked while he himself stayed at least partly clothed added spice to his games and heightened his sense of power. Only Halbarad always undressed for him...

Legolas banished that train of thought and concentrated on his partner.

Hesitantly at first, then bolder, his hands followed the line of the broad shoulders, a little broader than those of Aragorn; stroked along the well-build muscles under tight, velvet skin, down to the chest, over the breast-bone and downwards along the slight fur to the muscled breast. His exploring fingers found the small, brown nipples, teasing a little, and he smiled at the quick intake of breath that provoked, feeling the nubs harden under his attentions; then his hands wandered deeper, along the rib-cage, to the tight stomach...

Boromir's breath hitched, and got faster. The man's lips were slightly open, and his face was awash in wonder. His skin gleamed golden in the torchlight, and Legolas' exploring fingers felt the scars on the body which the light would not reveal. His breath caught. The man kneeling before him, as different to Aragorn as he was, was beautiful, in his own way.

Confused and shocked, Legolas frowned for a moment.

Why would he think that?

The ceasing of his caress elicited a little moan of protest. Then the man's hands came up again. They stopped inches from his body, and Boromir gave him a questioning look. With baited breath, he nodded.

Then Boromir began reciprocating his caresses in earnest, and Legolas' breath hitched again.

The hands caressing him felt wonderful on his skin, gentle, clever, careful, exploring and finding all the right places, stroking, teasing, setting him aflame. Obviously, the man had studied him well the two times they had been together, and knew where to touch and where to caress. His hands followed the lines of Legolas' torso like a sculptor, slowly wandering up, pausing briefly at the chest to tease the little nubs that rested there, then roaming up to his shoulders, to his neck, finally his ears...

Legolas gasped. The careful, clever caress sent hot jolts through him, as did Boromir's face. The man wore an expression of complete concentration, almost dedication, that Legolas had so far only known from Estel, in his better moments. His confusion mounted. But at the same time, the gentle attentions raised his arousal, drove him ever higher.

Finally, Boromir leaned forward and stopped just moments from his lips.

"May I kiss you?"the man whispered.

Legolas nodded.

The kiss was sweet, and hot, and sent fire through his veins. Legolas felt himself harden, and for a moment, panic coursed through him.

This was not Estel! How -

Then Boromir renewed the kiss, at the same time stroking along Legolas' ear, and all thoughts were swept away.

Legolas gave a little moan of protest when the kiss ended, but allowed himself willingly to be pushed down on the blanket by his partner. Clever hands fumbled with the laces of his leggings, and he hurried to help. He moaned again when the laces gave way and the cloth was pushed down, and lifted his pelvis to help. Then he moaned for a third time when a hot mouth closed over his straining member and began to suckle and caress. His hands buried in the man's hair, and his confusion rushed back again.

Estel did not like that!

But this was not Estel, and there was no protest. Instead the man making love to him intensified his efforts.

Legolas' confusion mounted, mixing with the haze of arousal and excitement coursing through his body.

This was not Estel! Then why did he feel such pleasure, such desire? Why--

Hands roamed over his stomach, his sides, up to his chest. Callused thumbs found his nipples, caressing, teasing, making him gasp. The hot cavern engulfing his member left him for a moment, and he moaned in protest.

Looking up, he found Boromir gazing down at him, eyes shining with admiration.

"Valar, but you are beautiful!" the man breathed. "Let go, now! Come for me, Master Elf!"

It was the tone, full of desire and invitation, and the expression of Boromir's eyes, shining with passion. It drove Legolas right over the edge. He spilled himself, gasping, all thoughts and all confusion swept away by one moment of intense pleasure. Strong hands held him, grounded him, while he rode the waves. He did not know if he had uttered a name. It didn't matter.

When he finally slowly found his breath again, he opened his eyes – he had not even noticed he had closed them – to the gaze of Boromir's bright, shining eyes.

"You are beautiful," Boromir said again in a hoarse whisper. "Let me serve you now!"

And he gently pulled Legolas up and guided him around until he had him kneeling, his back to Boromir, slightly leaning forward, ready to be taken. Then, Boromir hesitated for a moment.

"Do you have some oil?" he asked, breathless.

Legolas just nodded. He reached for his pack and found the little vial he had placed strategically on top of his other gear. Handing it back to Boromir, he placed himself on all fours, shivering in anticipation. He heard the slight rustle as the man freed his erection, uncorked the bottle and prepared himself.

His confusion returned and intensified.

He had been sent to do this by Estel, against his own wish and desire. He was not yet in need. There was no reason why he should welcome the attention of any other.

Why then did he feel that much anticipation, that much pleasure? Why was he eager for the man kneeling behind him, and did not fear the moment he would be invaded by the other's flesh?


Closing his eyes again, he tried to conjure Estel's face, tried to imagine that the hands now stroking gently and hesitantly over his buttocks were Estel's, that it were Estel's clever fingers stroking over his cleft, teasing his entrance...

It didn't work.

All he could see before him were Boromir's shining eyes, his gentle face, the respectful way he had asked for Legolas' invitation and welcome before he touched him.

He was distracted from his train of thoughts by Boromir's hoarse question: "Ready?"

Legolas just nodded.

The fingers entered his passage, gently preparing, teasing, stretching; then the fingers left again and he felt his own breathing quickening in anticipation. Finally, he felt the thick, blunt flesh of Boromir's cock pierce him, entering his body inch by inch.

Legolas breathed hard. He could not help tensing up for a moment; but the man holding him with strong, yet gentle hands stopped and waited until his body adjusted. Then, Boromir slowly pushed deeper, finally hitting his sweet spot, and all thoughts were driven from Legolas' mind again.

It did not take long. Boromir set a rhythm, slow at first, then faster, and took care to adjust his own angle so that he would give the most possible pleasure to his partner; and when he finally reached his peak, spilling himself within his partner's body, he took Legolas with him.

The new climax took Legolas like a wave, and his gasp sounded suspiciously like a sob. He was not sure if he had said a name, and if he had, he was not sure if that name had belonged to Boromir or to his master. If he had whispered Estel's name again, Boromir gave no sign that he had noticed.

The man withdrew and slumped against Legolas for a moment, hugging him hard. Then he guided the Elf around and stole a kiss.

"Thank you, beautiful one," he said, "you have been wonderful!"

Legolas didn't answer. He breathed hard, holding back a sob. Boromir kissed his cheek.

"Do you think we may rest a while?" he added.

Legolas looked at him. The Adan seemed exhausted.

"Go ahead," he said, "I shall keep watch."

For a moment, he thought the man would protest, but then Boromir just nodded and laid down. Legolas took Boromir's blanket and spread it over him. Moments later, the man was already asleep.

Legolas sat beside him. He stared blindly into the flickering torchlight, casting eerie shadows on the wall of the cave. From time to time, his eyes wandered down to the sleeping man lying beside him.

Just once, his eyes flicked over to the mouth of the tunnel where he assumed his master waited.

Why was it that the one he loved, the one who owned his heart, could not give him this, the gentleness and pleasure he had shared this night, while the one who could give him what he craved most from his beloved was just a friendly stranger?

Bitterly and silently, Legolas kept watch over his sleeping partner.


______________ o ________________


When Boromir woke, the light of the torch was dim, nearly burned down. They would need to replace the fuel, soon. He groaned a little and sat up. Legolas beside him was already dressed, wearing his weapons, and had packed his gear. Now he reached for Boromir's shirt and held it out to him.

"It is late," the Elf said tersely. "We should return to the camp."

Boromir nodded. He took the shirt and slipped into it, gladly accepting the help of Legolas' nimble fingers. He could feel the Elf's hands slightly trembling.

He stopped and shot his companion a questioning look.

"You seem disturbed," he observed quietly. "What is it?"

Legolas just shook his head. "It is nothing," he said, "I am fine."

But he avoided Boromir's eyes, and his face seemed drawn.

Boromir studied him for a moment, puzzled. Legolas had not seemed unwilling, earlier tonight, nor even unhappy. Why -

Then, suddenly, understanding dawned.

For a moment, irritation grabbed Boromir, and he wanted to snap at the Elf, and at his stupid master. But he fought it down.

He sighed.

Reaching out, he placed a gentle hand on the Elf's arm.

"Look," he said, "there is no need for you to feel guilty or to be concerned. We did nothing wrong."

Startled and caught, Legolas looked at him.

Boromir returned his gaze earnestly and gently.

"You came to me as a friend. What we did tonight was given in friendship, from one friend to another. And you need not fear your master being upset. It was him who sent you to seek me out. You need not fear that you betrayed him. Nor did you betray me."

Legolas stared at him, wide-eyed and disbelieving, then he uttered what sounded like a sob and drew Boromir into a fierce embrace. Boromir returned the hug, astonished.

After a moment, Legolas drew back. He took the face of the man into his hands and kissed him.

"Thank you, Boromir," he said, seriously and earnestly, "thank you!"

Boromir traced his cheek.

"You are welcome," he assured his partner, "Always. Whenever you need me or wish to seek me out. And I am the one who has to thank you for tonight."

Legolas closed his eyes and nodded. "You are a good friend, Boromir," he said. "Thank you again."

Then he opened his eyes anew and resumed his task, helping Boromir into his clothes.

"We must go back," he explained, "the watch will change, soon."

But this time he seemed more relaxed. Boromir accepted his assistance gladly.

When they returned on their way, there was no sign that anyone beside them had been there, or had followed them that night, and when they returned to the camp, Legolas could see Aragorn lying on his blanket, apparently sleeping. But he knew the breathing of his master, and Aragorn's breath came too regularly and too slow. Legolas was sure he was awake. He just hoped Boromir would not notice.

He did not go to settle down beside his master. Instead, he spread his blanket at the side of Boromir. He deemed he owed the man of Gondor at least as much for his generosity tonight.

But long after Boromir had drifted off to sleep, Legolas lay awake.

He was sure he would not find any more rest, this night.


_________________ o _______________


-- TBC --


Notes:

(1) This sentence, slightly adapted, as well as the first two verses of Gimli's song, are directly lifted from the book LOTR, 1954, 1995, p. 307f; originally, though, Gimli is speaking to Sam, there, and Gandalf does not interrupt him. Gimli's speech I give here is inspired by that song; and Sam's reply is adapted from the replies he made to the song.

(2) This whole passage is a close adaptation of a similar exchange in the book LOTR, 1954, 1995, pp. 307 ff., (there mainly happening between Gandalf and Sam), and Peter Jackson's movie FOTR, Extended Edition, of the same scene in Moria. Please look up the two original sources to see the differences, because I mixed book and movie elements of the scenes, and changed the sentences to meet my purposes.


This is a work of fan fiction, written because the author has an abiding love for the works of J R R Tolkien. The characters, settings, places, and languages used in this work are the property of the Tolkien Estate, Tolkien Enterprises, and possibly New Line Cinema, except for certain original characters who belong to the author of the said work. The author will not receive any money or other remuneration for presenting the work on this archive site. The work is the intellectual property of the author, is available solely for the enjoyment of Henneth Annûn Story Archive readers, and may not be copied or redistributed by any means without the explicit written consent of the author.

Story Information

Author: Crowdaughter

Status: General

Completion: Work in Progress

Era: 3rd Age - Ring War

Genre: Drama

Rating: Adult

Last Updated: 05/11/11

Original Post: 12/23/06

Go to Mael-Gûl overview

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