Another’s Guilt

Another’s Guilt by Númenora

Rating: NC-17 this chapter

Summary: See chapter one.

Disclaimers: I am NOT Tolkien. All known characters are his and the names of most or all OCs are Tolkien’s as well.

Warnings: Remember, this is slash; Very AU Aragorn/Legolas Mpreg fiction. Major angst; un-betaed, all mistakes are mine. Please read chapter one for full warnings.


A/N: This chapter will deal with Aragorn and Legolas in Edoras still; again, Éowyn, Théodred and King Théoden will be present, adding to the angst for our lovers and the elves will return (some new ones—I won’t say who, but you’ll see). There will be some OOC-ness again, but not so much so that the characters will be unrecognizable. But since this is AU, many things are different. Some more insight into Aragorn’s birth will be revealed, too. This will be a longer chapter than the last one (yay!) and there will be some action of a sexual nature (grrr). And lots and lots of angst. So be warned!

Thoughts, dreams and stressed words denoted by * *

[ ] denotes a flashback and /or a dream sequence



Chapter 11

“Restitution”

Aragorn hummed an elvish lullaby as he held Legolas close to him. He had learned the song as a small boy from Mithrandir; the Maia was Aragorn’s earliest instructor in Quenya and Sindarin (as well as other Middle-earth languages such as Dwarvish). As the melody flowed out sweetly, he could feel Legolas calm against his body beneath the blanket.

[*Legolas’ eyes opened to the sound of birds chirping overhead—mingling with a childish voice giggling.

‘Will ‘Da be joining us?’ The voice asked. Legolas looked up to see a small child of five or six with dark, slightly wavy hair looking down on him as he draped his small frame over the branch of a large tree.

‘I do not know, Penneth,’ Legolas said to the child who looked familiar to him, but he could not place from where they could have met.

‘I think that perhaps I should go hunt for him—can I, Ada?’ The little boy was looking expectant towards Legolas.

The Prince was confused as to why this youngster called him ‘Ada’ but he did not think that one so young should be wandering about alone in this strange place. Legolas glanced about and deduced that he and the child were in a garden in a city of Men somewhere; he had seen many drawings and paintings of Númenor—vast stone buildings hewn out of the side of mountains such as this place. Before he could ponder it further, the boy spoke again.

‘What is wrong, Ada?’

‘I do not know. What is your name, Penneth?’ Legolas asked the child.

He laughed at Legolas, saying, ‘You should know my name for you gave it to me! Is this a new game, Ada? Should I get ‘Da so he can play, too?’

‘You should not wander about for you may get lost.’ Legolas stared closely at the child thinking he did look so very familiar to him.

‘I shan’t get lost as this is our home—you know this, Ada. Besides, my guard will be with me.’

‘Your guard?’

‘The one that Daerada sent from Greenwood to protect me!’ The boy giggled as he scrambled down from his perch on the tree limb, finally coming to stand before Legolas.

When he tilted his head to the side, grinning, Legolas smiled, too, for he now knew who this boy was. With eyes as blue as his own with nearly his complexion, the child was definitely his son. But then, he began to realize something else; this child was so familiar because of his smile. The lips were like Aragorn’s and the hair as well, though not as wavy. *He is mine,* Legolas thought—mine and Aragorn’s.

Just then, a sweet Elven melody flowed around them as Legolas reached out his arms to his son. As the child came into his embrace, the wood-elf tucked the boy’s head beneath his chin, cradling him close.

‘This is where I belong,’ Legolas whispered as the small arms squeezed him tightly.*]

Legolas’ arms squeezed Aragorn as he whispered aloud, “This is where I belong...”

“What is it you said, sweet Legolas?” Aragorn ran his knuckles along Legolas’ pale cheek. When he received no answer, he started up his lullaby once more, gently rocking his beloved.

A few minutes later, there was a soft tap on the door. Quietly, Aragorn eased away from the resting Elda and tipped to the door. A young servant waited on the other side.

Seeing Aragorn’s finger pressed against his lips, she whispered, asking if they needed her assistance before they joined King Théoden for tea.

“Nay. Please take this note to His Majesty forthwith.”

Aragorn scribbled a few lines on a piece of parchment giving his regrets at missing tea. When the young woman had left, Aragorn returned to find Legolas moving restlessly on the bed. Once Aragorn had taken up his former position, the blond Prince calmed once more.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

King Théoden pushed aside the last of the signed papers before him; they were the last of some minor business postponed from earlier as he and his heirs awaited Prince Aragorn and his party. He was still overwhelmed at having met Prince Legolas of Greenwood. Imagine—an elf in Rohan! From what Éowyn relayed to him, he was quite disturbed on many levels.

First was the fact that Legolas had been separated from his family on the way Lórien. She said that she had asked Aragorn why he had not taken the Prince there instead of coming here to Meduseld—a very good question, for an incident such as this could cause Gondor and Arnor to go to war with the elves (much less led to bloodshed in the history of Middle-earth).

However, Aragorn did say that he would explain all to them later and Théoden looked forward to that explanation. But, what truly disturbed him was Éowyn’s suggestion that Aragorn was in love with the beautiful ellon. He did not want to believe it, but the First Marshal of the Riddermark could not dismiss the possessive manner in which the dúnadan behaved towards Legolas just a short while ago.

*Why cannot these young ones behave in the manner best suited for them!* He thought angrily before slamming his fist on the hardwood desk, causing the contents to rattle.

Éowyn, who was sitting curled in a large chair near the window, jumped at the sudden noise nearly dropping her book.

“Is something the matter, Uncle?”

“Nay, my dear. I was just thinking of something that needs to be taken care of that which has become an inconvenience—mind me not.” He offered.

“If I can help you...”

“No—no, Éowyn; it will work itself out.” His smile was reassuring and she smiled in returned.

A knock sounded at the door. “Enter.”

The servant Aragorn dispatched came in with a brief, but respectful curtsy. “A note, My Lord,” she handed the folded parchment to the King and waited.

“Thank you—that will be all,” the monarch said as he scanned the paper once more.

As the young woman left, Éowyn came to her uncle’s side. “Is it bad news?”

“Aragorn says that Legolas is ill and that they will not be joining us for tea; he sends his regrets, but hopes that they will be able to have dinner with us.”

“I did not think that elves could become ill; at least this is what I have been told. Was I misinformed?” She gently took the note from King Théoden and read it for herself.

“Elves are impervious to the illnesses and maladies that men and other mortals suffer, but they can become ill when it involves the heart. They grieve quite easily and from what you have told me about his plight (being parted from his family and alone in this world of Men), then it is understandable that he is grieving.”

“Then, perhaps, we can help him somehow; persuade Aragorn to take him home,” Éowyn suggested.

King Théoden nodded at her recommendation. *Yes,* he thought. *Sending Legolas back home could cure Aragorn of this notion that he is in love with the elf.* He stood and took his niece’s small hand and they left to go check on their guests.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Legolas became restless again and he reached for Aragorn’s familiar form, but he felt only the cooled sheets of the bed on which he was lying. Eyes re-focusing, the beauty looked about the quiet room.
Sitting up, he rubbed his face, pushing back errant strands of pale-gold hair.

“I must look a sight,” he whispered.

Just then, hushed voices coming from the main sitting room reached him. Legolas instantly recognized Aragorn smooth tones and then he heard Éowyn speak, her kind voice now familiar to the Sinda. There was another male as well, but Legolas did not know this voice. Scrambling from beneath his blanket on the large bed, he stood unsteadily onto his feet. Taking a deep breath, he walked over to a carved wooden stand where a stone pitcher and basin rested. Legolas poured out some water and splashed some on his face, immediately feeling better.

Next, he sat down at a mirrored table where his comb and other belonging were lying next to other grooming implements that must have belonged to Faramir. After lighting a candle, Legolas began the task of un-braiding his hair which was tangled and in disarray. It needed washing after their trek from the Falls—some of the plains they crossed were rather dusty—but it could wait for now. Once the braids and tangles were gone, he quickly re-braided the hair at his temples and replaced his comb onto the vanity.

*I should change my tunic at least,* he thought to himself and did just that; removing both it and the shirt he wore underneath. A quick wash in the basin, and Legolas donned some of the new garments Aragorn had made for him. Feeling presentable, he walked over to the door, preparing to join Aragorn.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I have been quite selfish where Legolas is concerned and I am ashamed. But I will rectify that situation by taking him home tomorrow—if he is well enough.” Aragorn sipped his wine as he stared at the carpet, not really seeing it.

“Oh, Aragorn—I am so sorry,” Éowyn grabbed his hand, squeezing the fingers tenderly.

“I think this would be the best course, Your Highness; for the Prince’s wellbeing and for Gondor’s as well. I know that this is not uppermost in your mind right now, but you must know that an incident such as this could lead to war with Greenwood the Great and its allies. There has never been a war between men and elves on a large scale to my knowledge and I don’t want one and I can’t believe you do either.”

King Théoden rested his hand on Aragorn’s shoulder in a fatherly manner. When he arrived at the Guest Manor, his motive was a selfish one—to get Aragorn to see reason and send Legolas home so that Théoden’s plans for making Éowyn Aragorn’s bride could go forward. But seeing the Prince so distraught made him remember that he loved this young man like a son and wanted only his happiness. He felt for him and his infatuation with Legolas, but he also was a ruler and had his kingdom to think of.

Besides, if he and Legolas were meant to be, then once the elf was safely returned home, then perhaps formal arrangements could be made for a courtship between them—though he didn’t see how with the strict Númenórean rules on marriage being in place. But this was a matter left for later and for the High King Arathorn. Now was the time for being prudent and avoiding war and bloodshed at all costs.

“I don’t want war, no one does; but I worry for Legolas’ life right now, so I will see him safely home.”

“Aragorn?” Éowyn still had the young Prince’s hand as she spoke.

“Yes, Love?”

“Are you sure that Faramir is well—I mean, that he will recover fully?”

“I would be willing to wager that he is up and about being most difficult with Lord Marach and Boromir, twisting them both around his fingers!” Aragorn laughed a genuine laugh—the first in many, many hours it seemed to him.

“Oh come now—you know that Faramir is not like that!” Éowyn laughed in Faramir’s defense.

“I am glad that the truth concerning Legolas’ involvement came out, as well as our dear Faramir surviving his ordeal,” Théoden King said truly relieved. “There has been no word on the thieves that attacked him?”

“None since leaving Outpost 40. After we knew that Faramir would live and we drew closer to the post, I had men run ahead to make preparations for us and to gather a party to search for them. Had there been more men early on, we...” Aragorn paused as he realized that he was about to repeat a lie that he told to himself many times over the past weeks in order to justify keeping Legolas with him.

He began again, “No, if I had not been so stubborn in my belief that Legolas was at fault, we could have caught those evil men, and none of this would have happened.” Tears had begun to fall and Aragorn buried his face in his hands and sobbed.

“Aragorn?” Legolas stood a few feet away from the seated trio. They all turned to him as he spoke, the men standing immediately.

Aragorn walked over to his beloved and touched his face to see if he was any better. “Are you alright, A’mael?” He gazed intently into the Prince’s thick-lashed cerulean eyes.

“I am fine, but you are crying!” Legolas surprised Aragorn by throwing his arms around his neck tightly, making it nearly impossible for him to breathe. But the dúnadan Prince did not care in the least.

Éowyn stood with her hand on her heart, the dreamiest look on her lovely face. King Théoden’s smile was bittersweet, knowing that what he wanted and what Aragorn wanted were at odds and also he worried that the Peredhel’s Elvish half would cause him to fade if he and Legolas separated forever.

“I am fine, Legolas—truly. I was just so worried for you because of your...your earlier collapse. Are you truly well?” He pushed away slightly from Legolas so that he could see his face, but held onto the Prince, being loathed to feel the elf move away from him.

“I *am* well, Aragorn.” He paused and looked reassuringly to King Théoden and Éowyn. “There is something that I wish to tell you, but...” He paused again, looking shyly at the others.

“Then we should leave you,” Éowyn quickly uttered, tough she was curious to know what Legolas wanted to say. But her romantic nature won out, wanting to give Aragorn and Legolas time to themselves. She knew that the Gondoran was in love with the elf, but she could clearly see that his feelings were returned by the concerned and adoring look that Legolas wore.

“Yes, Éowyn—you are correct. Aragorn; will you and Legolas be joining us for supper? I had a feast planned for later, but if you feel this is too much, then it can be an intimate affair with just family.” The older male offered.

“Legolas—what would you prefer?” Aragorn inquired.

Legolas remembered his dream and became so filled with joy that he wanted to celebrate; and as soon as he told Aragorn about it, he knew that his love would want that, too.

“Please do not change your plans on my behalf; a feast sounds lovely and I am rather hungry! Take care that I save some food for the rest of you,” he laughed, the sound enchanting.

“Legolas,” Aragorn breathed in awe.

He smiled at Legolas’ happy mood; but then, he felt he knew the reason for the change. Legolas must have heard him say that he (Aragorn) would take him home—that Legolas would be reunited with his family once more. *Remember your pledge, Aragorn,* he admonished himself. *You said that you would place Legolas first before all others, which includes you, especially.*

“Wonderful, wonderful! King Théoden boomed. “We will see you both in a few hours. Come, Éowyn,” he placed her hand in the crook of his arm and they turned to go.

“I’ll see you out, My Lord,” Aragorn offered, but the King waved him off.

“You see to Legolas and yourself; you don’t look as if you have rested since arriving here.”

“Very well, My Lord.” Aragorn and Legolas watched as the Rohirric Royals left. “You are sure you suffer no ill effects from earlier?” The dúnadan was still worried after finding Legolas in pain on the floor.

“I am well, Aragorn—so very well, indeed and you are the cause,” the blond stated, his beautiful face beaming.

“Then you heard what I said to Éowyn and King Théoden—that I would take you home on the morrow?”

Legolas’ smile vanished as he heard this. “You will take me home tomorrow?” His voice was just above a whisper and his eyes widened in shock.

“Yes, Pen-velui. I pledged to you as I held you that you will come first this day onward. You told me very plainly at the White Falls that you missed your ada and brothers and that you made them suffer. But you were wrong—it was I who did this.

“I kept you from them because I wanted you with me—I still do. But, what I want is no longer paramount, sweet Legolas—you are and I will see you back home in the arms of your loved ones. I have already informed Girion to ready the men for travel at first light. Now that the feast will go forward, I must tell them to go lightly on the ale this eve.” Aragorn chuckled, but his heart was breaking.

“But what of Faramir? I promised to help identify those men who attacked him; how will he find justice if I do not go to Minas Tirith to give testimony?” Legolas began to panic and his voice wavered.

“Faramir can give *his* testimony and descriptions of the brigands since he saw them up close. I did a disservice to you when I placed this burden upon you; I did not know it at the time (or I chose to ignore it), but I wanted you with me so badly, that I exaggerated the importance of your eyewitness testimony. I am ashamed, Legolas, and I don’t expect you to forgive me for it; I do hope that you will accept my apology.”

Legolas was conflicted. He was again angry with Aragorn for manipulating him so, but he was also moved by his sincerity. He wanted to see Ada, Arminas and Oropher again, but he loved Aragorn and wanted to stay with him as well. They belonged together—seeing their son in his dreams made that plain to Legolas. But, now Aragorn was taking him home and this filled him with such sadness. He knew that once his family had him back, he would never again leave Greenwood and he would never again see Aragorn; especially when King Thranduil learns of his Little Leaf’s ill treatment at the hands of these Men. That Aragorn would confess all, Legolas was not in doubt for he was noble and good. *By the Valar—Ada will lock Aragorn away in the dungeons for the rest of his long life!*

“Legolas, what is wrong?” The wood-elf had gone paler than his normal state. “I know that what I just confessed is difficult to hear and, as I said, I don’t expect you to forgive me; but know that my remorse is genuine.”

“I believe you, Aragorn and I do forgive you.” A tear fell and Legolas hastily wiped it away. “I don’t want you to take me home, Aragorn. I wish to stay with you and go to Gondor.” Legolas said firmly.

“I don’t understand,” Aragorn said, truly perplexed. Then, he said, “It is because of what I said about giving up my birthright, isn’t it? Because I said that I would never marry? You mustn’t worry about that Legolas; I will do what is best for Gondor and for me—fret not, A’mael.”

Legolas shook his head, but Aragorn merely smiled and kissed him gently on his perfect lips. “I stink!” Aragorn laughed through his pain; he desperately wanted to accept Legolas’ declarations, but he would not backslide on his promise.

“Will you be alright on your own for a bit—I wish to bathe and rest a while before tonight’s celebration. You have never witnessed one of King Théoden’s feasts, so you have no idea of how much dancing and drinking and carousing we are in store for! We will need all the rest that we can get—for tonight and for our journey.” The last came out a bit strained, but Aragorn smiled to cover it.

Legolas nodded and watched as his love walked away and entered his rooms. After a long pause, just staring at the Gondoran’s closed door, the young ellon turned towards his borrowed rooms. He sat silently on the bed’s edge for a while, staring at his booted feet. After what seemed like hours, he heard his door open—Aragorn was framed by it, his look uncertain.

Legolas smiled warmly, holding out a pale hand which was quickly engulfed by Aragorn’s larger, tanned one. Without saying a word, they climbed onto the huge bed and lay in each other’s embrace, Legolas’ ear against the Peredhel’s chest. Aragorn’s steady heartbeat was calming like the lullaby he hummed earlier. Both males were extremely sad, but they took comfort in the presence of the other, relishing the time that they still had left.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Rivendell

Lord Elrond gave Lord Glorfindel last minute instructions concerning their morning departure for Greenwood. His head was hurting and he frowned deeply, but he ignored it for the time being.

“I think that we should take as small a contingent as necessary; this is a grave matter, but I don’t want to encourage Thranduil to feel the need to go to war over this. Legolas is precious to us all, but I can feel that he is safe and that the Gondorans...” He paused briefly before continuing, “...Mean him no harm. Diplomacy is what is needed here.”

“I understand, Meldir-nin,” The Balrog Slayer said, concerned etched clearly on his handsome face. He could see the pain his friend still felt from long ago.

They both turned at the rustle of soft fabric. Arwen, Lord Elrond’s daughter, stood just inside the doorway, her beautiful face very anxious. Glorfindel acknowledged her presence with a nod, but Lord Elrond’s only response was the tightening of his lips before turning back to the blond warrior before him.

“I wish to leave before first light.” He said firmly.

“As you wish, Hir-nin.” Glorfindel bowed respectfully to his Lord and friend, then left the study.

“Ada?” Arwen called to her father. “Ada, please!”

“What is it that you want, Arwen?” His voice was tired—he did not want to talk with her again. “We said all there is to say last night and the night before!”

She cringed at his tone, his anger barely restrained. “Please do not go to Gondor; there is only pain and strife there. Wounds that have barely healed will be torn open again—you must see that!” Her deep blue eyes were pleading.

Elrond remembered a time when that look could melt his heart and he would be hard-pressed to deny her anything. But times had changed and it took everything within him to find the love he bore for his only daughter. In many ways, he felt that she was no longer a part of his family.

“What would you have me do, Arwen? Abandon Legolas, leaving him alone among the people of Gondor? You may have no qualms about throwing away an innocent child, but I do!” The venom in his voice made her flinch as if he’d physically struck her.

Before King Thranduil had appealed to Lord Elrond to help bring Legolas back home, Arwen’s and her ada’s relationship was one of tense civility; having progressed from fiery anger and then a coldness that threatened to destroy her. But now, the anger was back and Arwen did not know if she could go through the turmoil of the last twenty years again. Many times she contemplated following her mother to Valinor, but she would always reject it, wanting to stay with her father—hoping that they would find each other again someday. Someday, it seems, would never come now.

“Will you never forgive me, Ada? How long will you make me pay for my sins? I have begged your forgiveness over and over, but you refused every time. And now...” Arwen’s whole body shivered as if cold as she looked at the merciless stare etched on the Peredhel’s handsome visage.

“You may have gotten past what transpired, but I have not. Your mother knew that what you and she did was wrong—cruel—which is why she fled to Valinor. Why you stayed is beyond me.” He turned to begin packing away a few books and parchments on Gondoran law and diplomacy as well as some of his journals on healing.

“I had hoped that we would find our way back to each other, Ada—that is why I stayed here with you.”

“You were mistaken. Your presence only serves to remind me of my failures in rearing you. You were always more your mother’s—no—your grandmother’s than mine; your actions proved it. You did not think to consult me before you sent that helpless, precious child away like so much garbage. No—you allowed Galadriel to make that decision; you *and* your mother did.”

“But why can you not *try* to forgive us?” Arwen alternately reached out with her hands before bringing them back, wringing them nervously.

“Because the one to whom you caused the greatest harm should hear you beg for *his* forgiveness. Your mother chose not to stay to make restitution and your grandmother has never shown the smallest bit of remorse.”

Taking a calming breath, Elrond continued. “You say you are sorry—then prove it! Come with me to Minas Tirith and tell Estel what you did. Explain it to *him* for I have heard it all before! If he decides to pardon you, then I may as well—but not now.”

Arwen sat down heavily on a nearby chair. Should she go to Gondor as Ada suggests? Estel’s tiny, beautiful face swam before her eyes. She could still feel him wiggle in her arms, his sweet scent filling her senses as she kissed his hair. *I should not have listened to Grandmother, Estel—I am sorry.* Arwen was afraid to go, for she did not think that she could bear any more hatred or scorn.

“I cannot, Ada—please do not make me go there to face him!” She pleaded.

Elrond smile was cruel, but there was hurt also—and regret. “When could I ever make you do anything you did not want to do? Not when you were an elfling, not ever—I spoiled you and let you stay too much within Galadriel’s influence. All those centuries I let you live with her and her bitterness; I lost you back then—I just refused to acknowledge it. By the time you returned to me, there was nothing of me left in you.”

“That is not true, Ada! I am still yours; I thought that sending him away was the best thing for our family—I believed her. But I still love you and I am yours...”

“*Enough,* Arwen! Saes—enough. I have more packing to complete and there is no time for this.” She could see how weary he was, so she nodded her understanding as he walked from the room.

“Estel....” She closed her eyes as that sweet face appeared to her again; it haunted her so those first years that her Elven dreams were nightmares and offered no peace or rest.

[*Flashback: Lothlórien

Arwen watched in sadness as Galadriel handed a blanketed bundle over to Gandalf. The Istari frowned at the beautiful elleth whose face was as cold as the winter just past.

“The child should be raised in Gondor by his father and his own kind.”

“He is part elf and *is* among his own kind,” Gandalf pointed out.

“If you do not wish to deliver him—”

“I will take him, My Lady.” The wizard moved the soft blanket aside to gaze at the newly born infant, a smile making his face seem younger. But his smile faded as he looked at first Galadriel and then Arwen standing a ways beyond near a mallorn.

Arwen could not hold his gaze and dropped her own, a tear rolling down her pale cheek. She glanced up as the wizard began speaking again.

“Come, Shadowfax—let us be off to Minas Tirith.” Then glancing at Arwen, “A child deserves to be loved and treasured; your father will welcome you.”

With that, the wizard and the King of the Mearas left the Golden Wood. That was the last Arwen saw of the child that would become Aragorn, Heir-apparent of Gondor.]

“Perhaps one day you *and* Ada will forgive me!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Meduseld
Legolas’ eyes refocused from his reverie. He smiled as he felt Aragorn’s breath brush across his forehead, the Peredhel continuing his slumber. Legolas leaned up to stare at the beloved face, marveling again at the strangeness of the sleep of Men. The Gondoran was part elf, but he shared many traits of his father’s people.

*Will our son share as many?* Sadness washed over the wood-elf as he realized that their sweet child may never be born; not if Aragorn follows through with his plan to take Legolas to Lothlórien. *I cannot let this be so!*

Biting gently on his bottom lip, the elf Prince made a decision. Running a pale hand along Aragorn bearded cheek, Legolas brushed a soft kiss against his beloved’s slightly parted lips. Carefully extracting himself from Aragorn’s embrace, the Sinda got down from the soft bed and walked to the bathing chamber. Once the door was shut, Legolas looked about him for—*there!* In a small chest beside the bathtub were bottles of oils in varying fragrances. After sniffing one after the other, the Elven Prince chose one with the lightest of the scents, placing it on a small table.

Legolas began removing first his boots and then his clothes, blushing as he did so. *Courage, Legolas—courage.* Spreading his legs apart, he uncapped the oil and quickly coated his fingers with it. He briefly closed his lovely eyes before reaching behind to his backside. Slender forefingers ran along the cleft seeking the entrance. Legolas remembered his brother’s lessons on how to couple with another male, paying special attention to whether or not a child is to be the result.

Relaxing his lower half and thinking of Aragorn and what the Peredhel meant to him (as well as their love-making from the day before), a finger pushed inside moving in and out. He went easily as he was still very unused to such manipulations. He searched out that part of him that Aragorn touched which gave the elf such pleasure; he gasped as his slender fingers found the spot. Several passes had him panting and aroused; when his entrance was well oiled and relaxed, Legolas removed his fingers from inside of him. Applying more of the oil, he moved his hand towards his front to enter himself again; this time he searched for another hidden part of him.

Few knew that some male Elven Royals had the ability to bear children; and of those few, many knew not the mechanics of how this phenomenon is possible. Though many non-elves believed the myth of Elven promiscuity, the truth was that most elves (especially these gifted Royals) were quite modest and secretive about sex. So it would be quite shocking to most to know that, like females, elves like Legolas had another entrance—theirs hidden inside of the nether portal. It was quite small—more slit than channel—but it was important as it allows the sire’s seed to reach the male womb. And after conception, it will become much larger as the child grows and serve as the birth canal.

It was this slit for which the Prince now searched. His fingers pushed at it to widen it enough so that, when he coupled with Aragorn, the seed could flow through it and their child could be formed. When Legolas was convinced the opening was sufficient for him to conceive, he withdrew his questing digits. He recapped the oil, holding it in his right hand, and left the bathing chamber. Entering the darkening room, Legolas realized that the sun must be setting for weak bands of gold streamed through the large window across the bed and his beloved Aragorn. The Sinda forwent lighting candles, not wanting to chance waking Aragorn until Legolas as ready. As an elf, his feet rarely made noises upon floors, especially ones with rugs; but even so, Legolas stole quietly towards his bed, barely making the mattress dip as he climbed up and straddled the sleeping Gondoran Prince.

Legolas stared at Aragorn with undisguised love. “For our family, A’mael.”

Aragorn never stirred as Legolas undressed him. In fact, he thought he dreamed of soft caresses and kisses against his flesh. A light moan escaped Aragorn’s parted lips as his nipples were suckled and his sides were stroked by gentle fingers, making his back arch towards the loving lips and nibbling teeth. A delighted smile touched the dúnadan’s lips as pleasure shot through his body. Aragorn’s large hands moved down his chest and over his stomach until they came to rest on silken hair. Entwining his fingers in the soft tresses, the Peredhel gently pushed the head down to where his swollen member lay throbbing.

“Ah, yes—more!” Aragorn gasped and then cried out loudly as he was engulfed in warmth. *I dream—what pleasure!*

As the sweet mouth continued to suckle, Aragorn growled deep within his chest from the sheer bliss. His eyes remained closed, convinced that this was some erotic dream like the one weeks before; but a frown briefly crossed his face as his member was released from the wet warmth only to fly open when he felt a different warmth—warmth and extreme tightness.

“Legolas? What...what are you doing? Oh no, beloved—you must not!” But it was too late.

Aragorn could see the pain and determination on the young ellon’s face; determination and love. He could not let this continue or Legolas would do great damage to himself.

“Please stop, my love—you are hurting yourself,” Aragorn pleaded.

“I love you, Aragorn. I do not wish to go to Greenwood, for Gondor is to my home now—with you and our son.”

“Our son? Legolas, what are you saying?” Aragorn grabbed Legolas around the waist, strong hands halting his descent on the Peredhel’s shaft.

“When you held me earlier, before Éowyn and king Théoden came, I saw our son, Aragorn. He was beautiful; he had your hair and your smile and my eyes. We were in Minas Tirith and I reconised him—that he was ours. I knew then that we belonged together—you and I.”

The look of desperation on Legolas’ beautiful face made Aragorn’s heart squeezed within his chest.

“You love me, Legolas?” Aragorn did not trust the hope at first for he wanted this so.

However, the love in Legolas’ beautiful eyes showed the truth of his words. Whether Legolas did see their child or did not, Aragorn did not know; but he did believe the elf wanted a life with him. He hesitated only a moment more before lifting the wood-elf off of him.

Tears sprang to Legolas’ eyes when this happened, thinking that Aragorn did not believe him. But, his breath caught in his throat as he found himself lying on his back and Aragorn kissing his mouth passionately. Legolas threw his arms around Aragorn’s neck and wrapped his finely shaped legs around the Gondoran’s waist.

Aragorn wanted their first time to be special; he wanted to take his time, but the passion he felt in reaction to what Legolas did and was still doing to him spurred him to consummate their love.

“I need oil—“

“Here!” Legolas pushed the bottle into his beloved’s hand. Aragorn arched a brow at the elf.

“You were prepared, weren’t you?” He teased playfully, making Legolas blush.

But soon the teasing stopped and his desire took over. As Aragorn oiled his hand and fingers to coat himself, he gazed deeply into Legolas’ eyes. “Are you certain, Meleth? We can stop this before it goes further.”

“I am certain, beloved—please love me?”

Another ardent kiss and the Peredhel oiled himself thoroughly; then he reached between Legolas’ legs to find his entrance. Finding it well oiled, Aragorn smiled again knowingly at Legolas, eliciting another blush. He kissed Legolas tenderly and moved between the elf’s shapely legs. Aragorn’s strong hands hooked under flawless knees, pushing them back, draping each one over his broad shoulders. Aragorn kissed the flesh of his beloved’s inner thighs before taking himself in hand and pressing against Legolas’ puckered entrance.

Legolas felt a momentary panic when he felt Aragorn’s thick organ enter him again, as the hurt was so great before. However, the pain this time was minimal as the Gondoran Prince took great care with him. By the strained look he wore, Legolas knew that Aragorn was concerned for his wellbeing. Smiling his love and appreciation, Legolas kissed Aragorn, and then urged him onward. Aragorn slowly and carefully resumed his forward motion; Legolas was warm and impossibly tight. The Peredhel stopped when he reached the guardian ring of muscle; then one final push breached it, Aragorn becoming fully sheathed in the tight heat.

Legolas whimpered in pain, but pleasure soon followed as Aragorn found that place that made his elf moan in delight the day before. Taking the Sinda’s legs from off his shoulder, Aragorn held each firmly in his grasp, bending them at the knees before pushing them back, giving him leverage to go deeper into Legolas. With perfect aim, Aragorn struck the spot over and over again, sublime ecstasy spurring Legolas’ body to rise to meet him thrust for thrust. The room grew impossibly loud as their fervor mounted; Aragorn knew that he would not last much longer, but he wanted to make this good for Legolas, too. Taking aim again, the Peredhel Prince hit the tiny bundle of nerves relentlessly causing the wood-elf’s smaller frame to bucked and writhed beneath him, finally screaming out as he found his release.

Aragorn soon followed, the elf’s grasping tunnel milking his plunging shaft, undoing the Gondoran as hot fluids surrounded him—searing, as if marking him as Legolas’ and no one else’s.

They both smiled, satisfied and sated; releasing the slender, pale thighs from his firm grip, Aragorn buried his nose in Legolas’ silky hair—the smell of honey and warm cream filling his soul.

Trembling, Legolas whispered in his soft, husky voice, “I love you, Aragorn—my Husband.”

TBC

Please review.

A/N: It has probably been a while since most of you read Aragorn’s erotic dream in chapter 3; A/L’s coupling here parallels that one to bring them full-circle, so to speak. The next chapter will bring everyone closer to this story’s conclusion; eventually solving the mysteries surrounding Aragorn’s birth.

I apologize for the extra-long delay in finishing this chapter and updating the fic. Many of you know about my family crisis and the long process I had to go through to get back to this point where I can write again. With that said, I will try and be more prompt with getting the next ones done. I hope to be finished in two chapters. But we will see! Thanks for your patience.

Middle-earth Phrase and Term Glossary:

Mithrandir – Another name for Gandalf (grey pilgrim)
Maia – Singular of Maiar...
Penneth – Young one
Daerada – Grandfather
Ellon – Male elf
A’mael – Beloved
Pen velui – Lovely one
Peredhel – Half-elf (elven) singular
Meldir-nin – My Friend (male)
Hir-nin – My Lord
Saes – Please
Estel – Hope (Name given to Aragorn in Canon and also in this AU story.
Elleth – female elf
Mearas – Noble breed of horses of Rohan that lived as long as a Man.
Istari – Another name for wizard.
A’maelamin – My beloved
Meleth – Love/lover