This, And My Heart Beside *added ch. 20/part 1*

I'm sorry this took so long, and I sincerely hope you'll like it. I'm not going to be giving each individual chapter its own name anymore; I'm too lazy. :o) No, seriously, it's hard enough for me to come up with a fic title. I'm really lousy at it, so I hope everyone undends nds why I'm just going to be numbering each chapter from now on. Please let me know what you think of this one; it was rather worrisome. As always, thank you for reading.





CHAPTER 14


“Will you sleep all day, my Prince?” Legolas asked. An amused smile played about his lips, as he bent over Isalith; he leaned on his hands, which rested on either side of his friend’s glorious dark head.

Isalith smiled and stretched lazily, extending his arms upward. He clasped his hands behind Legolas’ neck and opened his eyes. Again, they had changed color, and the heart of the blonde Prince faltered as he found himself gazing into the smoky gray depths.


“Indeed not,” Isalith replied. “I was hoping you might like a swim after the morning meal. Ada has Council meetings and Naneth has her sewing guild. We are to be left to our own devices today, it seems.” He smiled enigmatically, as he stroked the soft blonde hair at the nape of Legolas’ neck.

The Mirkwood Prince became suddenly, acutely aware of how hard it was going to be to keep to his plan of waiting and praying for Isalith to make the first move. His slow, caressing touch was already sending shivers through Legolas, and it was all he could do to not bend further down and press their lips together hungrily.

Giving his friend as carefree a smile as he could muster, Legolas said lightly, “A swim sounds wonderful; the day is already quite warm. Shall we go to the pond by the waterfall, where I found you yesterday?”

A mysterious glint shone in Isalith’s eyes when he answered. “No, there is another place, deeper in the woods. I have never shown it to you; Ada expressly forbade it when we were young, but it will be safe now. I wish to show you something there, something wondrous.”

After nodding in intrigued assent, Legolas went back to his room to dress for the morning meal, leaving Isalith to do the same.

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As he led his friend toward the pond he had spoken of earlier, Isalith’s heart began to drum quickly. It would be today, he knew it, *felt* it. He was quite certain that Legolas would assume he remembered nothing of the night before, but the wine had done nothing to cloud his memory. At first, he regretted that he had slipped into a deep sleep before he could declare his love. But the unfortunate interruption had at least given him time to gather his thoughts and words. In retrospect, blurting it out, as he was about to do last night, would have been most unwise.

The two Princes stepped through a thicket of lush foliage into a glade of such beauty that Legolas froze in his steps, inhaling sharply. Isalith looked back at him, smiling at the appreciation and wonder in his friend’s eyes.

A pool of pure blue water stood in the center of the clearing, delicate ripples dancing along its surface. A semi-circle of honeysuckle bushes bordered the opposite side of it, and Legolas’ keen eyes detected the flitting of hummingbirds as they darted from bloom to bloom. The sun filtered through a canopy of trees overhead, streaming down in random shafts of serene light. Legolas stared, awestruck.

“This is not even the wondrous sight I wished to show you,” Isalith said, laughing.

“’Tis wondrous enough,” Legolas murmured as he gazed all around.

“Come, friend,” Isalith said, placing an arm around the shoulders of the other Prince, and leading him forward. After nearly thirty minutes of slow, leisurely swimming, they arose from the water and lay down on large white towels, to dry themselves in the sun. Several moments later, Isalith found that he could be patient no longer. Being so near to Legolas, in this beautiful setting, was more than he could abide. He had to unveil his surprise to the one he loved now, or he feared he would burst.

“I would like to show you now,” was all he said. Legolas opened his eyes and nodded, smiling at his friend’s barely contained eagerness.

“All right, Isalith, I am ready.”

I pray that you are, Isalith thought, as they quickly donned only their leggings, leaving the remainder of their clothing behind to be retrieved later.

Isalith led Legolas behind the honeysuckle bushes, down a small incline, and into a pristine dell. Again, the blonde Prince was forced to stop in his tracks and gaze at the loveliness of the land. A gentle murmuring sound drew his eyes to the center of the glen, where he saw a clear brook meandering and dancing over a bed of polished, multi-colored stones.

“Do you feel it, Legolas?” Isalith asked in a hushed voice, as he stood motionless, eyes closed and head cocked to one side, as though listening for something.

Keeping his voice low also, he replied, “I feel something.”

“Can you describe it?”

Legolas considered for a moment. “Not exactly, except to say that it feels *powerful*.”

Isalith opened his eyes and smiled at his friend, nodding in approval. “Magic lives here,” he said reverently. “*This* is what I wished to show you.” He pointed to the brook before them.

“Come,” he smiled gently at Legolas and held out his hand. His heart hammering, the Mirkwood Prince took it, and was led toward the brook. When they reached the edge of it, Isalith knelt and drew his friend along with him. Taking a small stone from the ground, he handed it to Legolas.

“This is the Wishing Brook,” he explained. “Make a wish, Legolas, and toss the stone in.”

When Legolas looked at him skeptically, Isalith smiled in amusement, but added firmly, “Trust me.”

Hefting the small stone in his hand, Legolas hesitated another few seconds, before casually throwing it into the middle of the brook, even as his heart made its fondest wish. He turned to look at Isalith, and was about to ask “now what?” when he saw his friend’s eyes widen. The raven-haired Prince knelt quickly behind Legolas, clasping his shoulder with one hand, as he pointed to the center of the brook with the other.

“Look quickly, Legolas!” he whispered excitedly. “Do you see?”

The blonde Elf turned his head in time to see his stone *floating* on the surface of the water for a moment, before quietly sinking to the bottom. But how could that be?

“What does it mean?” Legolas asked, awestruck.

Isalith looked into his wide blue eyes. He had not removed his hands from Legolas’ shoulders, and his nearness filled the Mirkwood Prince’s every sense.

“It means your wish shall be granted,” he whispered. “What did you wish for?”

Suddenly fearful that perhaps he *had* misunderstood Isalith’s earlier words and actions, Legolas could not bring himself to answer.

“Will *you* not make a wish?” he asked in an attempt to divert his friend.

The Ilandrian Prince brought up one hand to tenderly cup the face of his beloved. “I have long since *made* mine,” he answered.

There was no mistaking his meaning, but still Legolas was afraid. “Was it granted?” he asked, hardly daring to breathe.

“Would you like to know what it was?” Isalith seemed to be choosing his words carefully, as well.

Legolas kept his eyes downcast. He desperately wished that time would cease its passage, that they could remain in that moment forever, where hope still existed. If one more second passed, and he looked into Isalith’s astonishing gray eyes, he would perhaps not see there what he so fiercely longed to see. And Legolas did not think he could endure that.

“Legolas, will you not look at me?” the deep, gentle voice asked.

Slowly, arduously, the Prince of Mirkwood raised his eyes to meet his friend’s.

“Look deeply, beloved,” Isalith urged, whispering; Legolas did just that, and Isalith granted him entrance, gazing back with guileless, unguarded eyes. When their spirits met and touched, the blonde Prince nearly wept with the relief and sense of belonging that flooded his heart. And now his hand came up to touch the face of his only love, al wor worshipfully.

“It *is* you,” he said in a voice tight with emotion. “I dared not hope it.”

Isalith smiled tenderly. “For many years, hope was all that I had, but now my wish has been granted. I have loved you long, Prince Legolas, and today I was given the opportunity and the courage to confess it.”

“And now *my* wish has been granted. For as long as I can remember, I have longed to hear those words from the lips of the one I was destined for. I love you, my beautiful Isalith,” Legolas replied. A wry smile appeared on his lips and he added, “And I vow to devote myself to the task of making up for being so slow to realize it.”

“You need not,” the Ilandrian Prince replied. “This moment, and each one that follows, is all that matters.”

Legolas buried his fingers in Isalith’s thick black tresses and pulled him gently near, brushing their lips lightly together. “This moment,” he whispered, before tenderly kissing the other Prince.

If any trace of doubt had lingered in Legolas’ mind, it was swept away instantly. This felt right, so right. He had certainly kissed his share of maidens in his lifetime, but never had it been like this. More often than not, he had been left feeling hollow afterwards. It was nothing more than a frivolous way of passing the time; and although the maidens were lovely and sweet, he had felt nothing more than a vague fondness for them.

But this was different; Isalith’s kisses robbed him of all coherent thought. Never had Legolas felt so thoroughly *claimed*. And as he was gently lowered to the ground, he wrapped his arms around his lover’s neck, pulling Isalith along with him. The kiss deepened as their bare chests came into contact, and Legolas was certain that the heat of their skin would surely fuse them together.

When Isalith broke off and began trailing hot kisses down his neck, to his collarbone, Legolas sensed that they were moving toward something from which there would be no turning back, and he welcomed it.

“Will you allow me,” Isalith whispered. His warm breath tortured the heated flesh of the blonde Prince even more. “To make love to you?”

Legolas gazed down at him through blue eyes that were heavy-lidded with passion. “I think I shall die if you do *not*,” he panted.

Isalith smiled as he carefully drew down the waistband of his lover’s leggings, pulling them away completely. “We cannot have that,” he chuckled, “how would I explain it to your father?”

Legolas laughed at that, until he felt himself taken into the hot confines of Isalith’s sweet mouth. A long, low moan escaped him then, as he arched up off of the ground.

“Oh … blessed … Eru!”

Isalith gently stroked his outer thighs as he worshipped him with his lips and tongue, until Legolas quivered and clutched at him blindly. Isalith relented finally, raising himself up until they were again face to face.

“I want to touch you,” the blonde Prince said in a quavering voice, as he reached down between them.

“Oh gods, yes”, Isalith groaned when Legolas began stroking him firmly, kissing and licking his golden throat.

After only a few seconds of this, the raven-haired Elf rose up and gazed with desperate want into the eyes of the other.

“I can wait no longer, my love,” he pleaded. “I must have you now.”

“Yes, ‘tis what I want, too,” Legolas said adamantly.

Isalith stroked stray strands of his golden hair away from his alluringly flushed cheek. “It will be uncomfortable, at first,” he warned gently.

“I am not afraid,” a sweet, reassuring smile spread across the lips of the blonde Prince. He willed himself to remain relaxed, as his beautiful lover slowly eased into him. It *was* uncomfortable, but not unbearable. And when Isalith was fully buried inside his body, they lay perfectly still until Legolas indicated that he was accustomed to the sensation.

“Now, Isalith,” he whispered urgently, and the Ilandrian Prince slowly, gently rocked in and out, determined to bring pleasure to the precious being in his arms. Their union sealed their love forever, as they clasped each other powerfully, and Isalith crooned his name softly, over and over, until they found shuddering, gasping release that left them deliriously spent.

“We belong to one another now,” Legolas whispered, as they lay entwined, laboring for breath. Isalith smiled with sweet contentment.


“Yes, meleth,” he agreed, “but we always have.”

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meleth: love