The Leaf on the Autumn Wind

He lay deep in the nest, curled in Gwahir’s arms. Gwahir’s breathing was deep as he slept but it did nothing to lull the prince into his own restful oblivion. In fact just the mere presence of his newfound lover conjured up memories that he had been miring through before he was chased by the bandits.

It had been two weeks since his majority celebration, and already he was being plagued by requests for his hand, bed, or titles. His father had pushed him to make a decision when he had overheard his son’s decision to remain single. Thranduil disagreed and the subject became like a canker on their relationship.

On that day, he had been party to a particularly nasty argument with his father that sent him into a rage. Out the door he went, down the halls and into the stables as if he were possessed. Riding hell-for-leather out the front gates of Mirkwood before the king could order close them, Legolas reached the outer reaches of Mirkwood when he was set upon by bandits.

Gwahir’s huge wings acted as a blanket, covering them both and despite the raging storm that could be seen from the opening of the cave, Legolas was completely warm. He snuggled deeper into the nest, drawing the Eagle Lord closer to him. His smell, his taste, and just the fluidness in his movements intoxicated the young elf. He had never wanted something so much as he wanted him then.

“Legolas, lay still.” Groaned the tall being, his wings rustling as he moved to accommodate the younger elf’s squirming. His thigh brushed against Legolas’ nether regions, and the feeling made him gasp. “You are relentless, young one.” Chuckled the feathered lord, moving to lay on top of him.

Apparently, Gwahir had felt the same way, as Legolas’ lovely bottom rubbed against his groin. He could help but laugh as Legolas squirmed more, innocently arousing the Eagle Lord until he was hard against the elf’s hip. His hands fell on his waist, skin smooth and soft beneath his palm and he raised his head to whisper softly in Legolas’ ear, “If you keep doing that, I am going to have to take action.” His lips brushed against his hyper-sensitive earlobe making the elf shudder and squirm more.

Legolas laughed as Gwahir’s fingers flitted along his ticklish sides, and up to his chin. His fingers nudged his head to the side, and the powerful Lord caught his lips in a soul searing kiss. “What are you doing to me?” He mumbled against the young elf’s lips.

**

Sated and totally exhausted, the elf couldn’t even will a thought if it were necessary. He lay curled in the protective cusp of Gwahir’s world, falling asleep content. He had no dreams, but slept like the dead and woke in the early morning to the bright sun gleaming in through the cave. Looking at that sleeping form of his lover, Legolas smiled at the vulnerability that he displayed.

The peaceful mood dissipated with the realization that Legolas had no more need to stay at the eerie. “What is it, my little one?” Asked the lord, peering at his squirming jewel in his arms. “ bot bothers you?”

“I have no reason to stay any longer. I must go back home.” He felt like crying with the thought of actually leaving the eagle lord.

Sighing sadly, Gwahir moved and accidentally let in a cold gust of air, “I am an eagle, Legolas. I fly and if any time you need me all you have to do is stand in that field I found you, and I will whisk you away.” He kissed the elf’s brown and then sat up slowly, stretching sore muscles. He had rather liked his human form, but as Legolas scrambled to get his discarded clothes, Gwahir readied to resume his old form.

“Step behind that enclave there, Legolas, I don’t want you to get caught in the spray.” Legolas stepped behind the little nook but peaked out and watched with curiosity.

It was signalled by the same piercing scream that had brought on his change into human form, but the transformation was much more violent. His muscles rippled beneath tanned skin, wings stretched out convulsively before another scream tore from his throat. There was no way to explain what happened to him, only that he exploded and showered the eerie with bits of skin, tissue and bone. In the tall elf’s spot, stood a great brown eagle struggling to stand. “Gwahir!” Legolas let out a strangled cry as the eagle fell off the edge, caught by a strong wind.

Legolas scrambled to the edge, dropping to his hands and knees as he neared the edge. Gwahir plunged down the cliff face but suddenly his massive wings spread out and caught his body in a drift. Up and up Gwahir soared, and then nearing his eerie, reached his claws out and caught the elf’s torso delicately. He lifted Legolas into the air, his wings whispered against rock as he changed directions and headed towards the forest in the distance.

The elf laughed hysterically, the heights were dizzying but it felt amazing to feel the rush of cool wind through his hair. Suddenly, with the twitch of tail feathers and the tilt of his body, Gwahir launched Legolas into the air, just to move under him and catching him on his back. “This is amazing!” The prince cried, sitting up on his back and spreading his arms.

The cold air bit into his skin, soon painting it with a healthy rosy hue. From this height, it was like he could see all of Middle-Earth. The sun was rising, but the rays painted the skies like a beautiful pearlescent canvas. Clouds scudded across the pinkish skies, great plump white clouds that looked like they were made of whipped cream. Legolas wanted to reach out and touch them, to write his name in the skies, but was slightly disappointed with the eagle descended onto the forests.

Under neath the trees’ heavy leaves, Gwahir delegated his way. Settling on a large branch that could hold his weight. His passenger slithered off of his shoulders to balance precariously on the branch with him. “I hope to see you soon, little elf.” The eagle said gruffly, eyeing him with a massive amber eye.

“You will, Gwahir.” He wrapped his arms around the raptor’s neck before slipping down the tree gracefully. “I promise you!”

If the eagle could smile, he would have but instead, watched the elf pick his way towards the Mirkwood capitol. He spread his wings when the elf was out of sight and took off into the cerulean skies. A joyous piercing cry ripped from the eagle’s throat as he gained altitude and watched down below for any sign of the elf.

Legolas smiled, through the patches in the forest’s roof he could see the eagle following him. He laughed as he approached the gates, still seeing his odd, new lover following him closely. The guards looked at him precariously, and then up at the skies as the young prince entered the halls, their eyes grew wide as they saw the massive shadow swoop over them and then change direction, going towards the mountains.

“Legolas.” It was his father who stood in front of the throne, his cold eyes gleaming with malice, “Where have you been?”

Raising his head, Legolas eyed his father, “I have been seeing to your wishes, father.”

“Oh?” Reluctance caused the elder elf to tense slightly, “You have found a suitable mate?”

A fine eyebrow arched as the dark thoughts churned in his head, what did his father mean by suitable, Legolas wondered, “Aye.”

“Who is she? When will we meet her? Who are her parents?” Thranduil’s questions burst forth, rewarded with only a stony wall of silence and the occasional shrug. “Why are you so close-lipped on this subject?”

He bowed his head, the memories of the previous night flooded him and left him warm and giddy, “Because my suitor promised me not to mention a word.”

“A secret lover? For a Prince of Mirkwood!” Boomed the king, his voice turning scarlet as his anger stirr“The“Then that person is not worthy of you! Forget it and find someone who will not live like a hermit, nor tear you away from your duties as Prince.”

The young elf smiled, “Patience father, it has only been a day and night!”

“I give her until your next Begotten to lure her into the courts.” Thranduil said slowly, his bright eyes holding identical ones in a battle of wills.

Legolas bowed, begging leave and in desperate need of a bath. Down the halls he went, humming softly as he thought of his new found lover. He crept up to his rooms and stood on the balcony, his keen eyes searching the skies for any sign of Gwahir. The wind raked through his hair, but the thrill of it was lost and could not match that feeling of soaring through the cerulean skies.

Turning away from the horizon, he sighed and slipped into the bath that had been brought and poured for him during his wait on the balcony. It was a pleasure to feel the hot water caress his sore muscles, but then he wondered if Gwahir knew of this pleasure. He chuckled, “If he knew what pleasure it was, he might abandon his wings for fins and there would be no way I could lure him from those watery depths.” Sinking lower into the bath, his head dipped below the waterline and he sat up later, when oxygen had become a necessity.

“I think you would abandon your own feet for a fish’s fins, but hard pressed am I to think of any good reason to get rid of my wings.” His voice made Legolas jump, splattering water across his worn robe. Gwahir smiled and kneeled, eyeing the naked elf. “How is your bath, my sweet?”

“What are you doing here?” Legolas cried out in shock, but without waiting for an answer, lunged at the Lord. He was too fast and strong arms wrapped around his neck and he fell into the copper tub unceremoniously.

Gwahir laughed between kisses, the hot water was a comfort indeed but he winced when one of his wings bent awkwardly between them. “I was watching you from afar and could not help but come and taste the smiles on your lips.” He bent his head after shifting his wing and placed a kiss on the elf’s mouth.

“These robes smell disgusting. Take them off.” Indeed they did, the smell of rot pervaded and overrode the soft spicy smell of Jasmine. Gwahir was only too happy to oblige but it was no ordinary feat. Contending with the damp, heavy, moth-eaten material and his own wings, it took both of them and in the process he managed to pull out a few feathers and slosh water on the carpets.

His wings draped over the sides of the tub as he straddled Legolas’ waist. Catching his head between his hands, he kissed the elf again, this time relishing in the fresh taste of his mouth. Tongues pressed together, rubbed and fought one another as hand roamed with an equal ferocity. Passions soared higher than his wings could take him and it was not long before both of them were flushed.

“The water is cold, Legolas, come.” Gwahir stood and took Legolas up with him in his strong arms.

**

Gwahir stood out of sight on the balcony as the servants took the tub away and cleaned up the mess. Eyeing the remainders of a soggy moth-eaten robe, a servant picked it up with two fingers and carried it with a slightly disgusted look on his face.

“They’re gone, Gwahir.” Legolas called settling thicker robes over the lighter, linen ones.

The elf stepped from the chilly evening air, impervious to the autumn winds. “They took my robes.”

“A good thing, too. I cannot let you go out in those again.” He laughed, pouring two goblets of wine and passing one to the stoic lord. “I will get you another if you wish it.”

“That would be good, because I will not turn back ins los lovely room and spoil it, nor will I walk the halls of Greenwood as naked as a day-old hatchling.” Legolas chuckled at his analogy but then realized that Gwahir was staring into the deep red liquid, obviously deep in thought.

He set a hand on his shoulder, “What’s wrong?”

Gwahir jerked his head up, then forcing a smile on his face, “Would you like to come live with me?”

Legolas blinked in surprise, then after composing himself he set the cup on the table and looked at the quiet elf, “I would, but I cannot. My duty is here, with my people and my father.”

He bowed his head, “I thought as much.”

“Stay here with me. No one needs to know who you really are.”

He flapped his wings to make a point, “Would they?” Gwahir then shook his head, the two feathers rustled against his shoulder blades, “I could make a claim on you, but I would not like your father’s court to know, they would never understand. Besides, your father and I have always been at odds with one another.” He said softly.

“You can make a bid for my hand, but father would force you into the open. If you say that the two of you are at odds, then chances are that he will make a fuss.”

Gwahir nodded, “We will see, now I must be leaving.”

The elf walked to a large wardrobe and pulled out a thick dark red robe, embroidered with golden hawks, “Here.”

Taking the robe, Gwahir fingered the hem and chuckled, “Merely coincidence?”

“Completely.”

TBC