Ringspell

Chapter 26.
Before the Storm...

The first thing Aragorn noticed, as he slid back into consciousness was the sound of singing. A sweet elvish melody, in a light, clear voice. Before he had even opened his eyes Aragorn smiled. He loved to hear Legolas sing.

The second thing the Ranger noticed, when he finally did open his eyes, was the wolf, Sadron, curled up next to him on the huge bed, staring at him intently, with yellow eyes. Aragorn frowned. It was not exactly what he had hoped to see when he woke.

"Go away." He told the animal, with more conviction than he really felt. Almost seeming offended Sadron leapt nimbly off the huge bed and trotted across the floor, straight to Legolas' bathroom, nosing the unlocked door and slipping silently into the chamber.

Aragorn stared after the animal for a long time, his still tired eyes drawn to the candlelight that shone through the partially open door, tinting gold the tiny drops of steam that drifted out near the floor. He heard Legolas greet the wolf, before returning to his song. Aragorn sighed, letting his eyes fall closed, and his mind drift back to the night before.

Unlike their previous encounter, the memory of this night was fresh and clear and flooded back to him with almost tangible clarity; the way Legolas had looked in the darkness, the feel of the elf's flesh against his own, the sound of his voice and the taste of his mouth. Mostly he remembered the searing heat, the overwhelming feeling of being wrapped up, enveloped inside his lover's body. It had been everything Aragorn had dreamed - and so much more.

Aside from his physical attraction to the elf, Aragorn had liked Legolas from the moment they had met and he considered himself blessed to call the young prince his friend. His intensely emotional reaction to making love with the elf however had caught him entirely by surprise. He had done the deed with friends before but had felt no differently about them the next morning. Now, in the quiet before dawn, tangled in silk sheets and with the scent of lust lingering on his body he realized he could no longer deny the strength of his feelings for Legolas.

Was it love? He was not entirely sure. He had only truly loved once before and then it had been simple, uncomplicated, easy. Arwen passed, inevitably through his thoughts and a sharp pang of guilt disturbed his reverie. He pushed it quickly aside; he would allow nothing to spoil this morning. His lover waited just beyond his sight, and for the first time in a long time, everything was perfect.

He got up, pulling the silk sheet around his waist; for some reason despite their intimacy, the Ranger still felt a need to uphold some vague sense of propriety. On bare feet, he strode across the floor to the partially open doorway. He hesitated before going in, nerves that affirmed the depth of the Ranger's infatuation momentarily shaking his confidence. He took a deep breath, pulled the door all the way open, and stepped inside the candle-lit chamber.

The chamber was quite large, something that failed to surprise Aragorn on this occasion, and rectangular in shape. Fully half the space was devoted to the huge bath, three sides of which were formed by the walls that surrounded it. Set into the opposite wall was a glass mirror which, unbelievably spanned the entire length of the wall, intercepted at waist height from the floor by a long table of dark, polished stone. Sitting by the bath, was the shaggy, gray form of Sadron, the wolf's tongue lolling out of its mouth as it gazed up at him. Sitting in the bath, and gazing at him with an uncannily similar expression, was Legolas. Aragorn smiled. The elf's wet hair clung to his face and shoulders, his cheeks flushed pink with the heat of the water. He looked adorable.

"Good morning." The prince greeted him happily, sliding through the water to the edge of the bath and fixing the Ranger with his intoxicating smile.

"Good morning." Aragorn returned.

"Did you sleep well?"

Aragorn looked fondly at his companion. Legolas had a habit of being particularly cheerful in the early hours of the morning - a tendency not shared by the Ranger, though he did find the young elf's enthusiasm to be somewhat contagious.

"I slept very well, thank you."

Legolas grinned, suddenly producing a thick cloth from beneath the water.

"Will you wash my back?" He asked, holding out the dripping cloth.

Smiling, Aragorn moved to obey, stepping up and taking the cloth from the elf's hand. He was about to sit down on the edge of the bath, when Legolas pushed himself away from the edge, drifting clear across to the wall at the other end, leaving only a swirl of water where he had been. Aragorn froze, momentarily dumbfounded, actually wondering what his friend was doing.

"Come here and do it." The elf coaxed him, gazing seductively up at him through long, dark lashes. Aragorn grinned as realization suddenly dawned upon him. Propriety be damned, he thought, dropping the sheet on the damp floor and climbing into the steaming tub.

The heat was almost scalding at first but Aragorn paid it no heed, wading directly to his waiting elf. The water, which reached waist-height where he had entered it, steadily deepened towards the back of the room, until only his shoulders remained dry. Legolas smiled invitingly as he approached, reaching out and taking the Ranger's hand as he drew near, and meeting the man with a gentle kiss. Aragorn slid his arms around the elf's waist, pulling his lover's supple body against his own, sighing against Legolas' mouth. The contact between their bodies was frictionless and the elf's flesh was silk against the Ranger's wandering hands.

"Did you want me to wash your back, or not?" Aragorn asked gently, when the elf released his lips.

Legolas nodded, smiling and, without warning wrapped his arms tightly around the Ranger's neck, kissing him soundly on the cheek as he did his best to choke the man. Pleasantly stunned, Aragorn returned his lover's embrace, trying hard not to cough against the elf's tight grip.

"Okay, then." Legolas suddenly released him; taking the man's hand and leading him back out to shallower water. He took a bar of scented elvish soap from a ledge against one of the walls and handed it and the cloth to the Ranger, before turning his back on the man without a second glance, facing the wall and reaching back to pull his soaked hair over one shoulder.

Suddenly presented with a stunning view of the elf's back, it took Aragorn a second to remember what he was supposed to be doing. This was partly because water was lapping temptingly at the curve of Legolas' lower back, and partly because the once flawless, pale skin before him was now criss-crossed with countless thin, pink lines, barely visible to the eye, but there nonetheless.

It took little in the way of deduction to figure out what had left the marks on his lover's flesh and the thought of Legolas bent beneath a lash sent him wild with anger. Discipline was one thing - Aragorn himself had been on the receiving end of more than one solid back-hand in his youth, most often delivered by a disapproving Lord Elrond but to take a whip to a child's back was another thing altogether and of all people, Aragorn thought, Legolas deserved it the least.

"Is something the matter?" The elf asked, over his shoulder.

Aragorn held his tongue. There would be time to speak of such things later. For now he did not want to upset Legolas, he only wanted to please him.

"No." He lied, working a quick lather of soap in the cloth. He reached up and rubbed the cloth across the elf's shoulders, watching as little, white bubbles ran in rivers down Legolas' back to pool around the prince's waist. Then, with infinite care he began to clean the marred flesh in long, gentle strokes. Legolas sighed contentedly, resting his forehead against the wall, relaxing under the man's attention. Pleased by his lover's response, Aragorn moved closer behind the elf, leaning into whisper into the delicately pointed ear.

"Have I told you, you are beautiful?" He asked.

Legolas giggled softly at the question, leaning back against Aragorn, his soapy back slick against the Ranger's chest.

"You have, Estel." He answered, reaching back and wrapping the man's arms around him like a blanket.

"Have I told you, today?" Aragorn amended.

Again the elf laughed, the sound music to the Ranger's ears.

"Today? I do not think so."

Smiling, Aragorn turned Legolas to face him, cupping the young elf's face in his hands, placing several wet, forceful kisses upon his cheeks.

"Beautiful," he said between kisses, "does you no justice, Prince. You are flawless. You are divine."

Another giggle escaped his lover's mouth.

"You go too far, Estel."

Aragorn loosened his hold on his captive, leaning back a little to better see his elf's eyes. Legolas was smiling, a little nervously Aragorn thought, his dark eyes flickering about the room, almost seeming embarrassed by the man's declarations. That was fine with Aragorn, the elf had made him squirm plenty of times. Reaching up, he pushed a lock of damp hair back from Legolas' face, wiping away, with his thumb the trail of moisture it had left on the elf's cheek.

"You are ambrosia.*" He said, leaning in to kiss his companions wet lips, lingering against the soft flesh. "I love you."

The elf's nervousness disappeared, overpowered by the Ranger's affection and Legolas smiled, happiness shining in his eyes.

"And I love you, Estel." The prince returned in his musical voice. "As I love the sun and the air that I breathe."

Beyond words, Aragorn kissed Legolas again, deeper this time, moved to worship his beloved elf. Legolas returned the kiss with almost euphoric delight, wrapping his arms around the Ranger's neck and leaning heavily against him, reveling as he often did, in the pure, latent strength of the man's body.

They stayed this way for some time, lingering in the luscious sensuality of their embrace. Like virgins at play they explored each other; tasting and touching, unhurried and uninhibited, their bodies made slick with soap. Aragorn's already throbbing erection pressed firmly into the elf's belly and Legolas' body responded eagerly. Yet, neither made any move to advance their courtship, both seemingly content just to be close to each other, in the quiet hours before dawn.

Finally, after what seemed like hours, Legolas pulled out of the love-play, reminding the Ranger somewhat reluctantly that there was little time for such things this morning, as the Hunt would soon begin. The elf's conscientious interruption did little to halt their frolicking though, as they set about rinsing the soap off each other's bodies, prolonging the carefree moment for as long as they could.

When there was no more excuse for remaining in the water they turned their attention to drying themselves. This began in the bath chamber but the combined puddles of water dripping from their bodies quickly became perilous on the smooth, stone floor and they moved the process out to the bedroom, where they meticulously wiped each other down, from head to toe, Aragorn eliciting several uncontrollable giggles from his companion, as he made sure not a drop of moisture remained between the prince's toes.

Out of nowhere, a horn sounded. It was one of those that had summoned the Hunters to the mountain and it blasted two short, powerful notes before again falling silent.

"We should get ready." Legolas told his lover, gently. Aragorn sighed, pulling the elf into a warm embrace. He did not want this morning to end. Legolas kissed his cheek, lovingly, sharing the Ranger's reluctance to return to the real world. Moved almost to tears by the simple joy he had found in his young prince, Aragorn caught the elf's mouth, the kiss impassioned and demanding response. Legolas complied, sucking the Ranger's tongue into the warmth of his mouth and pressing his body firmly against the man's, and his hard sex betrayed his yearning. Suddenly struck with inspiration, Aragorn broke from the kiss.

"How long do we have before we must go?" He asked, as the elf nuzzled stubbornly into his neck.

Legolas shrugged, surreptitiously rubbing his body against the Ranger, stirring the man's own lustful heat.

"How long do you need?"

Aragorn grinned, his face flushing pink, under the elf's wanton caress.

"Not very long."


--- Fade To Black ---


* - Just in case u're not familiar, ambrosia means "something with an especially sweet flavour or fragrance." It’s from Greek mythology and was the food of the gods, thought to confer immortality to those who consumed it. Fountain of youth stuff. I know, there's no Greek gods in M-E but frankly I don't care. Every other word in the English language has its roots somewhere in Greek or Latin or whatever anyway. And I luv that word. It's so sexy as a descriptive term.... ambrosia.... :)

A.N. - sorry for not putting a fully-fledged sex scene in there. It just seemed to soon. I think it gets boring if every second page has cocks and asses in it. Anyhoo... that's my defense, your honor, and I'm sticking to it. Pls don't hate me.