The Price of Pride

Elvish translations

Cuaren – my archer
Fëa – soul
Gwedeir – brothers
Dihena nin – I’m sorry
Nach vain – you are beautiful
Maba nin – take me
Melethron – lover
Meluin – my sweet
Nornin – harder
Tyaavo nin – touch me


Chapter 45


When we finally returned to ourselves and could move again, we went to the river to bathe away the evidence of our passion. We headed back to town warily, alert for any possible trouble. We were not armed bat battle and did not want to find ourselves facing a mob.

The twins were waiting for us at the top of the stairs when we arrived. “Where have you been?” they asked in worried unison.

“Out,” Aragorn replied shortly. He had obviously not yet forgiven his brothers for their meddling that morning.

“We went for a walk in the woods,” I elaborated.

They eyed our weaponless state. “Unarmed?” Elladan asked incredulously.

Aragorn ignored them, walking down the hall to our room. I stopped them from following long enough to explain what had happened in town. “I saw no sign of the mob when we returned just now, but it might be best if Estel and I did not come down tonight. Even if we were perfectly circumspect, enough people saw us yesterday and today at lunch that our mere presence could spark another outburst. I do not want anyone hurt, but I will not stand by and be taken or see Estel taken.”

They nodded. “We will have the innkeeper bring a tray,” Elladan said. “And we will guard the stair tonight.”

Elrohir agreed. “I do not think the innkeeper will stand aside while a mob attacks his inn, but better safe than sorry.”

“We should leave tomorrow,” I suggested.

“Definitely,” they agreed.

Elladan went down the stairs to speak with the innkeeper. I started for the room, but Elrohir caught my arm. “Is Estel well?” he asked.

I must have glowered at him because he added hastily, “With what you saw this afternoon. It was the first time he has seen that kind of cruelty.”

“He was upset, but I think I convinced him not to judge himself by the behavior of these few, but to find Men like himself as a standard of comparison.”

“That is good. Take care of him, Legolas. He is still so young in many ways.”

I thought about how we had taken care of each other, but I said nothing of it to Elrohir. I was sure he did not want those images in his head. Instead, I answered simply, “I will.” As I walked down the corridor to our room, I found it ironic that the twins were so concerned about my causing Aragorn discomfort when I was the one who was feeling the twinges from our lovemaking. Not that I was complaining. It just amused me that the thought had not crossed their minds to worry about me instead of about him.

I wondered what the innkeeper would provide for dinner. I seriously doubted he would have anything up to the standards that I preferred, but I indulged in a brief fantasy nonetheless, of a meal that was made for seduction. I could picture the bowl of strawberries and cream. Envision running the strawberries across Aragorn’s skin, tantalizing him before feeding him the delectable fruit. I could see myself feasting on the cream smeared around his nipples by the sweet strawberries. I could see him returning the caress, licking cream from my skin, sliding strawberries between my lips. And it would not stop there. The strawberries would give way to hands and lips, seeking, finding, caressing sensitive places all over each other’s bodies. I began to imagine how he would taste. How he would react if I took his shaft in my mouth, in hroahroat, if I loved him yet another way. Would he be tangy, almost sweet, like the Elves I had known? Or did Men have another taste to surprise me? Would have even allow such an intimacy? And if he did, would he return it? I tried to imagine the sensation of his tongue caressing my erection, the slender shaft, the thicker head, the sacs at the base. He would be shy at first, as he had been at each progressive stage of our intimacy. Those first hesitant caresses would drive me wild, especially now, having tasted the forbidden fruit. Holding back, waiting for him to explore, to discover, would be aen gen greater torture now because I knew the glories to be found in our joining. Later, as he gained experience, the hesitancy would disappear, replaced by the confidence he so personified. In all areas but his heritage. Once our intimacy was established, I only ever saw doubt again when it came to his ability to fight the last war against the Shadow.

I could not decide as I entered the room which image was more appealing: seducing Aragorn or being seduced by him. Over the course of our relationship, we shared both roles. Even now, I do not prefer one over the other. Each had its own appeal. At that age even, he had such strength that seeing him surrender control, seeing him submit to me, to my strength was incredibly erotic. Giving in to that strength, being the one to yield aroused me just as fully.

Unfortunately, the plain fare that Elladan delivered minutes after I returned to the room offered no strawberries, no cream, and no other options for seduction. I took the tray, thanked Elladan, and settled with Aragorn to eat. It was just as well that the innkeeper did not provide a meal worthy of a seduction for Aragorn eyed the door periodically, clearly concerned about the possible repercussions of our actions. He was not in the mood for overtures on my part.

When we had finished eating, Aragorn set the tray outside and settled back to watch the door. I had no real desire to stand watch inside our room, and saw no need with the twins on watch at the stair. None in this town would get by them. Only their father, Glorfi, an, and perhaps my father could have, and even then not easily.

“We are safe enough for tonight, meluin,” I assured him. “Come to bed.”

He gave no sign of having heard me. I undressed leisurely, though I laid my weapons and pack within easy reach of the bed just in case. Then, I crouched in front of him, completely naked now that we were alone. “Your brothers will keep watch, Estel. Come to bed.”

He took in my unclothed, semi-aroused state. “I do not think I shall sleep tonight,” he admitted finally.

“At least let me hold you, melethron. Come to bed.” He acceded finally, allowing me to undress him and lead to the bed and my embrace. We lay together, drawing strength from each other as we pondered the events of the day. Aragorn’s face revealed his concern as clearly as if he had spoken, at least to me. I later discovered that the face I could read like an open scroll was as mysterious to others as the ways of the Valar. With the tension borne of anticipation gone, the lack of sleep from recent weeks caught up with me and I soon fell asleep with Aragorn cuddled against me. Though I do not know how long he stared at the walls and the door that night, he was sleeping peacefully in my arms when I awoke the next morning.

His eyes welearlear and untroubled when I kissed him awake, free of the worries of the day before. His nearness during the night had affected me and I had regained consciousness hard and aching for release. A quick exploration revealed that he was in the same state. He arched immediately into my hand. There was no haste in the early morning silence, only tenderness. My fantasy from the night before flitted back across my mind. I still had no strawberries or cream, but I could feast nonetheless, starting with his mouth. I framed his face with my hands and kissed him lovingly, passionately, pouring myself, my fëa into the mingling of our mouths. His hands went to my back, holding, then caressing, then clenching as the fires between us grew hotter.

“Tyaavo nin,” he pleaded, breaking the kiss. I slid down his body, settling against his chest.

“How?” I asked as my hands kneaded the muscles around his nipples.

“Aye,” he signed as my mouth descended to join my hands. A little moan escaped as I licked his sensitive flesh. He shifted restlessly beneath me, seeking contact and stimulation. I rose over him, letting my body provide the sensual contact he desired. His hands tangled in my hair, holding my head in place when I would have teased us both by avoiding his nipple.

“Nornin,” he cried when my teeth grazed his tender flesh. I bit down harder, etingting gasps and moans that goaded me on.

I could feel his erection against my stomach. I shifted enough to slip a hand between us, seeking fingers finding the head of his shaft already slick with fluid. I could see shock and curiosity on his face as I brought my fingers to my lips, tasting his essence. A little musky, slightly salty, he tasted the way he smelled: of good clean earth and running ams.ams. That first taste created a craving for more. I kissed my way across his stomach, tongue darting out to sample his various flavors. When my tongue finally flicked across his arousal, he came off the bed with a shout. I soothed him with tender caresses even as I took him in my mouth, encircling him with my tongue, tasting him directly this time. He cried out again, babbling my name as I sucked at his rigid shaft. I moved up and down on his erection, taking more and more until I felt him nudge my throat. He tried to thrust, but I stilled his hips, steadying him. Then I swallowed and took him in all the way, my lips resting against his groin. The heat and suction undid him and he came as I swallowed again, milking every drop from him.

When his orgasm finished, I kissed him deeply, letting him taste himself on my tongue as I rummaged in my pack for the oil. I prepared him as slowly as I could stand with passion still raging in my blood. One oil-slicked finger.

He squirmed against my hand, desire building in him again as I hit the nerves.

Two fingers.

He arched more purposefully, driving my fingers deeper.

Three fingers.

His movements began to take on the same desperation that I was feeling.

“Ae syntrea chen,” he murmured betwwu~ strokes. “Aniron chen.” He was a vision, lying there, legs spread, eyes closed.

I witw myw my fingers, reaching again for the oil to prepare myself. He immediately protested the separation. “Nay. Maba nin!”

My control snapped at his words. I tilted his hips and slammed into him. Much harder than I had intended. He froze, a sharp cry escaping his lips. The sound stopped me cold. I was experienced enough to ride the pain to pleasure. Aragorn was not and I had just caused what was probably a great deal of pain.

“Dihena nin, melethron,” I said, stricken. “Try to relax.” I kissed him gently, hoping the pain would pass. When he relaxed a little, I set about rekindling the desire that had ruled us until my careless act. The weeks of wooing had built a level of trust between us that, fortunately, I had not destroyed. He responded again to my caresses, knowing that pleasure would follow. “Nach vain,” I whispered, encouraging him. When he was finally moving beneath me again, I relaxed my control and thrust gently, waiting to see if the pain would return. He did not tense, welcoming me inside him. He was beautiful, all control abandoned, lost completely in passion, in the passion I had evoked in him. Knowing that he had chosen me over all the Elves who had pursued him, and Elladan had implied that they were many, was a heady thought, spurring me to greater efforts. I would be worthy of his trust, of his passion. Of his love. Even when he made a different choice, I still strove to be worthy of him, of the time we had spent together. Just in case he ever looked my way again.

That time was still months away, though, and at that moment, I knew only the incredible power of his beauty. I set a gentle, steady pace, prolonging our joining as long as possible. I reveled in his tight passage squeezing around me as it to hold me inside as I withdrew only to welcome me again as I thrust back into him. I supported my weight on one elbow, about to reach between us to stroke him to release when he climaxed, covering our stomachs with his seed. The tremors that went through him carried me over the edge as well, my own orgasm rolling through me in deep, powerful waves.

I lost touch for a time with everything except his heated body, my only anchor to reality. I finally came back to the sensation of his hand tenderly stroking my hair.

“Legolas,” he inquired timidly.

“What is it, melethron?” I asked, hearing the concern in his voice.

“Yesterday, when me made love, did I hurt you?”

“A little,” I admitted, but I hastened to add, “It quickly turned to pleasure.”

“Im naer, cuaren.” He was obviously upset.

“You do not ever have to apologize for touching me, Estel. If you do something I do not want or enjoy, I will tell you to stop.”

“But I gave you no choice,” he worried. “I did not know it could hurt.”

“Estel,” I chided gently, “did you tie me down, hold me against my will? Did I say or do anything yesterday, either time, to suggest that I was anything less than completely willing?”

“Ala.”

“Then how can you think I had no choice? Yoe a e a strong warrior, but you are only one Man. I think you would be very hard-pressed to hold me against my will. I could have stopped you if I wanted to. I did not want to. Do not worry about me, meluin. I am fine.”

We lay together for a few more minutes, enjoying the last moments in a bed before we returned to the wild. We had risen and were getting dressed when Elrohir tapped softly on the door. “It is time, gwedeir.”

We gathered our packs to leave. I sparred one last fond glance for the tiny room in the nondescript inn that had opened a new chapter in my life. My memories of that room, and all that happened within, are as clear as if I had been there yesterday, though almost four hundred years have passed since.