Warrior Elf Series (COMPLETED)

Pairings: Aragorn/Legolas, Eowyn/Legolas

Rating: NC-17

Warnings: Het scene, M/M sex scene (as usual… it’s my trademark! :P) and again a sad bit in the end.

Summary: The Maiden of Rohan… that’s what they call her. Lol… if you know me… she won’t be a Maiden for long! *snigger*

Beta-Reader(s) : Jen for the first half and Jayme for the second.

Warrior Elf Part 6 - Eowyn
==================

The great doors swung open but it was by no means a gesture of welcome for Rohan’s uninvited guests. They were to be led in without their weapons, Grima Wormtongue had said, a malicious spark flashing in his eyes. ‘Death will come to the person who disobeys this command!’ The King had said naught as he sat upon his throne, bent and wizened: a mere shell of the Man he once was… a Lad Lady despaired. Eowyn was her name, and sorrow embedded itself like a splinter in her heart.

She stood watch from a distant, dark corner of the hall, somewhere behind the King’s chair, as their guests approached the King. Tall they were; save one, and they moved with a grace that no man in Rohan could ever match. There were four, one of whom was old, leaning heavily upon his walking stick as his three strange companions followed him, their heads held high and pride lined their every movement. One was short in stature, his head barely reaching the old man’s chest. The other two were as different from the other as night and day, one of which was dark and the other fair. Their lack of weapons did nothing to diminish the air of danger that surrounds them as even the walls of the hall seem to tremble and quake at their very presence.

“The courtesy of your hall is somewhat lessened of late, Theoden son of Thengel,” the old man said, his voice was clear and strong despite being so dependant on the staff upon which he leaned on. Grima bent towards the King’s ear, whispering his words of evil. “Wherefore should we strip ourselves of our weapons? Far have my companions travelled from their homelands to give aid to Rohan: Legolas the Elf from Mirkwood, Gimli the Dwarf from the deep cavern of his Mines and Aragorn son of Arathorn, Elendir’s heir of Gondor. Will you not give them the welcome that they rightfulesereserve?”

But it was not the King who addressed the old man and his company. “It is doubtful that you or your companions are welcomed here, Gandalf Stormcrow. Why indeed should we welcome you? *Lathspell* I name you, Ill-news; and ill news is an ill guest they say,” laughed Grima, gazing upon the travellers with thinly veiled contempt. There was a tension so thick in the silence that ensued that one would think it possible to cut through it with a knife. The Man named Aragorn clenched his hands into tight fists and the Dwarf emitted a low growl of warning. The Elf did nothing, but a fire seemed to burn in his eyes, the blue depths reflecting the anger at the insult his friend took.

The change in the old man was stunning. Casting aside his tattered cloak, he stood up, tall and straight and leaned no longer on his staff. “Be silent! Keep your forked tongue behind you teeth. I have not crossed fire and death to bandy crooked words with a witless worm.” And with that, he raised his staff, thunder rolling threateningly in the skies and sunlight was blotted out from the windows, the hall plunging into darkness. For the moment only the wizard could be seen, standing white and tall in the midst of the dark and then with a wave of his hand, the gloom was slightly dispelled. But Wormtongue was sprawled upon his face, unconscious. Theoden rose slowly from his throne, his body swaying.

Eowyn hastened to her uncle’s side, taking his arm and with faltering steps, the man moved towards the wizard, eyes fixed intently upon Gandalf’s own blue ones. “Gandalf,” he murmured, his eyes clearing with recognition and his back straightening with every moment. It was as if he drew strength from his visitor and Eowyn’s heart soared with gladness as she looked at the travellers, eyes holding onto each of theirs with silent thanks. Her eyes met the Elf’s and they held: Green looking into that fiery blueness – anshivshiver ran down her spine.

“Dark have been my dreams of late,” Theoden said, “but I feel as one who is newly awakened.” The wizard smiled slightly before turning to Eowyn. “Leave him a while to me, Lady, for I wish to speak to him of some pressing matters. Do not worry, for I will take care of him.” Eowyn nodded her head silently before turning and walking slowly out of the great hall. However, as she passed the doors, she looked back.

Grave and thoughtful was her glance as she looked upon the King’s face and it was under that full light of the day that the four friends beheld Eowyn, the Maiden of Rohan and they all thought her fair. Her hair was the colour of gold, cascading like waterfall down her back. Her body was slender and delicate, yet strong as steel, garbed in her flowing white robe lined with silver. Her green eyes slid towards Legolas and there is stayed, fixed intently upon his fair face.

The Elf was as still as stone, his mouth unsmiling but there was a certain kindness and warmth in those wise eyes. Eowyn just stood there, barely moving, and then the lady turned swiftly away as if she could no longer bear to look at the Elf and she fled outdoors into the safety of the afternoon sun where the rays warmed her rosy cheeks – hiding a certain flush that was evoked by the Elf’s enigmatic eyes…

**********

War was imminent; Isengard had been unleashed and the enemy is strong beyond mortal reckoning. It was agreed by both Theoden and Gandalf that they must hasten to the west as soon as possible, towards Hold of Dunharrow; to face their enemies head on. The old, the women and the children will fly to seek refuge in the mountains should they fail to return. This task, Gandalf had said, must be done soon and they must leave early the next morn towards the fords of Isen. And so it began.

Preparations were made for their journey. All men and strong lad who were able to bear arms were summoned to be ready by the break of dawn the next day. Grima Wormtongue was banished from the land of Ro and and Eomer, brother to Eowyn, was freed from the prisons that Grima sent him to. The visitors were in turn bestowed with gifts; shining mails, helms and round shields: their bosses overlaid with gold and set with precious stones.

In the meantime, a feast was held while the servants made ready the sleeping quarters for the King’s guest to rest. It was a very much welcomed gesture for they were tired and hungry. Gimli the Dwarf was especially happy, helping himself to the fine dishes that Edoras could offer and drank deeply from his wine goblet that which Eowyn herself had filled. The Elf sat next to the Dwarf, opposite Aragorn. He was silent and would accept neither food nor drink.

Many a time the Maiden saw Aragorn’s repeated attempts to draw the Elf in a conversation, but the answers he received were always polite but distant in nature. Gandalf, Theoden and Eomer spoke to one another of the perils that they were sure to face, oblivious to the drama that unfolds between Man and Elf. Gimli was too engrossed with food to think of anything else.

Suddenly the Elf stood, and begged leave of the table, giving the excuse that he was weary and wished to rest. The female attendants gladly showed him to his room, tittering lightly as they followed him like a puppy would follow its master. Aragorn’s eyes followhe Ehe Elf, his face holding an inscrutable expression and his eyes were guarded.

Eowyn approached him. “Hail to thee Lord Aragorn,” she murmured as she proceeded to fill his cup with more wine. The Man smiled, but his eyes were sad and troubled. “Hail to thee, Lady Eowyn,” he replied as he looked upon her face. Eowyn hesitated before saying, “I hope that your friend is feeling well my lord? He did not seem to touch any of the food or drinks that were offered to him.” Aragorn seemed to balk at the question but was spared at the need to answer when the Dwarf gave a snort of disgust.

“That Elf does not eat anything other then those tiny wafers that he calls food, my lady. But do not be offended. It just means that there would be more share of the feast for me!” he declared, giving out a loud and resounding belch. Aragorn managed a weak smile but Eowyn was silent as her eyes followed the Elf’s retreating back.

There was no other matter of interest that took place at the dining table after that.

**********

Night had fallen and yet the Eowyn could find no rest in her room, tossing and turning upon her bed. Legolas. His face haunted her very thoughts, robbing her of sleep. Fair he was of face, with hair flowing like silk upon his shoulders. Yet he was still very manly to the eyes of the Lady, his jaw chiselled and his eyes were those that see too much yet revealed too little. Those eyes could seduce a saint. Blood ed ted to her face once more at her sinful thoughts. Finally, giving up all attempts of trying to sleep, she rose from her bed. Swiftly putting on her silk robes over her nightgown, she then headed towards the kitchens. She would see to it that the Elf would not go to bed hungry tonight.

**********

“You cannot avoid me any longer, Legolas,” said the voice in a quiet tone. Legolas just stood by the balcony, looking out to the Misty Mountains beyond Rohan. Hd not ant answer and remained silent, his mind and heart a thousand miles from where his body was. Aragorn entered the Elf’s sleeping chambers, shutting the door firmly behind him and approached the silent figure. In a few steps he narrowed the gap between him and the Elf, standing so near behind him that Legolas could feel the warmth of the Ranger’s chest against his back. His body tensed at the intimate closeness of their bodies, fingers gripping the railing so tightly that it bled white.

Gently, Aragorn removed one of those hands from its death grip around the railing. He spread the fist open, marvelling at its silken texture and pressed a kiss on the open palm. He could feel the Elf’s eyes upon him, watchful and wary. The Man continued pressing tender kisses upon the hand, his lips brushing against those tense fingers. Slowly, he wrapped his arms around the stiff form, burying his face against the fragrant hair, inhaling deeply. The Elf shrugged out of Aragorn’s embrace, tension making his movement jerky.

“I cannot do this Aragorn. Please do not ask it of me,” he said, his voice flat, his eyes seeming to focus upon nothing at all as he continued to turn his back to the Man. Ignoring the flare of pain that burst in his heart, Aragorn once more took the Elf’s hand, pressing it into his. Legolas continued to look away. Glancing down at the Elf’s upturned wrist, the Ranger allowed a grim smile to play upon his lips.

“What is it about Boromir that binds you to him? I do not think that he have ever loved you nor have he told you of any feelings that he might have had for you. It is not his way,” Aragorn said as he stared at the thin bracelet that the Elf wore around his wrist. It was made from the lock of Boromir’s hair. Legolas stiffened. “Speak nothing of what you know naught of,” said the Elf with a clear warning in his voice and his high cheekbones were flushed with spots of anger. Aragorn gave another bitter smile.

“I may not know what it is that had transpired between you and Boromir, Legolas. But I think that I know enough to say he never did want you for anything else other then the treasures you could offer to appease his own needs,” he murmured. A look of pain flashed across the Elf’s face before he held his expression firmly in check.

“That is a lie,” came the voice, as cold as the frost.

“Is it?” Aragorn said, his eyes narrowing with his frustrns ans as he tightened his hold on the Elf’s hand. “What has he ever done for you safe fulfilling your lusts and desires? What sacrifices have he made? What tenderness did he show you when he took you out in the open, rutting like beasts amongst the leaves?” His voice was soft and silky but dripped heavily with sarcasm… and pain. If it had not been for that note of pain in his voice, Legolas would have killed him with his bare hands.

The Elf now turned towards the Man, observing him from below his lashes. “Why are you saying this? What have I ever done to hurt you, Aragorn?” he murmured, his facial expression guarded but a hint of sorrow laced his words. Aragorn gave a short laugh that held no mirth; just bitterness and anguish.

“You speak of hurt? You do not know how much you hurt me, Elf,” Aragorn choked out as he held the unresisting hand against his heart, pressing his forehead against Legolas’. “Whenever I look into your eyes and see the love that I could never have – it hurts me. Everyday that you retreat into your shell, every moment that you distance yourself from me – you hurt me. Every minute and every second that you wear Boromir’s token around your wrist – you hurt me. And –,” Here his voice cracked and he had to pause to clear his throat. “And when you choose to forget and deny what we had… what we did at the stream – it hurts me most.”

Legolas started to look away again, pain and confusion warring across his features. But Aragorn grabbed the Elf’s chin, gently but firmly turning the face towards his. Legolas had no choice but to look into the stormy blue-grey eyes of the Man. “Nay, Legolas, do not turn from me. I cannot bear it! Love me not if is suits you… but please, do not turn from me!” said Aragorn, his voice sounding harsh to his own ears. Legolas’ eyes seemed to soften in pity and he raised his hands to cup the Ranger’s face, peering into those eyes that were brimming with unshed tears.

“I’m sorry,” he said achingly as he leaned forwards, pressing his body agt Art Aragorn’s. His lips brushed against the Ranger’s trembling ones. With a hoarse groan Aragorn parted his lips, allowing the Elf’s sweet tongue to slip between them as he suckled on its tip. And then, with shaking hands, he led Legolas towards the bed and this time, the Elf did not resist.

**********

Eowyn’s steps faltered as she approached the Elf’s bedroom, balancing the tray of food that she held in her hands. She knew not what might satisfy the Elf’s palate, so she just took a little of everything that was left from the feast. Nervously, her hand crept to her hair and as she tried to smooth away any tangles. Taking a deep, calming breath, she moved slowly and silently towards the door and lifted her hand to knock. Suddenly she frowned; her head tilted to one side as she listened intently, her hand frozen in mid-air.

There were sounds coming from behind the closed door – heavy breathings and an occasional, throaty groan… of what? Eowyn wondered if the Elf was ill or in pain as worry creased her fair brows. Her hand rested hesitantly upon the door handle and then, she pushed it open slightly – the sounds that were muffled by the door now seemed to be twice as loud. Soft wet sounds and little moans accompanied by the frantic rustlings of the sheets. The frown deepened upon her face and she peered into the gloom of the sleeping chamber behind the safety of the door… and her gaze was immediately drawn to a corner in the room.

Legolas was on the bed. He was not alone. Her heart skipped a beat before escalating in a mad rush; her eyes widening in horror as they registered the outline of two figures, twisting and undulating wildly between the sheets. Their mouths were opened wide like baby birds as they seem to devour each other’s lips, the bed creaking in time to their torrid movements. It was as if they were forged together… the Elf and the Man, their bodies pressed so tightly against one another that they seem to be one.

Their union was passionate and desperate in nature as both males sought to gain dominance. One moment Legolas was pinned to the bed and the next moment he twisted his hips and straddled Aragorn, dragging his heated flesh across the Man’s, eliciting another groan. Their breathing quickened with every passing moment, and Eowyn could literally feel the tension that was mounting between the two straining bodies. It was so thick that she felt as if she could reach out and pluck it from the air.

A flash of sweaty skin and another keening groan. Legolas was on the bed. Naked. He was not alone. It was too much. And so, she fled into the night, running away from what she had seen… but the sounds stayed in her mind, as if it were making a mockery of her own awakened desires.

**********

Eowyn felt as if she were on fire. Her body seemed to burn for something she could not put a finger to as her nipples hardened into almost painful nubs that her robes did little to conceal. An uncomfortable pressure seemed to build between her thighs and it was so intense that she could have cried out at the agony of it.

Desperate to elude the strange sensations that stirred up in her body, she ran towards the back door of the castle and flung it open. The night air was a cool balm as it caressed her heated cheeks like a lover’s hand. Her agitated breathing slowed but the fires in her body was far from put out. Unbidden, her mind strayed to the scene in the bedroom. Legolas. With his armour and weapons, he was a sight to behold – a warrior elf that exudes danger and an air that could bring his enemy to their knees.

But without those clothes as he lay on the bed, naked as the day he was born, the Elf was devastating to her senses. Drawing a shuddering breath into her lungs, she then crept amongst the shadows to the one place that she knew she could seek comfort from.

**********

It was cold, but she welcomed the chill as the water sluiced against her heated flesh. The sound of the falling waterfall cascading gently onto the rocks was soothing to her nerves as she swam in the lake. It was secluded, blocked from view by many tall trees and no man was ever allowed to enter this place for it was where Eowyn usually took her baths. Night time was her most favourite time of the day because after bathing, she liked to lie on the huge, smooth rocks and count the stars that twinkled in the black skies.

But for now she swam, desperate to get rid of the strange tension in her body. And finally when she grew tired, she waded towards her favourite perch and stretched naked on top of it like a cat basking in the sun and lay down, slightly breathless. She closed her eyes, allowing the familiarity of her sanctuary to wash away all her troubles. But her peace was always interrupted by someone whose beauty surpassed mortal belief; someone with eyes as blue as the skies in daylight. Someone whose strong back muscles rippled with every thrust he made into the Man’s body.

Eowyn’s eyes flew open as she grew aware of the tingling sensation between her thighs. Mildly surprised, she reached down between her legs and felt the stickiness that had formed there. She frowned in confusion as she stood up on shaky legs. Wondering vaguely at it, she then waded back to the shore to put on her robes.

The night air was even colder than the water and she shivered as the chill seemed to penetrate into the very core of her being. Swiftly, she walked back through the trees to get back to the castle. But as it was dark and she could not see clearly ite ite the full moon that shone brightly from the night skies.

She tripped over an exposed root and with a cry of pain, she fell to the ground. A hiss escaped from her clenched teeth as she struggled to sit up and inspect the damage that was done to her ankle. It hurts with every move that she tried to make and she bit her lips to hold back the moan of pain that threatened to spill from her lips. She wondered if it was broken…

“Are you hurt, my Lady?”

Eowyn let out a startled scream as she looked around wildly to find the source of the voice. But there was no one in plain sight. She should have been in fear of her life. She should have been in fear of her own safety. But all she felt was acute embarrassment for being seen in a thin robe that clung wetly to every contour of her lithe body, leaving nothing to the imagination. “Who’s there? Show yourself!” she demanded and her voice was strangely hoarse. And a figure dropped down from one of the nearby trees from whence she sat.

The breath caught in Eowyn’s throat as the figure moved towards her with a familiar catlike grace. Legolas. The darkness did nothing to take away the brightness of his eyes or the soft glow of his skin. His eyes were upon hers and she shuddered with the intensity of his gaze. Eowyn groped around for something to say as a blush threatened to form upon her cheeks but she was spared the inconvenience when Legolas knelt before her and took her swollen ankle in his hands.

It was as if she had forgotten how to breathe. The Elf’s tender administration of her foot was soothing as he seemed to rub away the hurt with his hands and his head was bent. He was so close. She wondered what it would feel like to run her fingers through his silken tresses. And then he lifted his head and fixed his eyes upon hers.

“You have twisted your ankle. But ‘tis not a bad sprain,” he said. He frowned for a moment as if in thought. “It is not wise to come out at night, my L You You should have stayed in your room.”

“I could not sleep,” she said shortly, tossing her head with a mock show of courage as she felt her cheeks burning once more. Legolas merely tilted his head and regarded her with a solemn expression. Slowly he reached out and tucked a stray lock of Eowyn’s golden hair behind her ear. The gesture brought about a twinge in her heart and the sensation travelled all the way down to the pit of her stomach and to that secret place between her thighs.

“I saw you,” he said gravely, his eyes boring right into hers, watching the guilt that flashed across those expressive green eyes. “Y-you saw me?” she managed to stammer, her heart seeming to drop all the way to her toes. The Elf nodded his head slowly, never taking his eyes off hers. She swallowed hard. And she swallowed again, but no words seemed to come out.

“You should not have come to my room,” he said, his fingers lightly traced patterns on her bruised foot. There was a short silence. “Why diu nou not leave when you saw that I was not alone?” he asked curiously, a small frown upon his fair brows. Eowyn hesitated… and then decided to tell the truth.

“I do not know,” she whispered as her eyes traced the line of his jaw. She peered into his face and her heart constricted with the knowledge that she had come to care for this beautiful creature. It was as if he had cast a spell over her and she could no longer fight against the rising emotions within her breast. And she heard herself say… “But I do know that if I do not come to you tonight, I might never see you again.”

The Elf smiled a sad smile as he lowered his gaze towards his fingers that were still stroking her foot. And he spoke so softly that Eowyn had to strain her ears to listen. “And does that sadden you my Lady?”

Mustering all her courage, she lifted her hand and laid it against his cheek. He looked up and their eyes met and held. She then did what she had wanted to do since the first time they saw each other; she stroked the Elf’s cheek, feeling the skin that was smooth like her own and yet under it, she could feel the steel line of his jaw. The Elf was beautiful. He was perfect. And she was falling in love with him.

“Yes,” came the answer. It was so easy to love him. Too easy. But she could never really have him for her own. Not even when his lips covered hers in a gentle but thgh kgh kiss. Not even when his tongue swept enticingly between the soft petals of her lips. Not even when she threaded her fingers through the mass londlond hair. But at least… at least this night she would be able to pretend that Legolas was hers. Just this one night.

Legolas was sensitive to her every need. His hands were magic upon her skin, coaxing and seducing with his light touch. His breath was warm and his eyes were dark with passion. Eowyn felt like the most desirable and most beautiful woman in the world to be able to evoke such emotions from the Elf.

He dragged his lips down the column of her neck and she bit back a moan of rapture. But that she could not do when Legolas cupped her firm breasts that were begging for his touch. Her first cry of passion surprised her and she fought hard to stop herself from voicing out how much she liked having the Elf’s hands upon her body. Legolas broke off their kiss and Eowyn blinked at the loss. He smiled down at her as he ran his hand once more through her long golden hair.

“Nay, my Lady. Do not fear to tell me how much you want me. It gives me more pleasure to hear you cry out for my caresses.” he whispered and Eowyn trembled at those words. He pushed her then upon the soft ground and took hold of her uninjured leg. Their eyes met once more and Eowyn dared not look away… no even when he lifted her toes to his lips and sucked gently at them. It was bliss. His tongue darted between her toes, laving them with wet warmth and she arched her back when his traced the slim line of her calf with those lips.

He clo closer now… so close to where she needed him most. But he was meticulous in his exploration of her body. He licked and nibbled his way up to her thighs and Eowyn felt herself growing moist and hot at the junction of her thighs. She looked away, hoping that the Elf would not see how much she needed him to touch her there. But Legolas gently turned her face towards him and in her green eyes he saw all the love and desire that the Lady had for him. And the Prince of Mirkwood was hud, ad, awe registering upon his face.

“Do you want me so much? Then I shall give myself to you.” he said, his voice husky with desire. He straightened and started to take off his tunic. Eowyn could not look away. He was a sight to behold… he was lean and yet there was no hint of weakness in those strong shoulders and the hard muscles of his chest.

“You are beautiful.” she murmured as she traced a line from his chest to his stomach, causing a muscle to jump there. Legolas smiled wryly. “It is I who should sing my praises for you, fair Maiden. It is a boon to be complimented by you indeed.” He leaned forward to nip gently at her earlobe before he whispered, “So what can I do to return the favour you have bestowed upon me?”

Eowyn just stared into those eyes. “Say my name.” The Elf stared back but did not say a word. Eowyn pressed her cheek against his, her slender arms wrapped around his neck. “Say my name, Legolas. You were so distant and lonely, always lost in your own world and never speaking more than a word or two. It will be the greatest gift indeed to have my name upon your lips.”

“My Lady..” he sighed, the sound held such loneliness and sorrow in them that the Lady felt tears prick her eyelids. “I cannot replace the person you hold so close to your heart.” she murmured as she fingered the bracelet on his wrist. “But I cannot bear for you to take me, all the while thinking that I am someone else. I have to know that for tonight at least, it is me you want, Legolas. Not some vessel to pour out your hurt. Just me.”

Legolas closed his eyes tightly, on his face an expression of naked pain as he trembled with conflicting emotions. And then she heard it. It was a choked sound but she heard it and was glad. “Eowyn” he said, his voice catching in his throat. Swiftly she untied the bracelet from his wrist and placed it carefully on the Elf’s discarded tunic. Legolas just watched as she smoothed the lock of hair on top of the fabric and when that was done, the Elf held her close to his heart.

They kissed with a passion so intense Eowyn could have swooned from the sheer pleasure of it. Their tongues met andolasolas suckled at its tip. Slowly, so as to not frighten her, Legolas undid the laces that bound her robe together and slipped it off her slim form. It was hard to tell who was lovelier… Legolas in his ethereal splendour or the golden beauty that sat naked before the Elf.

“Eowyn” he murmured as he brushed his lips against her breast causing her to cry out. His tongue lashed out to lap at her turgid nipples and when he covered one taut peak with his hot mouth, her back arched as if she wanted to lose herself in the depth of his mouth. He suckled her deep and hard, a long bittersweet tug that corresponded with the ache in her belly. And then he paused, blowing cool air over the sensitised tip only to begin again on the other nipple.

He began his maddening assault to her senses, kissing his way down to the centre of her desire. Their eyes locked for a heartbeat before the blond head bent down and Eowyn felt his tongue lapping against the soft folds of her flesh. A moan was wrenched from her throat as her hips moved frantically, desperate for something she could not identify. Her chest heaved with each breath she took as Legolas worshipped her with his tongue. And then he found the tiny bud of her femininity and Eowyn’s cry rang out loud and desperate, the sound cutting through the peaceful night air.

He was relentless, licking and sucking until Eowyn thought that she would die from the havoc it wreaked upon her body. Heat built up at her loins and she strived to reach out for something she could not understand. And then Legolas stopped and she cried at in dismay, reaching out for her lover. Legolas held her in his embrace and stroked her hair soothingly.

“Nay, be patient.” he whispered, his voice strained as he tried to reign in his passions and his hands went to his belt. Eowyn held her breath as Legolas removed his leggings and her eyes flew towards the engorged organ. Tentatively, she reached out to touch it. It was hard as steel and yet when she stroked the length gently, she realized that it felt like velvet. Legolas bit back a groan as he allowed her to explore his body. Her inexperienced fingers caressed the head of his member and gently cupped the sacs beneath it.

Legolas gave out a lusty cry when her tongue flicked at the head of his shaft and his hflexflexed restlessly when she pressed soft kisses along its length. “Eowyn, no more… you will undo me.” he gritted out before he gently pushed her once more on her back. Swiftly, he positioned himself for penetration, wrapping her long, slender legs around his waist. He paused, sensing her hesitancy and proceeded to rub the tip of his organ back and forth against her petal-soft flesh. Nearly mindless with need, Eowyn called out his name, begging him to end this torment and the Elf took her then.

There was pain. But it was nothing compared to the sheer bliss of having the Elf deep inside her. He remained still for a moment, his breathing ragged and Eowyn sighed into his hair, savouring the throbbing fullness within her. Her fingers ran through his hair and he raised his face to her. His look was loving in nature; awestruck and she knew that it was the same expression that she wore on her face. And then he moved, slowly at first and then faster, their bodies seemed to dance to a perfect rhythm of their own.

Every stroke rubbed against her sensitive bud and the soft wet sounds that Legolas made when he kissed her breasts drove her to the brink of her endurance. And then it hit her; waves after waves of intense pleasure. She cried out his name, a lone, soulful moan that sounded as if she were in pain instead of in being the throes of climax. With a shuddering breath and a groan, Legolas followed her to the summit of their pleasure as he called her name.

They lay down next to each other, silent and thoughtful. Their union was everything that Eowyn had fantasized about. But dawn was approaching. Time was not on their side. But they lay still, wrapped in each other’s arms waiting for the moment where all that they have done will be nothing more than a sweet memory.

**********

They remained unspeaking in Legolas’ room. She helped the Elf into his armour, buckling belts and tightening laces. Every touch was precious and her fingers were apt to linger upon his shoulder or his arm. And then when he was ready, she stood by his side and both Elf and Woman stared at one another. Eowyn smiled up into the grave face and reached out to tuck in a stray lock behind a pointed Elven ear. Her hand was shaking and Legolas took it in his hand. But still they could find no words to say.

“Legolas, come. It is time.” came a voice from the doorway. It was Aragorn. Eowyn’s eyes darted towards the Man but she saw no jealousy in those eyes when it flickered for a moment towards her hand in Legolas’, just understanding and kindness. With a last backward glance at Eowyn, the Ranger left them alone once more.

Eowook ook out the Elf’s treasure from her pocket and tied it once more around his wrist. Legolas just stood still, watching her as she trembled at the feel of the bracelet beneath her fingers. When their eyes met once more, tears slipped from the corner of her eyes. The Elf wordlessly wiped them away, his own face shadowed with an unnamed expression.

“Will I ever see you again?” she murmured as she kissed each of his hands… the very hands that moments ago had touched her with such tenderness and passion. In response, the Elf steered her towards the balcony. He stood behind her, his warm body pressing against hers and he looked up into the sky. It was dawn the the sun had not risen and stars still twinkled in the darkness. Eowyn followed his gaze.

“Tell me what you see.” he entreated.

“Stars. There are so many. But there is one that shines brighter than the others.” she answered.

“That belongs to me. It was born on the day I was conceived and to it my life force is bound.” He turned her around gently and they faced one another. “If you are ever lonely and if you ever think of me… just look to the star and you will find comfort in the knowledge that I too gaze upon it every night.”

With a last kiss upon her lips, he turned and left. Eowyn stood still for a long while, savouring the lingering sensation of the impression upon her lips. And then she ran. On and on she dashed past the many rooms, through the great hall and out into the open where thousands of men gathered. Legolas was on his horse. The battle cries rang out loud and clear. “To War! Forth Eorlingas!”

The trumpets sounded. The horses reared and neighed. Spears clashed on shield. Then the King raised his hand, and with a rush like the sudden onset of a great wind, the last host of Rohan rode thundering into the West and were gorom rom sight. Legolas did not look back. And far over the plain, Eowyn saw the glitter of their armour and their weapons as she stood still, alone before the doors of the now silent house.

“Will I ever see you again?”

He never did answer that question…

**********

To be continued in the Final Installment of Warrior Elf entitled “Beloved”… AND a prequel called Little Elf.
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