Lonely is the King

Author: Scooterkitty (maclir@sbcglobal.net)
Pairing: Legolas/Eomer
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: All characters and place names are the property of J.R.R. Tolkien.


LONELY IS THE KING


2/11/03

The sun shone brilliantly from a flawless, pale bsky.sky. A light, late summer breeze ruffled the fair hair of Eomer, son of Eomund, the recently named eighteenth King of Rohan. It was a beautiful August day and it seemed cruel to the young Man that it should be so on the day they entombed Theoden, Thengel's son, the seventeenth King of Rohan.

Eomer had already made his speech for the funeral ceremony and now the newly crowned King Elessar was having his say. The King of Gondor, his beautiful bride Arwen, as well as the other members of the Fellowship, and various other dignitaries, both Men and Elven, had made the journey with the Roharrim to Edoras to pay their last respects to the late King of the Mark and to celebrate the naming of the new one.

It seemed impossible to Eomer that just a few short months ago he had been simply the Third Marshall of the Riddermark and had been happy in that role. Now, due to the untimely deaths of two men he had loved, he was now the king. This was not what he had wanted. His uncle should still have been on the throne and upon his death, the crown should have passed to his son, Theodred. It would be with a heavy heart that Eomer would accept that crown. But, he reasoned, that was most likely true of most kings.

Glancing up at the tall, sturdy figure of Aragorn, still addressing the funeral attendants, the horse lord knew that taking up the crown of Gondor had not been an easy task for him either. Eomer silently prayed that he would one day be as capable a ruler as Aragorn alrealready proving himself to be.

Ranging out on either side of Aragorn, stood the other members of the Fellowship. Eomer was familiar with some of them more than others. He knew well the wizard Gandalf and respected him greatly. The four Hobbits, he knew very little, with the exception of Merry, who had endeared himself to the late King Theoden and had been named an honorary Rider of Rohan. Eomer knew, of course, that Frodo had been the Ringbearer, but that was about all. Of Pippin and Sam, the king knew almost nothing. Then there were the Elf and the Dwarf. Eomer knew, and regretted, that he had not made a very good first impression with them, but during their subsequent adventures together, he felt that he had made up for his initial harshness. He found their friendship intriguing. How two members of two such disparate and historically antagonistic races could have found any common ground was amazing to the young Man. He found the Dwarf loyal, brave, and endlessly amusing. As for the Elf... the Elf fascinated him. Aloof and silent one moment, passionate and fierce the next, Legolas was an intriguingly complex creature.

As the young king's restless eyes continued to scan the gathering, they fell on his sister, Eowyn, and her betrothed, Faramir. They were a handsome couple, well matched, and not just in love, but dynastically as well. Their marriage would further strengthen the historic ties between Gondor and Rohan, ties that had become strained in recent years.

Eomer was glad for his sister and more than a little envious of her happiness. He knew that she had initially lost her heart to the valiant Aragorn and Eomer had, for a time, feared that the Man's rejection of her might have permanently dimmed her fiery spirit. But she had rebounded, as her brother should have known she would, and had found the Man she was truly destined to be with. Faramir of Gondor was a noble and gentle Man and Eomer was confident that he would be able to temper Eowyn's fire.

Eomer wondered if he would one day find such happiness. In these confusing, tumultuous, and travel-filled days following the fall of Sauron, the young king found that he was sleeping very little and what sleep he did find was fitful and light. He would frequently lie awake at night, listening to the snores of the Men camped around him. He longed for the comfort of a sympathetic companion, even if for just one night, to listen to him and help him get his scattered thoughts and emotions in order. And he desperately needed a night of deep and undisturbed sleep.

Giving himself a mental shake, Eomer forced his mind back to reality. The ceremony was drawing to a close, the Riders of the King's House, mounted on white steeds, would be making their ceremonial ride around his barrow soon, the new king needed to be attentive. He would deal with his emotions later.

~*~*~*~

Meduseld, the Golden Hall of Edoras, was filled with the warm cheer of the assembled beings of many races. At the close of the funeral, the attendants had all returned to the banquet hall to witness the naming of Eomer as King of the Mark and to drink toasts in honor of the fallen Theoden. After the somberness of the funeral ceremony, the atmosphere was much lighter now and the wine and ale flowed freely. Eomer had played his part as the good host, having made the formal announcement of Eowyn and Faramir's betrothal and drinking to their happiness and fruitfulness. He had drunk to the health of King Elessar, who had in turn drunk to Eomer's health. He had endured the well-wishes and slaps on the back from seemingly every being in the hall and nowjustjust wanted to find a quiet corner to nurse his tankard of ale and simply watch his guests. He had long ago lost the will to interact with them.

Finding a reasonably dark and deserted stretch of wall near the throne, the young king leaned back against the wonderfully cool stone and closed his burning eyes. With all the torches lit and the bodies assembled in the hall, it had quickly become quite warm and smoky. And whether it was this heat or the ale he had been drinking all evening, Eomer wasn't sure, but he felt the room begin to spin slightly. Quickly opening his eyes again, he found himself face to face with the Fellowship's Elven archer, Prince Legolas of Mirkwood. The Elf was watching him with an irritatingly inscrutable expression.

"Are you unwell, my Lord?" the Elf asked, cocking his head slightly to one side in curiosity.

"Oh, uh, yes, I'm fine."

"Then why do you hide here alone?"

"Just trying to clear my head for a moment, too much ale, I fear," the young Man said, gesturing to his half empty tankard.

Legolas nodded, but didn't seem to be accepting the excuse. Looking closely at the Elf, Eomer noticed concern in his dark blue eyes and the Man realized that Legolas had not inquired about his well being simply as a courtesy, the Elf was srelyrely worried about the young king. This realization caught Eomer off guard. He had always imagined Elves to old old and indient ent to the petty and baser emotions of Men.

He started to explain this to the Elf, when the two males were interrupted by Eothain, one of the Men of Eomer's company. The Man was quite drunk and, ignoring the presence of the Elf entirely, he threw an arm over his monarch's shoulders and leaned in close.

"Come, my Lord, let us celebrate your new crown!" Eothain said, slurring the words slightly. "There are some fine wenches here and I'm sure every one of them would be more than honored to be the first one bedded by the new king!"

"Uh, no thank you, Eothain," the young king said uncomfortably. "I don't think I'm quite up to that tonight."

Accepting this explanation with drunken good nature, the Man staggered off to find another cohort. Eomer glanced over at Legolas, suddenly embarrassed. For some reason, he very much wanted the Elf to understand that he would not be the kind of monarch who used his crown to seduce women.

"What Eothain said ..." the young king began, trying to explain himself, "I am not in the habit of-."

"There is no need to explain," Legolas interrupted. "It is none of my concern."

"I know that, but... Well, I fear that you must already have a very poor opinion of me. I know that during our first meeting, I behaved very badly toward you and the Dwarf. I wish to apologize for that."

"You have no need to apologize," Legolas said with a slight smile. "I must admit that Gimli and I were not exactly on our best behavior either."

"Yes, but you were concerned for the safety of your Hobbit friends. We were delaying you, accusing you of being spies. You had cause for your quick tempers."

"As did you. You had just been banished from your home by a traitor to your uncle. Then we three strangers appeared in your lands. You had cause for suspicion and anger as well."

"Very well then, let us lay the matter to rest for good... Speaking of Gimli, where is your Dwarven friend? I have scarcely ever seen the two of you separated."

"Gimli is off regaling your Men with stories of his deeds at Helm's Deep. I grew restless. I noticed you here alone. You do not seem to be as caught up in the spirit of celebration as everyone else is."

"No, I suppose not," Eomer finally admitted. But before he could continue, the two were again interrupted by a weisheisher heavily into his cups. Smiling tolerantly and nodding at the Man's words, the young king quickly sent him on his way.

Turning back to the Elf, he said, "I must get out of here. Will you walk with me? We could continue our conversation somewhere less crowded."

Nodding, Legolas gestured for Eomer to lead the way. Taking the Elf's arm, the young Man guided him up onto the raised dais upon which the throne sat. At one side of this dais was a narrow door. Opening it, he led the Elf into a narrow, dark corridor. Long familiarity allowed the Man to navigate the passage in the darkness and the horse lord led his guest down to the lower levels of the keep, to an apartment located down another inconspicuous hallway. The single room was quite large and well appointed. A pair of richly upholstered chairs sat in front of a large, cold fireplace. The bed was huge and well stuffed with down feathers.

"This was my uncle's room," Eomer said softly. "And now it is min

"It is a chamber worthy of a king," Legolas said, "and so it should house one. I am sure your uncle would not feel slighted."

"No, I suppose he would understand, but it still feels strange."

"Of course it does. You still think of it as your uncle's room. You have not yet made it your own. When you have lived in it, and loved in it, for a while, then it will feel like home."

"Yes, I suppose so," the young king said, turning away.

"You seem melancholy, my Lord."

"Shouldn't I be? We buried my uncle today. He was like a father to me. I am king now when I should not be. It should be Theodred, but he too, is dead."

"Yes, I can understand what you feel. I am third in line for the throne in Mirkwood after my father. The likelihood that I will ever be king is quite remote, but if somehow it were to happen, I think I would be completely overwhelmed."

"Yes, that would summarize how I feel. But I am not just overwhelmed. I am also incredibly tired. I have not been sleeping well," the young Man said, pulling one of the heavy chairs closer and sitting down backwards, so that his long legs straddled the back of the chair. Glancing up at Legolas, he added, "I must confess, it is a relief to hear that someone understands my feelings. My men, th I h I love them dearly, don't seem to want to hear me speak with any kind of hesitancy or regret. I suppose they need to believe that their king is sound and decisive, even if it is untrue. It is liberating to speak to someone who has no demands to make on me."

"You do yourself an injustice, my Lord. Your feelings are natural. I am sure that all new rulers feel the same way. And you are doing a remarkable job. I have no fear that you will be an unfit king."

"Thank you, Master Elf. Your words are a comfort. Now, if I could only get some sleep, I might actually believe them myself."

Noting the way the muscles in the Man's shoulders were knotted and bunched, Legolas said, "It is no wonder that you cannot sleep. Were your muscles any tauter, they would snap. May I?" The Elf gestured to the Man's shoulders.

"Yes, please do," Eomer said, somewhat hesitantly.

In deference to the late summer heat and the company of allies, both males wore only breeches and tunics of lightweight cotton. Neither wore any chain mail or other body armor. So, as Legolas stepped around behind the young Man and laid his hands on the broad shoulders, both were acutely aware of the warmth of the other's skin bleeding through the thin cloth that separated them. There was a definite sense of intimate physical contact that went beyond the male norm.

The Elf began kneading the tensed muscles of Eomer's neck and shoulders, firmly squeezing and rubbing the taut flesh. The young king gave a groan and let his head drop forward onto his forearms, which were crossed over the back of the chair. He could feel his body melting under the ministrations of Legolas' strong hands.

"Ah, Valar, that feels good," the Man sighed.

"That's it, My Lord, relax," Legolas sahis his voice low and soothing. "All is well in your kingdom, you are surrounded by friends and allies. You have no need for this tension. Let it go."

Listening to that soft, hypnotic voice, the young king did, indeed, feel his tension falling away. And as the tension eased, this mood lightened and his muscles relaxed, lulling him into a wonderfully restful state. He found his worries and irritations drifting out of his mind for the first time in weeks, leaving him relieved and content.

As those, oh, so capable hands continued to work their magic, squeezing, pressing, and pinching, Eomer couldn't help but let his now revived mind indulge in a fantasy where the Elf's strong hands were working on another taut muscle of his body. The muscle in question responded to the mental image with approval and began to twitch to life.

Being a bold, young Man who tended to act on his impulses, Eomer abruptly stood and turned, nudging the chair aside as he did. Grasping the back of Legolas' head, he pulled the Elf in for a rough kiss. When the other male made no attempt to pull away, the Man deepened the kiss, thrusting his tongue into the willing mouth and pulling the Elf in tighter to grind their hips together. After a long moment, Legolas placed a hand against the Man's chest and gently, but firmly, pushed him away. It was not a lack of desire that prompted this action, but rather a lack of air.

"Forgive me, my Lord," the Elf said, with a breathless smile, "but I have not yet perfected the art of breathing through my ears."

"No, forgive me for my aggressiveness, but some needs cannot be denied for long."

"Nor will they be, but the night is young yet and I have no plans to be elsewhere. We need not rush this."

Sliding his hands up to cup the Elf's face, Eomer said, "Ah, so my efforts at seduction have borne fruit?"

"Your efforts? And here, all this time, I thought I was seducing you."

The newly anointed king of Rohan threw his head back and gave a lusty laugh.

"It seems that we have both been successful this night.... Uh, before we take this any further, I must ask you, Master Elf, what is your relationship with the Dwarf?"

"Gimli and I are friends, very good friends, but that is all."

"Looking at the two of you, I would have thought there was more."

"For my part, there is, but I do not believe that Gimli is so inclined," Legolas said sadly. "Why do you ask?"

"It is simply that I do not wish to wake up in the morning to find an angry, jealous Dwarf aiming an axe at my private parts."

"I do not think you will have to worry about that," the Elf said with a bitter smile.

"Then the Dwarf is a fool."

"I will not argue with that."

"Very well then, Master Elf, let us not waste anymore time on this game of words when we could be playing much more enjoyable games involving touch."

Legolas and Eomer moved slowly toward the bed, shedding each other's clothing along the way and by the time they reached the huge four-poster, both males were naked. Taking in the sight of the Man, Legolas saw that without his armor, Eomer was not particularly large. While he was tall, his build was lean and compactly muscled, much like the Elf's own build, although the Man was somewhat broader. He had a light scattering of dark blond hair across his upper chest and down his long legs that contrasted nicely with the Elf's almost hairless body.

Although muscular himself, Legolas' body seemed sleek and ageless, as if it had been carved from a single piece of flawless alabaster. And watching the sins pls play of the muscles beneath that marble-like skin as the Elf moved was like watching the stealthy grace of a cat stalking its prey. Determined that he would not be the prey, but the hunter this night, Eomer again pulled Legolas to him into a deep and intimate kiss.

Breaking the embrace long enough to climb into the bed, gently pulling the Elf in along with him, the Man lay down and stretched out his long body. Legolas curled his own body up alongside. Still fascinated with the Elf's skin, Eomer reached over to run his hands over Legolas' chest and shoulders. Never had the Man felt such skin. It wasn't that it was soft like a woman's. It was just wonderfully warm and smooth, like a newly sharpened sword, still warm with the friction of the whetstone. Eomer couldn't help wondering if the Elf tasted as good as he looked and felt.

"King Elessar has regaled me with descriptions of the fair voices of your people," the young Man said. "I wojudgjudge this for myself. Will you grant me a song? I believe it might inspire me."

"Now?" the Elf asked, puzzled. The last thing he would have envisioned himself doing while lying naked in a bed with Eomer, was singing, but if that was what the young Man wanted for his inspiration, that was what he would get.

The song Legolas chose, was a love song, a song of seduction. It was rather long and its range particularly suited his clear tenor. Within seconds, the singing seemed to have the desired effect on the young king, as he began lightly kissing and nibbling the Elf's neck and chest. As Eomer continued to taste his way down Legolas' body, the young Man hit a particularly sensitive spot, somewhere along the ribs, that made the Elf shiver and sigh, thus interrupting the song.

"No, no, my prince," Eomer said quickly. "You must finish the song. If you stop singing, I will stop kissing."

Glaring at the Man, Legolas resumed the song and Eomer resumed his savory journey. As the Man licked and bit his way slowly across the Elf's flat stomach, Legolas' fine voice occasionally faltered and sometimes dropped to no more than a quavering, breathy whisper, but he kept singing. But when the young king's burning mouth abruptly enclosed his rigidly erect penis, the song was entirely forgotten, as the Elf-prince moaned loudly.

"Master Elf, you have stopped the song," Eomer said, lifting his head to give Legolas a pointed look.

"Oh, to the Abyss with you and your damned singing!" the Elf cried, grabbing the top of the young king's head to try and force him to continue with his fellatio.

Chuckling, Eomer returned to the task at hand, once again, taking the Elf's member into his mouth. Legolas gave a satisfied sigh as he melted back into the bed, surrendering himself to the young Man's hungry mouth and teasing tongue. Flicking that talented tongue over the Elf's penis in maddeningly feather-light strokes, Eomer quickly had Legolas gasping for release, his hands clutching the lothlothes in a deathgrip, while his head thrashed from side to side as if in a fever. To the Man, who watched from his vantage point, this was an incredibly erotic vision. Panting, Legolas spilled his seed into Eomer, who drank it greedily.

Legolas lay spent and weak for a moment, trying to catch breabreath. The young king slid up to lie beside the other male, stroking his stomach gently, encouragingly. After a moment of recovery, the Elf turned to gaze thoughtfully at the Man.

"I believe it is your turn to sing now, my Lord."

"Oh, no, no, I do not sing," Eomer said, chuckling.

"No?" Legolas said coyly, reaching down to grasp the young king's member and give it a firm squeeze.

Eomer cried out sharply in delicious agony.

"Ah, there, you see, my Lord, you have a fine voice."

Almost immediately there was a knock on the door to the king's chamber.

"My King, is everything all right?" the concerned voice of Eomer's squire, Alred, called.

"Yes, yes, everything is fine!" Eomer answered, one hand clamped over Legolas' mouth. The young king had been forced to bodily silence the Elf when he atenatened to answer in the Man's stead. "Alred, I am retiring for the evening. Please see that I am not disturbed. Oh, and do not be concerned by anything you might hear tonight."

There was a momentary pause. "Yes, my Lord."

"You are a very naughty Elf," Eomer said, when he was certain that the squire had left. "I think you need to be punished for your insolence."

The Elf prince merely raised one eyebrow at this bold statement.

Moving quickly, the young Man sat up, grabbed Legolas and flipped him face down across his lap. The Elf squirmed slightly, but didn't seem to have any true desire to escape. That is, until the quiet of the bedroom was disturbed by the sound of a loud smack as the Man's open palm connected with the Elf's firmly rounded rump.

"Ow! That hurt!" Legolas cried out in surprise.

"Of course it did. This is how we punish naughty Elves here in Rohan."

The Elf's struggles became more urgent and eventually Legolas succeeded in twisting away from his tormentor, but not before the horse lord had managed to deliver two more stinging blows. Legolas now stood on the opposite side of the room, out of arm's reach, rubbing his tender backside. The pale skin was now flushed a florid pink. The two males stood eyeing each other warily.

Eomer made a lunge toward the Elf, but Legolas was quicker and easily evaded his grasp. The young Man made another grab for the Elf, but he jumped behind one of the large, heavy chairs. They circled each other for a moment, Legolas making sure to keep the chair between them at all times. Finally Eomer simply tossed the chair aside. The Elf quickly darted over to the bed.

The young king smiled to himself. Legolas had made a mistake. He had placed himself on the furthest side of the bed, the side nearest the wall, but that meant all Eomer had to do was move over to block the foot of the bed and the Elf would be trapped between it and the wall. The Man smiled smugly as he moved intoitioition, but Legolas nimbly flipped across the wide bed to the other side before Eomer could grab him.

The horse lord heaved an impatient sigh. The bedchamber was large and there was plenty of furniture for the Elf to hide behind. The Man was beginning to realize that he did not stand a chance in this little cat and mouse game. The Elf was simply too agile. Eomer was growing tired of this game and his sexual frustration was rapidly approaching a level that would demand immediate resolution. And he truly did not wish to accidentally hurt Legolas in his need.

Putting his finely honed tactical skills to work, the young king came to thnclunclusion that if he could not catch the Elf, he would have to make the Elf come to him. Deciding on a ruse, Eomer acted as if he had accidentally stubbed his toe on one of the legs of the bed. As he hopped around the room, moaning in pain and clutching his foot, the Elf quickly moved to his side in concern, gam game abandoned. Abruptly pouncing, Eomer grabbed Legolas around the waist, flipped him over one shoulder and carried him to the bed.

Dumping his captive onto the bed, the young king stood over him for a moment admiring the view. Legolas' pale skin was flushed and he was breathing heavily with the excitement of their game. His fair hair was loose and tangled. Eomer thought the Elf had never looked more magnificent.

Searching his mind, the young king came to the conclusion that beautiful was the only word to describe the Elf. There was simply no other term that was adequate. Attractive and fair were certainly not, although he had heard Legolas described as both. And handsome seemed a wholly Human word. Aragorn was handsome. Eomer had heard himself described as such, but the word did not seem sufficient to describe Elves and, in particular, not this Elf.

And it was not that he thought Legolas effeminate. He had seen the Elf's ferocity in battle too many times to think that. No, it was, perhaps, that there was a certain feline quality to the Elf, some indefinably inhuman grace that some lesser Men might define as feminine, but Eomer did not follow that line of thinking. He did not believe that grace was, or should be, a quality prized only in the female sex. Men who believed that, were Men who had no grace of their own.

"Well, Master Elf, it seems that I have won," the young Man said smugly. "As the old proverb says, to the victor go the spoils."

"Come and claim them, if you think you can."

"No more games, Legolas. I need you, now."

"Ah, so you surrender then? I wonder, which one of us has truly won?" the Elf asked, flashing a smug smile of his own.

Eomer gave an irritated chuckle. He was by nature very competitive and he knew very well that Legolas was simply goading him. But even kno ful full well that he was being shamelessly manipulated, he was finding it very difficult to ignore the blatant challenge. Luckily for the Elf, the growing demands of the young Man's painfully erect penis made the decision for him.

"Oh, you are a very naughty Elf," Eomer repeated in a dangerous whisper, slowly climbing into the bed beside Legolas.

Whether it was because the Elf sensed that he had taken the game far enough or because he, too, was feeling the need to release the sexual tension, Legolas let the game drop. As the Man pulled him close, the Elf met him with a passion of his own and the two males wrestled for a moment on the wide bed, each vying for dominance over the other. The impromptu wrestling match ended with Legolas face down on the bed, the heavier Eomer on top, straddling his legs.

"I must say, Master Elf, you have a very fine backside. Why, I believe, your backside is almost as pleasant to look at as your front side," said the King of the Mark, reaching down to give the two tight little mounds of flesh a firm squeeze.

Sliding one dow down between the Elf's buttocks, the young Man gently probed with one finger. As Legolas moaned softly, Eomer knew that the Elf was quite relaxed and ready, very little preparation would be required. All they needed was a little lubrication... The Man glanced around, looking to see if there was anything on hand to use. He saw nothing. PeerPeering over his shoulder and recognizing Eomer's dilemma, the Elf smiled and said, "Here, allow me."

Maneuvering out from under the young king, Legolas sat up and scooted closer to the still kneeling Man. Leaning forward, he took Eomer's swollen shaft into his mouth. The king gave a throaty groan and let his head fall back, losing himself completely in the searing heat of the Elf's beautiful mouth. Reachingn, hn, he ran his hands through the incredibly soft, finir, ir, watching transfixed as it dribbled through his fingers like liquid sunlight.

After several minutes of this ecstasy, Eomer made a tremendous show of willpower by gently pushing Legolas away. "No, stop," he breathed urgently. "I must be inside you, now."

Directing the Elf to resume his position face down on the bed, the Man grasped Legolas' hips and pulled them up. The Elf's lovely rump was now raised tantalizingly in the air, just ing ing to be filled with the young Man's painfully engorged member. Unable to stand any further delays, Eomer thrust his saliva-slick penis into Legolas impatiently. He was a bit too forceful he realized as the Elf gasped loudly, arching his back.

"Sorry," the Rohan King grunted absently as he cnuednued with his steady stabs.

"I will live," Legolas whispered, clearly not terribly disturbed by the momentary pain.

No, indeed, the Elf was clearly enjoying the Man's deep, firm thrusts, as Legolas began arching his spine and pushing back against Eomer's hips, deepening the strokes even further. Leaning forward and placing his hands on either side of the Elf's shoulders, Eomer leaned his whole body weight into his bucking hips. He was rewarded with a deep-throated groan from Legolas that sent shivers directly into the Man's loins.

The noises that were now coming from the Elf's throat were inspiring Eomer far more effectively than Legolas' song had earlier. The young Man had not realized before now just how erotic a sound could be. Until now, any sexual encounters he had had with other men had taken place on or near a battlefield. These encounters had been, for the most part, stress relief, either before or after the battle. They were generally hasty affairs conducted in semi-private, out of the way places, so that a certain amount of vocal restraint was required to avoid drawing attention.

The young Man had been with women who had screamed and carried on like wanton whores and, frankly, it had done nothing for him. He knew other men liked this, but he had never understood it, until now. Whilt pat particularly loud, the Elf's moans and whimpers and occasional Elvish expletives were quickly pushing Eomer to his limit. It was an intoxicating feeling to know that it was he who was coaxing those beautiful sounds from the Elf.

Pulling himself back up to an upright kneeling position, the Man hooked his arms under Legolas' chest and pulled him up, so that the Elf was in a half sitting position with his backside firmly planted on Eomer's pelvic bone. While stible ble to continue thrusting with his hips, the Man now had easy access to Legolas' stiff penis. While the Elf reached back to grasp Eomer's waist for balance, the young king reached down to lightly rub and stroke Legolas.

It took only a few strokes before the Elf groaned loudly and arched his body violently, spilling his seed. This visual and aural stimulus was more than enough to push Eomer over the edge and he quickly joined Legolas in orgasm. Both males collapsed onto the bed, spent.

Wrapping his arms almost possessively around the Elf, the horse lord whispered, "Tonight, I think I will sleep well. Thank you, Legolas."

"Oh no, my Lord, I should be thanking you, I am more than honored to be the first one bedded by the new king."

Eomer gave a soft snort. "Wench."


~*~*~*~

Late the next morning, the guests of King Eomer began to slowly make their way into the great hall where a huge breakfast had been prepared. Many were groggy and hung-over and not exactly enthusiastic about the idea of food, but the water jugs were being emptied as quickly as they were brought to the tables. Legolas and Eomer had made sure to arrive at the hall separately and at different times so as not to arouse suspicions.

As the Elf entered, he spied Gimli seated alone, head bowed, with a plate of by toy touched food in front of him. Legolas slid onto the bench beside his Dwarven friend.

"What is this? A Dwarf is not hungry? And here I thought we had averted the coming of the end of the world," the Elf exclaimed, gesturing to Gimli's full plate.

Glaring at the Elf with bloodshot eyes, Gimli said, "Well, aren't you chipper this morning?"

"I did not drink an entire keg of ale all by myself," Legolas responded condescendingly.

"You didn't return to your room last night," the Dwarf demanded abruptly, his tone almost accusing. "I know because I waited for you. Where were you?"

"What concern is it of yours?" the Elf asked lightly.

"I was worried."

"Why? We are among friends."

"You're not going to tell me who you were with, are you?"

The Elf smiled enigmatically.

"It was probably one of those pretty serving wenches," Gimli said. "Don't think I didn't notice the way they all kept looking at you and giggling together. Well, I hope you gave the lass, whoever she was, a fine romp... or was it lasses?"

"Ah, my friend, you know me too well," Legolas sighed, rolling his eyes and shaking his head.

"I knew it!" the Dwarf exclaimed. "I want the details!"