Aerlinn

Title: Aerlinn - The Song of the Sea –
Author: Maelithil (maelithil@hotmail.com)
Archives: Just ask.
Warnings: Heavy Aragorn/Legolas Slash. If you are not familiar with the term 'slash' I seriously advise you to hit the back button, for it will not be a very pleasant way to find out. Please. You can flame me for my writing style, for the ghost of a plot this fic claims to have or lack thereof, for the unoriginal wannabe ballad added to spice things up, but I will not accept flames from homophobes. I repeat: this is SLASH, it portrays two males in a sexual relationship and if the mere thought makes you queasy then leave.
Rating: This is an NC-17 fic. If you are underage you shouldn't be reading this. I know that's never stopped anyone before, but please, if you get grossed out or lose whatever degree of sanity you may have had, remember it's your own fault.
Disclaimer: Not mine. Sigh. I own this fanfic, nothing else.
Notes: Contains very mild spoilers to the end of RotK and references to The Silmarillion throughout.
Ok, I'm done rambling. ^_^
 
 
*****
Aerlinn
 
A gray seagull plummeted towards the waves with a hoarse cry. Its wings snapped open as it felt the cold waters' breath ruffling its plumage, and it soared upwards for the welcoming sky, a writhing flash of silver clutched in its claws. Wispy clouds, tinged with the bronze hue of a coming dawn, sailed above the restless sea driven by the mighty eastward gale. And, as if dancing in time with that unknown tune, Legolas' tresses whipped fiercely around his fair face.

Eyes once sharp now gazed longingly at the far horizon that divided the turbulent Belegaer from the ashen sky, seemingly unaffected by the previous night's brackish dampness. His gaze followed the flight of the shrieking gulls as they challenged the wind to an endless contest of strength. It would force them to the roaring waves, gently, firmly, but they would glide back towards the clouds with fluid grace, wings spread to the fullest.

How he longed to do the same. The sea called him, ageless chants rose from the deep; enthralling, captivating. Those soft, melancholic voices had steadily worked their way in his elven soul, expanding painfully till they filled it to the brim with their cries.

 
They call you, kin to the Edhel,
Laegolàs, Son of Thranduil!
 

Each wave that crashed upon the sandy shore echoed the previous, the chanting climaxing into a defeating roar. Dried grasses swayed drunkenly before the sea breeze, whistling of gray sand and white foam.

 
Forget the dark forests that bore you,
Forget the golden realms of Lòrien
For you shall dwell in Eryn Lasgalen nevermore.
 
Gulls cried softly, their songs praise to the wind, to the water, to the Valar and their deeds. Louder and louder they became 'til delicate elven senses pained to listen.

 
They call you, companion to Men,
Prince of Taur e-Ndaedelos!
 
Legolas threw his head back, and the windswept shore resounded with the wail of every cracked shell and the howl of every weathered rock. Calling, calling out to him, as formidable as the Ulumùri created by Salmar himself.
 
Forget the pale towers of Minas Tirith
Forget the lush plains of Ithilien
For you shall rest in Endor nevermore.
 
The mighty chorus grew, embracing all senses, coaxing the Elf forwards. His sight drowning in the endless waters before him, his hearing engulfed by the deafening call of the sea.

It swelled till the warmth caressing his face was too overcome, lost to his soul was the dawn as it gave way to the sunrise. The chant reached its pinnacle and tensed, shimmering, like the surface of clouded lather.

With one last, piercing cry, it shattered into silence.

Shards of broken melodies rained down on him, slashing painfully at his flesh, burying themselves deep within his achinart.art. There they found nourishment and dwindling warmth, and there they budded, roots delving far. His soul bled, and the shoots welcomed it like rain after a draught. They thrived, and snaked through his body as vines upon a secluded wall.

The friendly grip on his shoulder tightened and dragged him back towards the surface of awareness. Legolas stumbled, blinded by the bright sunlight, and coughed as cold air invaded his sore lungs. He drew a shuddering breath, struggling weakly against the strong arms supporting him, determined to stand without aid.

But he was not reed fed from that concerned embrace, rather the hold became firmer and Legolas unwillingly stilled. Leather clad fingers grasped his own, warm, comforting, forcing his body to ease. And ease he did, leaning back against the clothed chest of the Man standing behind him.

"Legolas, friend, what troubles you so? You hark at the chanting of the waves?"

The Elf nodded. "'Tis common for my kin. The pain is greater ere She rises, for their call stronger echoes through the mists of clouded minds." Then he sighed, and turned about to face the mortal. "No matter. What brings you so far south, Aragorn son of Arathorn, or should I say, Elessar Telecontar, King of Men?"

The Man's lips curled into an amused smile. "Aragorn will do, friend. But do not jest. 'Twas Faramir who told me where your heart and soul dwell in solitude, far from your kin and companions. 'Before the great depths of the Belegaer he ambles, feeding off the haze and the gales, listening to the cries of the gulls. He is fading, my liege lord, as the pale stars do at daybreak.'" The smile had given way to a frown, but his voice was unbearably gentle. "Legolas, why have you not yet headed to the West? What is it that binds you to these lands?"

The Elf stared silently at the Man's chin, avoiding the questioning gaze of his gray eyes, seemingly absorbed in the stubble that adorned it. Finally he sighed softly and lowered his gaze to the damp sand beneath his bare feet.
"I know not." he whispered. "The song of the sea is sweet to my ears, but bitter to my heart. I long for the white peaks of Amon Uilos, for the soft caresses of the winds as they swell the sails of the Gray Ships, for the voices of my lost kin. The pull of the waves grows ever stronger, but I cannot bear to leave."

And inside the Elf's heart thorns punctured flesh, edging deeper. Dark flowers opened, silky petals sharp as steel, and choked all feelings, blossoming in a barren landscape tormented by shadows. Anguished mists from the past and bleary visions of a dim future, wandering aimlessly through ashen plains.

It wasn't until he felt blood trickling down his chin that the elf realized he had bitten fiercely into his lower lip. The metallic tang burned his senses and he shuddered, forcing his eyes open once again. A gentle hand tentatively rested on his cheek, a touch so soft it could have been mistaken for feeble moonlight had it not been so warm.

"You are hurting, Legolas."

Legolas shrunk back as if physically struck. Dark eyes hardened in anger and it was a pained hiss that escaped his lips. "I have no need for pity."

"'Tis not pity, friend. Concern, perhaps grief, but never pity."

The hand reclaimed its place, fingers caressing those chiseled cheekbones, tracing fine eyebrows and fair skin. Aragorn drew the elf closer and allowed his tongue to bathe the stained chin, tasting fresh blood and dried salt. If Legolas was surprised at the Man's actions he did not show it, and waited silently until that tongue licked its way up to his lips.

The kiss was tender; merely the brush of skin against skin as warm breaths mingled and eyes fluttered shut. Thin lips thented ted and Legolas groaned as the Man's hot tongue cleansed him of the brackishness of the sea, replacing it with the sweetish scent of smoke. Pale fingers lost themselves into raven hair, urging Aragorn closer. Mouths merged sensually, drowning Legolas' quiet moans as his lithe frame was pressed hard against the King's broad chest.

When strong arms lowered him to the ground, all coherent thought fled giving way to raw sensation. Nimble fingers dipped urgently beneath his crumpled vest, unfastening ties and mapping his pale chest. The Elf shuddered as Aragorn traced his nipples with a callused fingertip, heat pooling in his loins, hardening flesh straining against his leggings.

The King of Men relented, ceasing his mind-numbing torture to gaze at the moaning Elf trapped beneath him. Eyes darkened with pleasure, skin flushed and soft, pleading cries uttered from slightly parted lips, bruised and glistening with sweat. Aragorn growled softly and loosened his own garments before leaning down to once more crush his lips to the Elf's. Tongues battled hungrily, but Aragorn was once again distracted as Legolas' still clothed hips thrust wantonly against his own.

He groaned and his lips left the other's mouth to trail downwards, towards the wan skin of his neck. He stopped to taste the sweat adorning his throat and suckled gently at the spot between his collarbones, smiling against the delicate shiver of a fleeting moan. Aragorn moved lower still till sharp teeth grazed a brown nipple. He took it in his mouth, bathing it with his tongue and surrounding it with the warmth of his breath. Legolas cried out sharply as the nub of flesh pebbled into almost painful arousal.

Fair hands clutched at Aragorn's hair, demanding, and the Man complied. Lips traced their way downward, teasing smooth muscle and fragrant skin. He brushed his cheek against the Elf's growing arousal, hot flesh struggling against its rough confines, and placed a burning kiss on the inside of his thigh.

"Ai! A-aragorn..."

The Man paused and looked up to see Legolas panting, one slender arm thrown over shadowed eyes, lips swollen and trembling with the effort to swallow his hungry moans. Long fingers dug into the cold, gray sand searching for some semblance of control. Aragorn had mercy upon the Elf's condition and swiftly undid the ties binding his leggings and unclothed his pale legs of the soft leather.

The Elf groaned as Aragorn's mouth enclosed the crown of his slick hardness, tasting it. Legolas arched into the Man's heat but rough hands gripping at his hips forced him to withstand the agonizing slow pace of Aragorn's lips. After mere instants of pained bliss the elf shuddered, and the Man took his entire length into his mouth. Bold tongue teasing and sharp teeth tenderly grazing the sensitive flesh lured Legolas to the brink of release.

When those strong hands left his bruised hips to firmly cup his buttocks any remaining restraint fled; Legolas thrust hard into Aragorn's mouth and climaxed as his breath left his lungs in a strangled gasp. The King swallowed the salty bitterness, savoring the feel of the hot seed coating his tongue, and sucked till the Elf whimpered fitfully, the softening shaft too tender for such ministrations.

With a last lingering kiss, Aragorn released Legolas' malehood and nuzzled the flushed skin of his thighs. He then licked his way up the delicate curve of a hip and nipped just below the Elf's navel, earning a barely audible sigh for his efforts. A small hand tucked some stray locks of midnight black back behind his ears and he leaned into that sweaty palm as it touched his cheek. He playfully nibbled at a fingertip as it trailed over his lips and mouthed his request.
The wordless response was just as plain.

Legolas rocked his hips slightly, moaning softly as Aragorn's hands caressed the swell of his buttocks. The King's inquiring fingers traced his backbone until they reached his tight opening and pushed inside. The Elf winced and tensed as Aragorn explored him, unaccustomed to the sudden invasion. The Man withdrew the fingers and brought them to his mouth, tasting the Elf's scent as he sucked leisurely, slicking the slender digits before repositioning them slowly at his entrance.

This time Legolas exhaled loudly and relaxed, dark eyes half-mast with pleasure as Aragorn stretched the smooth flesh, preparing him tenderly. He whimpered as the fingers left him only to thrash wildly when Aragorn bathed his entrance with an expert tongue. The King then lifted Legolas' hips cleanly off the sandy ground and pressed the glistening head of his arousal to the slick opening.

He slid inside with practiced ease, careful not to tear the delicate flesh as it stretched to accommodate his girth. It was not long till he was sheathed to the hilt in the elf's heat, powerful thighs wrapped around his waist urging him ever closer. Lithe arms twined about his neck and coaxed him, unresisting, into a passionate embrace as their lips met in a needy kiss. Elven fingers dug into Aragorn's broad shoulders and he tasted Legolas' seductive moans as they spilled from his bruised lips.

The Elf met the King's eager thrusts with blissful abandon, shuddering as Aragorn's lips traveled from his own, down to a chiseled jawbone and nibbled tenderly at a leaf-shaped ear. The Man groaned wantonly as Legolas pushed back against his swollen length, the sweet sound echoed by another as he suckled at the pale flesh behind an elven ear. A wandering hand dampened by sweat grasped the growing heat trapped between their bodies, stroking it in time with their lovemaking.

Aragorn inhaled deeply, fair strands tickling his neck as he thrust deeper, the Elf's heat clenching tightly around him as Legolas arched his delicate back, rounded nails biting fiercely into his skin and lips parted in a silent cry. The King called out the Elf's name before spilling his seed into that welcoming warmth and collapsing gracelessly on top of his lover.

Molten fire rose like a tide and washed over the melancholic thorns, black blossoms and their bewitching pollens were overthrown and their remains lay charred and blackened on the scalding ground. Stars exploded behind Legolas' eyelids, soothing silver raining down on the barrenness of his heart, washing away the choking ashes and dressing his wounded soul. The echoes of the sea's ballads faded as he drank in his lover's moans, the shrieks of the gulls giving way to his quiet breathing.

When Legolas stirred again the Sun had already reached Her zenith, and the sea was a smooth mirror that sparkled under the playful touch of Her rays. Waves lapped lazily at the warm sands and curled around the sunken rocks to which shreds of seaweed clung languidly, lulled by the steady rippling of the sea. The winds breathed gently, teasing the supple grasses and vexing the pale blossoms as they bowed before the sky.

Aragorn was gazing at him affectionately, idly braiding Legolas' tresses back into their position behind his pointed ears. The Elf blinked when a weathered palm tenderly cupped his cheek and brushed some tenacious sand grains away from his pale skin. The Man leaned down to graze at Legolas' throat with his lips, kissing the faint pulse of his elven heart as it trembled beneath his flushed skin.

The Elf ran his fingers through Aragorn's hair till his hand rested at the nape of his neck, gently massaging the warm flesh of his shoulders. The King smiled against the slender throat as he felt Legolas relax and purposefully tickled the bare skin with his unruly stubble. The Elf giggled coyly and that sweet laughter echoed through the sunlit beach. The gulls soared higher, cries gladsome, and blended with the airy clouds. The moment passed, fleeting, and the Elf grew serious.

"Why?"

The word rolled of his tongue with surprising ease and, for an instant, all stilled. The rhythmic breath of the waves, the flight of the winds, the games of the grass, the wary crab that scuttled across the sand...

"I presented you with a reason to further delay your Travel."

The smile that graced the Man's lips as he kissed a strand of golden hair was a wistful one.

"It will not be long by Elven standards." Aragorn rested his forehead against the Elf's, warm breath rushing over parted lips. "Though, for a mere Man, it will never be enough."

Legolas' stern features softened as he cradled the Man's face in his hands and kissed him softly. Unbound passion had hindered the call of his Kin, but the fractures in his heart ran deep and no amount of love would ever mend them. Still, the eyes of the Man before him were as profound as the gray seas and they sang to him with the same intensity.
The sea was ever singing but those chants were no longer insistent. They rang clear through the still air of the noon, echoing off the clouds and the sunlight.

Reassuring.

"I will stay till you are ready."

Promising.

Till you are ready...
 
 
 
*****
 
Author's Notes:
I told myself I was not going to ignore Arwen's very existence. I tried having Legolas ask the dreaded question: "What of Lady Arwen?" but all of those particular conversations ended with me having the urge to slap Aragorn silly. Sigh. So I ignored her. I suppose it would not be uncommon for a King to take lovers although it might be unusual for one to be of the fair Folk.

Please bear in mind that I am not mother tongue English, and that writing in a style resembling JRR Tolkien's is pretty hard for me. Also, this piece is unbetaed. That said, my character interaction still isn't half as good as it should be, and not only *that* kind of character interaction. And dialogue. I will not get started on the problems in my dialogue... Sigh. Uhm... help? :: grins ::

All comments, constructive criticism, death threats and whatnots should be sent to maelithil@hotmail.com
Thank you,
Maelithil