Blood And Gold

Disclaimer: if slash is not to your taste…don’t read any further. If you’re a Tolkien purist…don’t read any further…This doesn’t happen in FoTR, Tolkien is probably turning in his grave, God rest his soul, but its harmless fun. It short, completely irrelvant and entirely on the request of a friend. Oh, and there’s no plot…Its just gratuitous. You have been warned.


‘We should not linger.’ He said, shining faintly, although he was sullied, like all of us, by Moria’s darkness. And Gandalf had lost his way again, in the shadows, and so we could not move on, until he had once more remembered the road. Legolas seemed way…unable to relax. He told me once that elves do not walk in dark places. And I saw that in him. In the way that he was never still…the way that he was always watchful….

‘I know that, Legolas, as well as you…But we cannot go forward or back, until the wizard remembers the way.’ He reached out, and put his hand on my shoulder. I felt a spark, like lightning, even through layers of cloth separating flesh from flesh. Something Boromir had remarked on. Something we had often discussed.

I caught sight of a shimmer of movement behind him in the dark, but I said nothing, merely knowing things to be as we had discussed. Nothing that would hurt him…Nothing that would leave a permenant mark on the perfect whiteness of his skin. Just to see him scattered…to see the blood in faceface. H was so watchful…so vigilant…and yet…if we could catch him unawares.

‘And then, onto Lothlorien.’ I said, watching as a spark lit his blue eyes…as blue as the sky that we had not seen for many days. Anything to keep him occupied. Anything to keep those eyes solely on me.

He was about to say something, and then, with only the slightest sound, Boromir took hold of him, from behind. Frantically, Legolas struggled, the shimmering curtain of his hair falling forward around his face, twin spots of dark colour burning in his cheeks. He bucked and fought, but Boromir’s grip was too strong for him…and then there was the fact that I simply stood there and watched him as he came under attack from this unknown enemy.

Slowly, he came under his own control again, his pale hair tousled, two spots of colour from his exersion hot in his face, and his blue eyes were wide and panicked. His arms were pulled back, a little harshly, where Boromir held his wrists at the small of his back, forcing his chest out, and his chin up. He was very beautiful, and very indignant.

‘Aragorn?’ He said, questioning. He was so radiant, and so desperate to understand, straining against Boromir’s hold. ‘What is this?’

‘This, Legolas, is an ambush.’ Said Boromir, pulling Legolas back against him, and I watched the elf’s eyes widen.

‘What…What will you do?’ He said, fear in his voice for the first time since I had laid eyes on him. He shivered, the tremour running entirely through his slender body, as Boromir leant closer, bringing Legolas’ body very close to his own, inhaling the scent of him.

‘Nothing that will hurt you…Nothing that you haven’t done already, no doubt…’ He tilted his head forward. ‘And, if you do what you’re told willingly, then this will, undoubtedly be an easy experience for all.’ Without warning, Boromir slid his hand down Legolas’ body, between his legs. I watched as a smile grow on his lips,

‘Somehow, I don’t think willingness is going to be a problem here, is it, Legolas?’ I watched, as the blush rose from his collar, to the roots of his hair.

‘You like this, do you, Elf?’ I said. ‘You like being at our mercy?’ He blushed, deeper still, and his lips tightened, and he said nothing. Boromir slid his hand inside Legolas’ trousers, teasing him, and I watched, as pleasure warred with sheer self-indignation in the elf’s fine feature

“You’ll do it willingly?’ He blushed, and Boromir squeezed him a little cruelly, and Legolas let out a cry that was half pain, half desire.

‘Yes…Yes…Whatever you want.’

Boromir let out a crowing, triumphant sound, and without a word, I undid Legolas’ belt, and slid his trousers down to the floor. He groaned, and, if possible, blushed even deeper. But Boromir still had his hands held tight behind his back, so he had no choice but to stand there, under our scrutiny. He kicked Legolas’ booted feet apart, spreading his legs, and bending him from the waist. Legolas made a small sound; something between surprise and indignation, struggling to keep his balance. Boromir came very close behind him, whispering something in his ear, and then entering him, a little roughly. Legolas made some small sound that was half surprise,half outrage, but, by the way his hips rose to meet Boromir’s, and the way his breath came quick and irregular, in short harsh gasps, he was no stranger to being this way. He was not as untouched…as virginal as we had first thought.

Boromir’s face tightened, as he worked himself back and forth, quicker and quicker. Legolas’ hips rose time and again to meet his, ecstacy warring with the deep, rising colour on the elf’s face. He looked at me, fighting to keep his balance, as Bormomir rocked him forward and back. His eyes were the bluest I’d ever seen, burning in his flushed face, his hair, as pale as gold; as pale as spun starlight, stark contrast to the colour in him. Blood and gold. < Just to see him scattered…to see the blood in his face…> Gods, he was just as beautiful as I had hoped. Easily as beautiful as any woman…human or elven that I have ever seen. And I wanted him, watching Boromir take him, I wanted him so badly…

I watched those blue eyes widen, as I loosened my belt, and lowered my waistband enough for him to SEE the desire in me. And there was such desire in me, watching Boromir…watching him take him…

And Legolas did not protest so very much, when I guided his mouth down the length of me, and I lost myself in the smooth slip slide of Legolas Greenleaf’s mouth; lips and tongue. His silk smooth hair caressed my thighs, as his head moved back and forth, half driven by Boromir behind him, mirroring ththruthrusts, and, I think, half driven by the prince of Mirkwood’s own desire.

Somewhere, I think I was aware of Boromir crying out, somewhere in the night, and then it was building and building and building until…until……………..……………..……………..……………..

And then I remember Gandalf shouting, and I realised that we had found the way, and it all…blurs together in a sense of duty, and right, and the last thing…the absolute LAST thing I remember is Legolas standing upright once more, his trousers around his knees, the evidence of his desire wet on his thighs, angry and self-righteous, but his blue eyes were smiling, and he seemed satisfied.

And the next morning, I looked at him, once more that archer…once more the unshaken, composed Prince of Mirkwood, I closed my eyes, and I saw a vision of him scattered; the blood in his face.

Of blood and gold.