What... as he floated away from his early morning slumber Aragorn twitched and gazed up into his Orlando’s liquid dark eyes. The love he saw there pulled a smile to his lips. Mmm, another seductive kiss teased Aragorn’s smiling lips before a moist tongue danced around his face, flicking at his nose, his eyelids, his cheeks. The simple act almost made the King cry in joy. How fine; although recovered from his strange twilight world Orlando hadn’t pursued actual physical intimacy. Aragorn patiently waited these past ten days. Did today’s dawn signal a special turning point?
Orlando smiled down at him, ahh, such a pure, fine smile. That exquisite accent complimented the cool morning air. “My king, do you know how handsome you are while you sleep? I have been sitting here watching the deep dreams play across your marvelously strong face.” Orlando’s tongue gently licked Aragorn’s nose again. “I can only pray that those dreams prove fair and supportive.”
Instead of speaking Aragorn reached up and pulled Orlando down into another wet kiss. Their kiss lengthened, swelled, merged into sleepy sexuality. Orlando slithered down and pressed his lean length against Aragorn’s blessed hardness. “Aragorn, have I told you how much I value your supportive love? I should bless each day by singing high praises to your love. Yes, today I awoke and love simply spilled from my pores. Now, my perfect lover, I want you to spill into me. I need to feel you explore deep inside me like never before. I have been away from your comfort for too long.” As he spoke Orlando rolled to his side and slid his slender thigh over Aragorn’s thighs. Their lips met again, the pressure driving their latent sleepiness directly into the mounting dawn.
Aragorn finally found coherent words for his lover. “Orlando, you know how much I value your unquestioning love. Your love has imparted something special to me which I can’t put into sensible words. Perhaps there is nothing sensible about our love. We challenge sobriety and society. I only know that my supreme love for you surpasses my common sense. Not quite romantic but true.”
“Your generous love has saved me. That’s what I hold dearest to my heart.” As he rolled to his back Orlando pulled Aragorn into a fierce embrace. His slender thighs clamped together and firmly massaged Aragorn’s relaxed cock. His own long cock happily curled against Aragorn’s lower belly. “But what is this I feel? I usually awaken to your massive erection pressing against my flesh. My lover, do you not find me desirable this morning? Or have you forgotten how to properly ride your wild young Haradrim?” Orlando pulsed his strong inner thigh muscles against Aragorn’s trapped cock.
The pleased King arched into Orlando’s seductive urgings. His fingers swayed and caressed up over sleek young back muscles before tangling into thick hair. Beads and silken lengths greeted his seeking touch. The subtle scent of Orlando’s long hair released into the cool air. Spicy and mysterious, yes, an aroma befitting this exotic desert beauty. As he pulled Orlando’s gasping mouth to his own again Aragorn felt Orlando’s long fingers slide under his buttocks. They unmercifully teased and probed into his own depths, stretching, stimulating. A shiver raced through Aragorn’s tensing body. Mmm. Aragorn’s lean hips reacted with circular motions, his body seeking further closeness. His thick cock slowly surged to life between those gripping firm thighs. Orlando’s bold fingers spread wide within him. Aragorn adored how his lover held no respect for his royal person. By now Orlando’s clever fingers knew exactly how to excite Aragorn beyond reason.
Aragorn’s own hands dragged down his lover’s back and sculpted those deliciously taut buttocks. He squeezed the tight flesh together then spread it wide. His own forefingers dove in and gently teased his lover’s receptive opening.
Their gasps mingled. Orlando worked his strong thighs even harder until his lover’s warm liquid began seeping against his skin.
Mmm. Lovely. Aragorn felt his balls gathering in potent lust. Ahhh...
Sensing Aragorn’s dangerous breaking point Orlando laughed into Aragorn’s panting mouth. “Oh no, my eager lord, I will not let you waste yourself between my thighs.” As he continued laughing Orlando pushed at his King’s fiery embrace and forced his powerful body up.
A compliant Aragorn rose to his knees. He barely had time to steady himself before Orlando thrust his shins over Aragorn’s broad shoulders and urged his consuming opening up to his lover’s stiffening cock. Yes, his powerful lover was nearly ready.
Wait. Aragorn’s large hands gripped Orlando’s narrow hips. “Orlando, hold, we haven’t...”
A wild smile answered Aragorn’s protest. Orlando expected such a noble reaction from his lover. “Nonsense. I need no preparation. I need you now. I need you in your raw untamed strength. Come to me, lover. Complete me. Today is the true day of my return to the world. Make me feel alive again.”
Although Aragorn’s cock throbbed with his strong desire he still held back. No. He would not hurt his lover. Lunging forward he tried reaching for his bedside table but Orlando forced his shins hard against the King’s shoulders and trapped his movement. “No! Aragorn, heed me, I am ready for you now...” A flash of liquid spat into his lover’s palm then Aragorn felt Orlando bathe his rampaging cock in warm mouth juices. That scant moisture had to do. His young lover controlled the moment. His lover knew what he wanted from Aragorn.
Arching back Aragorn pressed in, ahh, pressed into the glorious tightness welcoming him. Orlando’s seductive moans drove him on. Yes. Primal and perfect.
If this was how Orlando wanted to recover so be it. Aragorn would be the willing partner in his healing dance. His thrusts sped up, drew back then slowed into languid rimming. His stiff flesh nearly pulled free from Orlando’s demanding grasp. Just... more... a little more... driving in Aragorn fully embedded his cock into that enchanting warm world. In return Orlando’s mouth opened and released a choked hiss of satisfaction. They could never be too loud; that was an unspoken rule. Gods, Aragorn wanted to take Orlando out to the mountains and love with only nature as witness. There they could howl their unfettered passion into each other’s mouths.
But not here. Not now.
Orlando squirmed and offered his pulsing body up to his lover. Warmth spiraled and flowed, the force teasing him close to release. No, ahh, not yet, ngghhh, so eager, too eager. He wanted his lover so badly but until today nothing had seemed to make sense. But today, yes, the young Haradrim awoke and needed, no, he demanded this physical union. Orlando needed Aragorn’s thick cock plunging deep inside him, needed to feel reconnected with his lover’s determined flesh. Perhaps tonight they could reverse their loving roles. Before that horror nearly destroyed them they had been on the verge of becoming each other. That horror had tried...
No! Orlando almost cried out in fury. Push the damage back. Concentrate. Concentrate on this glorious, generous, giving male who loved with all his heart and soul. Devour him. Welcome Aragorn deep into the longing body.
In tribute to his return to the living Orlando decided to release just as the fall sun brilliantly washed into the royal room. He willingly sacrificed himself to the dawn and his lover.
When Aragorn felt his lover’s cum splash against his flesh he rained kissed across Orlando’s beautiful ecstatic face. So alive, so passionate. Gods, he loved this elemental being. He needed this youth. It made no sense but Aragorn understood.
Even as Aragorn’s desire and lust swelled together into a final race foul reality slunk into Aragorn’s mind. Blast, he had an urgent early morning meeting with Halbarad and Faramir. Unread documents marked urgent sulked on his study desk.
For the briefest second Middle Earth’s human hero allowed himself to hate being King. Then Aragorn surged down and gave into his complete release. Physical pleasure shook Aragorn’s muscular body but his traitorous mind had already drifted to ruling. It wasn’t fair.
Soon Aragorn would take his Orlando to that blessed mountaintop and let their magnificent love scare the soaring falcons.
Aragorn grimly glared at the documents sprawled across the small council table. A slight tension already disturbed his chest. He needed to calm down and stop emoting all the time. Unfortunately as the King’s age advanced his body, especially his heart, tended to ignore him. “By the Gods this complete lack of disrespect toward me is intolerable. I...”
Faramir tapped his fingers against the polished wood. “I thought the same thing when I read this ridiculous accusation. I have no idea why Fornost simply won’t listen to reason.”
After Halbarad re-read the main offending document again he shook his head and glanced at Faramir. “I understand that our annoying Lord Tuberclain already withdrew from tomorrow’s crucial council meeting?”
A short hard laugh escaped Faramir’s throat. “The impossible fool went one step further and withdrew from Minas Tirith! He and his staff left earlier this morning without giving advance warning. That is another blatant insult to us! I received a message claiming Tuberclain refused to stay when he feared for his city’s safety.”
This distressing situation coming so fast upon his own personal trauma brutalized Aragorn’s compromised temper. He tried recapturing his early joy with Orlando but his fresh anger refused to cooperate. To his friend’s surprise their King smashed his large fist upon the table then he childishly tossed a few papers to the tiled floor.
When Aragorn rose to pace back and forth his wooden chair almost hit the floor. Rage coursed through his mind. He could barely think. He wished he could kiss his Orlando again. “And this arrogant fool thinks Fornost is truly in danger from Annúminas, my second capitol city? Why? Because I built them new castles? Have those Northern dolts learned nothing? They glare at each other and point fingers. I swear that reconstructing Annúminas was the most reckless act I ever performed. Here I thought I paid homage to the former glory of the Dúnedain but instead all I did was create strife. Well I won’t endure such nonsense nor am I traveling up there to oversee this petty squabble.” The King swung his angry stare toward Halbarad’s carefully expressionless face. “What do you think about sending Eldarion up there? It will be a lesson in ruling for my son although he might...” Halt. Aragorn swallowed his rash words. Faramir didn’t know the wretched story. Calm down.
As he watched in true confusion Faramir stroked his chin. “Actually it may be good for Eldarion to deal with such a political matter. The lad is old enough to handle himself in a diplomatic fashion.”
Faramir’s innocent statement forced a rude snort from the old Dúnedain Ranger’s lips. “Oh really now?”
Sensing something odd Faramir pressed on. “Don’t you think so? Frankly I think it’s time young Eldarion took on more responsibilities. He’s not leaning enough statesmanship.”
Bah, the annoying lad had taken on more royal responsibilities than dear Faramir would ever know. Yes, now the Prince understood how to use his lofty position to hurt innocent prey. Aragorn swallowed a fresh anger spurt and shook his head. “Yes, that’s true but he is still young and untried. Halbarad, what if you accompanied Eldarion?”
The advisor’s stony face showed exactly what he thought of such a plan. “Sire, might I say that is not your finest suggestion?
As he gazed between his two friends Faramir also shook his head. Why such tension? “My friends, have I missed something here? Halbarad, has something gone awry between you and Eldarion?”
Halbarad’s commanding voice rasped in utter annoyance. “You could say such a thing has occurred. The Prince is not on my good side.”
The usually tactful Faramir determinedly kept digging. What was going on? “Is there something I need to know about here?”
“Let’s just say Eldarion ordered me to take care of something he needed to handle on his own. He took the coward’s way out and such nonsense never sits well with me. So yes, Faramir, the spoilt brat does need to grow up but I fear sending him into a potential political dispute isn’t the place to start.” Halbarad shrugged and held out his capable hands. “I’ll go on my own, if that pleases the King’s will.” The Ranger fiercely locked stares with Aragorn.
Perversity made Aragorn keep pushing his old friend. He still didn’t like Halbarad calling his son a spoilt brat. That statement, albeit true, crossed a subtle line. “Oh please, Halbarad, I’d truly like to see Eldarion take on this diplomatic challenge with you. We all know that you are such a learned political master. Your tact is legendary.”
Halbarad almost rose from his chair in anger. No. Aragorn was baiting him. Instead of giving into his basic emotions Halbarad merely curled his fists against the polished tabletop. “Then why don’t you go, Sire, and teach your fine young Prince the political ropes? I feel you possess more political expertise then I could ever dream of gathering in three lifetimes. Also I am sure you’ll enjoy the loving father-son experience.”
A dense silence settled in over the three men. The puzzled Faramir continued glancing between Aragorn and Halbarad. This was ridiculous. All right, he detested being kept in the dark and quite obviously his two friends were on the verge of an ugly argument. The Steward knew that because of his Éowyn’s illness Aragorn tried sparing him from troublesome decisions but sometimes his friend went too far. “Look, if I am to function properly here I need to understand any major problems. If you two are keeping an important matter from me then I may as well just retire to my suite and read to my ailing wife. I’ll enjoy her dear company far more than watching you two act like angry wet panthers.” Faramir cast his determined blue gaze around the room. Silence welled against him “Well?” When no explanation came the Steward pushed his chair back and began collecting his own notes.
Gods, please.... “Faramir, stop. Just... this is difficult.” Aragorn sat back down and frowned in disgust before a vague guilt flowed over him. Yes, Faramir should know something of the problem. “My friend, forgive me for keeping this event from you but it is quite a distasteful matter. I am trying to keep it quiet. There is no delicate way to say this; my son hates my Haradrim lover so he unearthed extremely, shall we say, brutal information about Orlando’s past and turned the filth over to Halbarad here. Eldarion wanted Halbarad to take care of matters. However my son didn’t realize that Orlando had already told me everything of his tormented life. The episode enraged me and created ugly feelings between everyone involved. Even Arwen is upset.” When Halbarad wisely remained silent Aragorn inclined his head. “ So that is the incident Halbarad refers to, all right? Needless to say currently neither of us are getting along with my son and frankly I fear if I send Eldarion off alone to my Northern Kingdom he might incite strife simply to spite me.”
Faramir blinked in surprise. Suddenly the past strange, tense weeks made more sense. He had wondered why Orlando had fallen ill. He had wondered why a pregnant and obviously physically distressed Legolas had suddenly arrived. Yes, Faramir knew he received only part of the tale but at least he now had a focus. “I see. So the problem is that serious.”
“Yes.”
The Steward slowly shook his head. “Forgive me, Aragorn, but I need another piece of this puzzle. What is in your young man’s past? Can you tell me? You know what you tell me goes no further than this room.”
Aragorn merely stared in dismay. Gods, there was no way he could tell dear Faramir that Orlando’s evil Father led the Haradrim attack against Gondor!
As he saw Aragorn’s anguish Halbarad tensed and shook his head. “Faramir, I think I can speak here. Orlando came from a horribly abusive father. This man tortured then slaughtered Orlando’s mother before his eyes and later when Orlando angered his father the beast sold him into slavery. After escaping his captors Orlando returned and killed his father. So the downside is the lad is wanted for murder in Harad although in my eyes he had every right to kill his Sire. Eldarion wanted Orlando banished or he claimed he’d slander the lad. So the compromise was to banish Orlando from the palace guard but allow him to remain. Needless to say it’s been an extremely trying time.”
Aragorn lowered his gaze to the table. Yes, he owed Halbarad for his cautious words.
“Oh Gods how terrible for the boy! Ahh, Eldarion is so young and intolerant. Very well, I can see that sending Eldarion isn’t a wise course to take.”
Once he found his voice again Aragorn shrugged. “No it’s not.” His gaze shifted to Halbarad’s. “All right, fine, Halbarad, you can go and quell those morons into line. But if anyone can think up something for Eldarion to do I’d like to have him away from me for a few months. He needs to learn responsibility and self control yet unfortunately I am not in the mood to conduct those lessons. Imagine, I thought I had been teaching him such but somewhere along the line my parental skills fell far short.”
Faramir held up his right hand. “Aragorn, I have the perfect place for Eldarion. I am in the midst of allowing Elboron to set up a special guard in Ithilien. I talked to Legolas about this and he feels he can help train warriors there since he knows soon he’ll be reluctant to travel or more like Gimli will pitch a fit if he tries. Why don’t I involve Eldarion in the planning effort? He and Elboron get along extremely well so...” A puzzled frown crossed Faramir’s refined features. “Hold, why is your son so set against Orlando?”
Aragorn blinked at the abrupt change of subject. “Eldarion finds it immoral of me to have male lovers. He feels it insults his mother and I feel he merely finds two males together wrong.”
As he rested back in his chair Faramir stared into the chilly fall sun glowing along the outer marble railing. Interesting. “Aragorn, your words surprise me for I thought that your Eldarion and my Elboron had... well, become more than mere friends.”
A startled expression filled Aragorn’s light gaze. “What are you telling me?’
Faramir rubbed his fingers together. “Well, I didn’t hear this from Elboron directly; this was an observation from my Éowyn; about three months ago she jested that she thought our son was in love with his Prince. When I questioned her Éowyn said she knew by how Elboron looked when he spoke about Eldarion to her. She could tell Elboron held deep feelings for the Prince.” Now Faramir held up his hands. “Yet I know not if Eldarion shares these emotions with my son so...” He ended with a helpless shrug.
Halbarad’s gruff laughter greeted Faramir’s words. “Our selfish Eldarion probably couldn’t tell if your gentle son was in love with him. He’s too busy trying to ruin lives.”
Aragorn presented Halbarad with a warning frown. If it weren’t for the fact that his friend had just acted with grace, ahhh... “Halbarad... let’s not push, all right? So, Faramir, this is interesting news. Yes, I myself wonder about Eldarion now. Perhaps my son does return Elboron’s affections and the act drives him to despair. Or perhaps I was wrong about my son hating the idea of me having male lovers. Perhaps he simply can’t stand the insult to his dear mother. Well, whatever the problem between us Eldarion’s already done his damage and I certainly don’t plan on asking him outright.” After raking back his long dark hair Aragorn released a groan. “These past days have been a nightmare, Faramir. Since I am sure you are curious after Halbarad presented Orlando with the facts Orlando felt certain I’d turn him out so he fell into a strange fit. That’s why I called Legolas; I knew Orlando need help beyond what I or any healer could offer. Now of course Orlando’s aware and claims he feels miraculously cured, but I can sense his lingering unease. During these past ten days he has not left the palace proper. He hardly leaves my suite.”
Faramir gasped in dismay. “Sure Orlando doesn’t think that Eldarion means him direct harm?”
“Orlando denies holding any fears but I feel sure his slain Father has allies who would like to see his so called murderer brought to justice. Not to slur Haradrims but I know they often carry out justice with a slim dagger thrust between the ribs in a crowded street. I’ve heard that solution many a time.” A hard little smile darted toward Halbarad. “I know that’s why my old friend here felt alarmed when I took Orlando as my lover. He feared Orlando might slit my throat while we made love.”
Halbarad angrily flicked his fingers toward his king. “Leave it go, Aragorn. I know that’s hardly the case now.”
Faramir thoughtfully toyed with his ginger-toned beard then he gazed at Aragorn. “Aragorn, perhaps a trip would help the lad’s spirits? A change of scenery might lessen his fears of attack.”
Aragorn blinked in surprise then a true smile took his lips. “Perhaps a trip up North?”
Yes, that was a perfect idea. Halbarad leaned toward Aragorn and patted his arm. “You know deep in your heart that you would be the best one for this task; I believe if you journey there and throw a few regal glares around you could solve this dilemma. Offer Fornost a pretty new castle.”
This time Aragorn laughed, the sound killing some of his tension. “My dear Arwen said the same thing to me. I believe you are both correct. Very well, Halbarad, send the fastest rider you have out after obtuse Lord Tuberclain and tell the dolt that he can expect his King in a few weeks. Add that if he conducts any aggressive action I’ll track him down and personally drown him in Lake Evendim.”
This time both Faramir and Halbarad laughed. “Well, Sire, I’ll send him a messenger but I think I’ll word my letter a bit more diplomatically.”
“As you wish. Well, the day looks to be sunny. I think I’ll try and coax Orlando out for a walk in the fresh air.” Aragorn sadly glanced at Faramir. “How is your dear wife today? I apologize for not asking sooner.”
A joyous expression lit Faramir’s handsome face. “Oh Éowyn feels quite well today. She’s out of bed and reading by her favorite sunny window. I think the Healer’s new herbals are helping her strength.”
“Excellent! Well, do you think dear Éowyn would enjoy company? I thought to order a picnic lunch for your suite so we can gather there for food and a happy visit.”
Faramir smiled in delight. “Of course I know Éowyn would love the company. She misses coming to dinner. Aragorn, yes, that’s a splendid idea. Worry not, I’ll go speak to the chamberlain and make the arrangements.” He glanced at the clock. “It’s 11:00 now; shall we meet at 1:00?”
“Perfect. I need to review interior guard reports at 3:00.” As he gathered documents into his folder Aragorn shook his head. “Yes, sending Eldarion away with Elboron is a sound plan. Perhaps your gentle son can quell my tempestuous son’s bitter nature. Elbereth knows he needs something to make him more... tolerable.”
When Aragorn left Faramir stared closely at Halbarad. “This friction between Aragorn and his son is potentially lethal. This is hardly how the heir should react toward his Sire.” A tainted smile twisted Faramir’s graceful lips. “I for one know exactly how badly a father son relationship can decay.”
Halbarad shook his head. “But from what I have heard you respected your Father. I fear this is more the case of the son not respecting the Father. And I agree, this ugly riff does not bode well for the future yet for now I cannot see; well, granted there is a simple way to solve the problem but that is not happening.”
After a brief silence Faramir shrugged. “So in a very real sense Aragorn is choosing Orlando over his own son.”
A deep frown answered his words. “My friend, I’d advise you never to voice that dangerous thought to Aragorn. He was content to love Orlando in the time-honored subtle fashion of Kings. Eldarion forced everything into the open and also threatened his father. We know that is not a wise thing to do, especially since Aragorn truly loves this boy. Odd; I prayed that he’d find someone to capture his fancy for a while and it seemed the Gods listened to me.” Halbarad shook his head. “At first I thought it a mere physical attraction since I deduced that Orlando shares many characteristics with Legolas.”
Faramir arched his eyebrows. “Truly? I didn’t notice such details.”
“Oh the similarities are there. But now I know there is a far greater depth to this affair. Yes, I never imagined that Aragorn would fall in love again but in his young Orlando he has found something dear and special.” Halbarad fell silent and stared at the table.
After a few seconds Faramir rose and gestured toward the door. “Well, I must see to our indoor picnic. Shall you attend?”
“Of course.” The advisors clasped hands.
Aragorn entered his suite and looked around for Orlando. For once he wished that his lover hid within so he could soothe himself with deep kisses from those perfect lips. Ah yes, of course; Orlando mentioned visiting with Legolas and Gimli. Yet their guest suite yielded no response. Had they gone out for a walk? Yes, perhaps the pair had drawn Orlando into the brilliant fall day. That news would be a true relief. Yes, if Orlando had truly decided to celebrate his return to the world Aragorn wanted to rejoice with him.
Ah, before Aragorn went down to search the garden he should look in on Arwen and the girls. After extracting himself from his lover’s compelling charms Aragorn had been in such a frenzy to review the annoying documents that he gulped down a fast breakfast and began reading before the meeting. He usually at least said good morning to all his favorite ladies.
As Aragorn raised his hand to knock a small smile appeared on his full lips. When did he begin knocking on his wife’s door? Years ago they freely wandered in and out of their suites without knocking. Yes, that was when Arwen graced the suite next to his. Of course Arwen’s excuse in moving to the larger suite further down the royal corridor was to be closer to her children.
Such a small innocent thing to lose but it told Aragorn how much his life had changed.
He knocked.
Nanny Hareth answered his knock. “Oh Sire, greetings.” After dropping a brief informal curtsey she stepped back and allowed Aragorn entrance.
The King stepped in and smiled in adoration. A beautiful domestic scene comprised of extremely different elements spread before him. As the sun touched her raven hair with red highlights Arwen sat nursing little Glyn. Legolas sat next to her on the window seat treating Celebrían to a bottle. She rested atop of his rounded middle. Look at the Elven warrior so at home feeding a baby. Aragorn lacked such gentle skills.
Gimli sat intently playing chess with Aragorn’s oldest daughter Gilraen while Elwing watched the contest. Aragorn’s lips twitched, this time in mirth. His quick visual assessment of the board told him that Gilraen was beating Gimli. How priceless.
Wait; only one thing was wrong; this cozy scene didn’t reveal his Orlando’s current location. Where was his beauty? Had he gone out alone?
Arwen looked up and smiled in fond greeting. “Good morning, my husband. How went the meeting?”
After Aragorn shared a kiss with her he shook his head and held up his large hands. “It went badly. The grim outcome is I need to visit Fornost to knock sense into their thick-witted skulls.”
Dismay filled the Queen’s beautiful pale face. She hugged Glyn a touch closer. Thinking about that Northern Kingdom always sent a chill through her. When she had visited there to see the recreated Annúminas Arwen found the grand place grim and joyless. The very air sucked at her sensitive soul. “Oh Aragorn, by the time you reach Fornost the North will prove exceptionally cold and dreary. I remember travelers marveling at how temperate Imladris felt after journeying from those lands. Must you go?”
“I originally planned on sending Halbarad but we decided it would be more effective if I went in person. Those fools in Fornost think that Annúminas has become a threat to them. I do believe they think somehow Gondor is falling apart.” Perhaps Gondor wasn’t falling apart but its King was on the verge. Here he stood surrounded by his family and friends yet all he could do was worry about his young lover’s exact location.
Pausing before making a move Gimli grinned up at Aragorn. “Hearing such bold nonsense makes me feel content not to be a King.”
“Gimli, darling, if you were a King no one would dare defy you.” Legolas winked at Aragorn. “They’d feel too fearful of the wicked tongue-lashing they’d receive from you.”
An amused grunt sounded before the concentrating Dwarf moved a bishop. “There, lassie, now get out of that trap.” Gimli shook his thick braids. “Aragorn, yer wee lassie here plays like ye command. She’s a young genius!”
Gilraen smiled and blushed. “Well I was taught the game by a brilliant leader, right, Father?”
“Sweet flattery, daughter, will get you a kiss.” Aragorn leaned and kissed her smooth cheek. “And you deserve one simply because.” He kissed a smiling Elwing. The proposed picnic suddenly shoved past Aragorn’s concern for Orlando. “Oh, before I forget we’re all invited up to Éowyn’s suite for a picnic lunch. Faramir claimed she’s in fine spirits today so I deemed a festive lunch the appropriate celebration. We’re to gather at 1:00.”
A chorus of positive responses followed Aragorn’s announcement.
All right, Aragorn felt completely tactless asking this query but his curiosity forced him. “Erm, Legolas, do you know where my bodyguard is?” As he asked he silently pleaded with Arwen for her forgiveness. “I thought I might want to practice swords with him before lunch.” Yet another lie for his daughter’s young ears.
Legolas gazed over at Aragorn and smiled. “The young man finally went out for a walk. Orlando thought it such a brilliant day he decided to take advantage of the sun’s grace. He seemed in extremely positive spirits.”
Yes, Orlando had seemed happy and more optimistic then Aragorn had even seen. “Why that is good news. Did he plan on strolling in the garden?”
As Legolas adjusted the fussing Celebrían he shook his head. “No, Orlando mentioned walking down to visit his former comrades at the third level practice area. He asked me to go along but I decided to be lazy and not join him. I didn’t fancy the walk back up plus Gimli had already accepted Gilraen’s chess challenge.” The golden Elf teasingly smiled at Aragorn. When he saw the tension flash at him his smile faltered.
Since Gimli was looking down he didn’t sense the change in mood. “Auch, much to my chagrin and embarrassment.”
Unreasonable raw panic slammed into Aragorn and tightened his heart. No. Orlando was alone? No! “Ah, so Orlando walked into the city proper. I... well, I must go see to...” Without a further word the King whirled and departed from the room.
What... a surprised Legolas blinked and looked around before swiftly rising. He handed Celebrían to a startled Elwing. “Forgive my abruptness but I need to speak with Aragorn.”
As she stared after her husband’s departure Arwen gestured for Legolas to go. “Please, Legolas, see what is the matter with Aragorn. He’s acting most oddly.”
“Excuse me, lass, I have to...” Gimli rose and charged out after Legolas’ quick departure.
No dizzy spell, please no dizzy spell. Not now. Summoning up his Elven speed Legolas darted down the grand main stairwell and burst into the cool fall air. Wait; aside from the staring guards the elegant wide marble plaza stood empty. No, Aragorn couldn’t have gone that far... hearing rapid footsteps behind him Legolas whirled and saw Aragorn jogging from the palace while strapping Andúril around his waist. Gimli raced through the door seconds later.
At seeing Legolas Aragorn halted and directed an accusing gesture toward his friend. The King couldn’t halt his angry words. “By the Valar, Legolas, why did you let Orlando go out alone?”
Legolas shook his head in surprise. He felt Gimli press against his side. “Aragorn, he is not a child!”
“Of course he’s not but he is in danger!”
“From whom? Aragorn, listen to yourself!”
In reply Aragorn only shook his head and resumed his swift jog. A frustrated Legolas kept pace alongside and continued questioning Aragorn. He heard Gimli’s annoyed exclamation. “Tell me who threatens Orlando? Your son?”
“Gods no. He’s in danger from...” Aragorn halted again and inhaled a deep breath. The combined panic and stress already winded him plus the annoying tightness in his chest grew sharper. “Legolas, there might be Haradrim assassins stalking Orlando seeking revenge for his father’s death. He shouldn’t be out alone!”
Gimli trotted up in time to hear Aragorn’s fevered words. What was all this silly running about? “Auch laddie, Haradrim assassins in Minas Tirith? Don’t ye think yer fine stern guards would have noticed such suspicious characters lurking about the city? Aragorn, ye are sounding most odd.”
A wild-eyed Aragorn glanced down at Gimli’s questioning face. He almost snarled in impatience. “If assassins didn’t want to be noticed then my guards would be of little use. Now Legolas, Gimli, please, let me go. Stay here. I must find Orlando.” As his friends stared in true puzzlement Aragorn began running toward the plaza’s exit.
Why was Aragorn acting so bizarrely? Something felt so wrong. Legolas jogged forward a few more yards until he winced and halted. No. A deep twisting cramp invaded his body. By Sweet Elbereth why was this pregnancy such an awful physical burden? Gasping in dismay Legolas held his middle. “No, my child, please, I didn’t mean such harshness. I just feel so frustrated!”
As he snarled in annoyance Gimli supported the staggering Elf. “Legolas, ye rash Elf, that’s enough wild dashing about. It’s up to bed with ye. Let Aragorn deal with his paranoia as he sees fit. My love, ye know once he gets something into his stubborn head nothing else matters.”
Tosca stood staring after Aragorn. “Legolas, what is amiss here? Should I follow the King?”
“No, leave the King be. If you follow him you’ll only anger him. This a personal matter between the King and Orlando.” Legolas stared off into the distance and sighed. He wished he could... enough. Leaning down Legolas hugged Gimli close then he let his mate walk him back toward the palace.
Yes, the concerned Elf thought perhaps Aragorn now needed healing.
As he burst through the main palace gates Aragorn sharply refused help from his startled guards and maintained his steady jog into the city proper. His subjects stared in surprise as they realized who urgently pushed past them. Please move. He gave up murmuring apologies and simply began using physical force. Market days in the city meant thick crowds. It meant strangers. Did it mean danger? Aragorn desperately gazed over the faces of his people, yes his devoted people who were happy and safe in his strong realm. Thank the Gods so far no one looked alarmed or panicked. That meant nothing foul had befallen anyone. No beautiful swarthy young man lay spilling his precious blood across the tidy cobbles.
Fifth level. The King’s strained breathing rasped in cruel sucking pants. The uncomfortable tight feeling determinedly wove around his overworked heart and pressed. Still Aragorn frantically pushed on, staring, seeking, resting his broad palm on Andúril’s carved hilt. He almost wanted to draw his sword and command people to clear the way for him. Tyrant. Dismiss such nonsensical thoughts. More of his beloved subjects merely out on a fine fall day enjoying their simple daily rituals and marketing swam in his way. Still no murder or mayhem tainted their secure world.
Fourth level. Dark spots began dancing before Aragorn’s vision. His rapidly beating heart clutched and sputtered. When Aragorn stumbled and rammed into a finely-dressed merchant the man whirled and began complaining until he abruptly realized who half held onto his arms. “Sire?”
“Forgive me.” A panting in anguish Aragorn pushed on and finally saw the third level gate. His quick steps slowed to a walk. By the Gods his left leg began refusing his commands. A muscle cramp, surely that’s all it was. Aragorn pushed his body while in an emotional panic so his muscles merely acted stubborn. Nothing more. No. The King’s pulse sang a savage red bloodsong into his ears. Inhale. Exhale. Look, nothing had happened to Orlando. He had made it to the practice area. No one would dare attack him there. Calm down. All was well.
Despite the cool air Aragorn’s fine green woolen tunic wetly embraced his muscular body. The material dripped with sweat. The normally comfortable garment felt so heavy and constricting against his broad chest. Still trying to calm his labored breathing Aragorn limped down the stone hall to the practice area and collapsed against the cold hard wall. Calm. Stop.
Three young recruits cautiously stared at the panting, relentlessly pale King. One youth summoned the nerve to speak. “Sire? Are... you all right?”
Words. Speak to the youth. Ease his obvious fear. “I am just a little winded. I’m fine.” As if to mock his words Aragorn’s heart muttered and began skipping beats. He commanded the stubborn pump to act normally. In reply his mighty muscle strained against his very flesh. Stop. He was the King. His own body still wouldn’t listen to him? He had conquered something like this before. Why not now? Straightening up Aragorn pushed away from the wall and somehow hauled his protesting body up the stairs to the wooden observation area.
When Aragorn reached the stair’s top his faltering eyesight fixed on a beautiful slender back clad in a deep red tunic and crowned by a luxurious dark mane of soft, enlivened by turquiose beads hair. Merry laughter and a teasing rush of a foreign language pushed past the relentless thunder growling in his ears. Odd. Before today he had never heard his precious Orlando speak in his native tongue. It was a musical exotic sound, not as magical as Elvish but still fascinating.
How fine to hear his young lover laugh in teasing joy. Aragorn didn’t think he had ever heard such an honest, open sound dance from his lover’s lips. Two firsts today.
As he stared at his Orlando Aragorn’s heart stuttered then the muscle began beating erratically. Red pain blossomed against his thick chest. Slow strange numbness flowed down his left arm like a rushing moon-pulled tide. A soft helpless moan ripped from his lips. Very well, three firsts. Today his stubborn heart refused to normalize. Not good.
Aragorn held out his quivering right hand toward that dear young beauty glowing like a beloved gem in the sun. His dry lips parted and croaked out one pleading word. “O-O-Orlando?”
As Aragorn’s sight dimmed he saw Orlando’s beautiful face shade from happy welcome to pure panic. His sublime face loomed closer like a fallen star swooping from the heavens. “Aragorn! My lover, what...Guards! Come quickly, the King is ill! Hurry!” Strong hands, yes, strong hands that could be tender in love yet summon up the strength to kill gently lowered Aragorn’s limp body to the ground.
Aragorn felt tears spatter against his numb face. His nose smelled clean sweet flesh. Before a filthy hazy caul obliterated Aragorn’s waning vision the stricken King saw thick dark locks of hair kissed by the sun...how lovely... just so...lo...
As he helped his lover to the wooden platform Orlando began howling in a primal panic. What was wrong with his beloved? Aragorn’s handsome face looked so still, so pale. The Haradrim shook himself and halted his noise. Foolish. Stop. He finally noticed that tears streaked his face.
Guards rushed up and gently lifted the King’s body down the stairs. A stretcher kept at hand for the possible fencing accident appeared and six strong guards ran at a pace designed to challenge the wind. Orlando sprinted along with them, his wide dark eyes glued to his lover’s ghastly pale complexion. Pushing himself he ran before the guards, sternly ordering the road to be cleared. “Make way! The King is ill! Make way! Clear a path!” People parted before the panting Haradrim’s assault. When the people heard Orlando’s ringing cries they fell into gasping sorrow. Shock overtook them as they realized their King had fallen. How? Why?
Orlando stepped back and let the guards carry Aragorn into the Houses of Healing. When he attempted to follow junior Healers clustered around and refused him entrance. Snarling in rage Orlando fiercely pushed them away. He trotted down the whitewashed corridors until he saw the six panting guards exiting a room. Instead of halting Orlando slipped into the room and numbly watched as Healers bustled around, they removing Aragorn’s clothing and examining his muscular chest. One healer shook his head. “It’s the King’s heart again.”
Again? A startled Orlando swayed on his feet before he leaned against the wall. No. No. He wanted to ask a thousand questions but his voice remained sucked into his trembling soul.
What had happened to Aragorn? Why had he come down to the practice area?
Pausing in his directing a Healer stared at Orlando. Why was that guard out of uniform? Why did he cry? Such a loyal bunch. “Can you summon the Queen?”
Dread filled Orlando’s own wildly beating heart. Arwen. They wanted him to tell Arwen that her beloved husband had fallen? Of course he should go. Orlando owed his Queen that small grace. “Healer, before I go to the Queen tell me shall the King live?”
A senior Healer replied without looking up from measuring herbs. “Of course the King will live. He’s a strong man and extremely healthy for his advanced age. Unfortunately King Aragorn suffers from a mild heart condition; his brave blood runs too passionately in his veins. I have examined the King before, yes, we all have so we know his immediate needs. Do you know what King Aragorn was doing? He has been warned against excessive physical stress.”
The quiet words shook Orlando. So Aragorn possessed his own secrets. His voice emerged in a hushed whisper. “No. I was already at the practice ring. I turned around because Aragorn called my name and I found him falling to the viewing platform. But you are positive he will live? Aragorn will be well?”
The Healer arched a brow at Orlando’s casual use of the King’s name and glanced up. His eyes widened in surprise. Ahh, now the accent made sense; he spoke to the King’s Haradrim bodyguard. “Absolutely. The King will be active soon enough. But I would like the Queen here for him when he awakens.”
A shameful jealousy welled up before Orlando silently banished it from his soul. He had no right. “I shall fetch her here.” Wait. Could he... Orlando stepped toward the Healers surrounding his lover. His hand reached out then helplessly dropped against his hip. No. Now was not the time. The faintest whisper broke free. “I love you so much.”
Summoning up his strangled breath Orlando ran from the room and traveled up to the palace. As he ran his own firmly beating heart rejoiced over the Healer’s words: his Aragorn would live. If Orlando could rip out his own healthy heart and present it to help his lover he would do it without question. His lover could not die. Orlando could and he would for his beloved.
How sad to learn that a loving man with such a noble, giving spirit owned a beautiful body hiding a secret danger. A thought glowed in Orlando’s anxious mind; Aragorn was the opposite of Orlando. Orlando possessed a young, healthy body with a tormented soul. A soul that Aragorn helped heal.
Another less charitable thought refused to leave Orlando’s mind. The Haradrim tried batting it away but it relentlessly fluttered and swooped against him. No. He wasn’t responsible for his lover’s attack. No.
Or was he?