Chapter 6
Legolas fired his arrows into the shadows beneath the leafy peaks of the tall looming Mallorns. What he had seen would have made him question his sanity had it not been for the blood curdling screams of the poor Archers who were snatched in blinding stealth and dragged away into the mist. The Wood Elves gaped in stunned silence.
“MOVE!” he screamed at the frozen Archers. They broke formation, disoriented by the sudden and unprecedented silence of the forest, scampering this way and that.
“In formation!” yelled their King. Legolas ascended the huge Mallorn where the ominous black shapes had disappeared into the shadows. He climbed higher, clearly hearing the shrill screams of one of the hapless victims still struggling in the embrace of the foe. “I am coming,” he yelled, “hang on!”
The Elf’s screams suddenly ceased with a gag and Legolas stopped, perched on a very high branch, and strained to listen. If only the tree would talk to him, but the bark itself shivered beneath his hands in stark terror at what now sat somewhere in its branches. The sky was growing a pale silver as morning approached but he could see nothing.
He placed his hands on the rough bark and mentally sent a song of reassurance and pleading to the spirit of the tree. “Come, Grandfather, speak now to me…let me help you and us all…” he pleaded in the ancient tongue.
A dark vision floated up to him from the living wood beneath his hands…teeth, blackness, hunger, behind you….Legolas reared around, arrow raised reflexively, and pierced the hideous monster that loamed over him into an almost invisible black eye socket with his slim golden shaft. The beast roared in violent surprise and toppled from the branch. Legolas leapt out of the way of a second nightmarish thing that lunged at him. Long skeletal black hands reached for him but closed on empty space. He instinctively flung himself, mind reeling with horror, into the slippery red tangle of oozing vines and wrapped the slick rope expertly around his ankle.
As he had done hundreds of times in his youth, he flung himself off the tree limb like a diver and plummeted down the length of the long elastic creeper, free falling at a blinding speed, the thick gnarled branches seemed to part for him. The demonic creature lumbered down through the tree limbs after him, long dragon like tail whipping from side to side, smashing thick branches into splinters as it went. Falling further behind the golden Elf, it took a flying leap and snatched at Legolas’s slippery vine. The vine snapped back.
Legolas deftly untwisted his foot from around the tendril and flew into the air in a rather graceful swan dive. His hand came down unerringly on a single rope amongst a snarl of green vines that unfurled and dropped him over the edge of a ravine. He held on with wet slippery hands, as he swung through the air like a trapeze artist. The arrows of his Archers flew past him at the creatures that emerged from the trees above them. Legolas swung his body past the vast opening in the earth below to the heavy bough of an ancient Mallorn that daringly grew over the ledge where the ground dropped away.
He landed on the fat bough and balancing easily on the balls of his feet, he pulled out his arrows and sent them flying, two at a time, at the nightmarish creatures that came out of nowhere. Somewhere beneath him the forest floor was clamoring to life with soldiers and Lórien Elves who sent their arrows into the trees that hid the strange monstrous things.
The arrows bounced off the armored exterior skin of the monsters and Legolas cursed, as more screams of agony pierced the cacophony of the woods. Elves and Men were being picked off one by one. He leapt from his branch to another higher bough and took aim for the eye sockets of the beast that turned towards him. The arrow missed the obscure target and bounced off the hard black shell. His blood froze in terror as the elongated protruding head swung heavily in his direction, dripping metallic fangs bared in a grimace of anger. He let his arrows fly at the grotesque thing as it jumped from tree to tree towards him. Legolas cursed as his arrows bounced off the thing’s shiny black exoskeleton. He looked frantically around him, as he edged his way backward out to the end of the tree limb. The ravine was below him and there were no other trees to leap to from his current position.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Aragorn looked on in horror at the hideous creatures that slithered out of the shaded Mallorns. He and Haldir had followed the Wood Elves who lead them unerringly to the heart of the battle. Aragorn left most of Gondor’s army behind to follow on the ground, while he raced through the trees alongside the Marchwarden, terror seizing a cold grip around his heart that he might be too late to help his golden lover. Now he and Haldir stood on a tree limb watching in disbelief at what pursued the King of Mirkwood. It was something so hideous as to rival a Balrog for the sheer aura of pure menace it exuded. Lumbering forth, as if from a nightmare, it slithered towards the lone Elf.
Aragorn grabbed Haldir’s arm and gestured to the enormous length of red vine. Haldir nodded and gripped the slippery end, wrapping it several times around the Man’s middle.
“It is elastic and will stretch ten fold,” he said nervously through gritted teeth, to the Human. “The trick is to hold on. Grasp the knot lest it slip loose.”
The Marchwarden glanced at the nightmare thing of fangs and spikes that closed in on the beautiful Elf King. “I will try to cover you, aim for that limb, over the ravine! It will be difficult for the thing to follow there!”
Aragorn nodded and took a flying leap through the air, the long rope of vine unfurling behind him. He sailed on the wind hoping the vine of the ancient Mallorn was going to be long enough and that his aim was true. It was going to be close…
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Legolas crouched low to the branch as the dark menace started to climb out onto his bough. It moved reptilian like on all fours, yet resembled a giant prehistoric insect. It glared at him in cold alien intelligence, teeth glittering malevolently. Legolas backed up and looked around him frantically as the vicious jaws opened in anticipation of the kill. He screamed a war cry and stood on the edge of the tree branch prepared to meet the nightmare on his feet, the blade of his long knife glinting in the rising sun, his hair a cloud of gold around his face as it lifted on the breeze. The black terror rose up, as well, and towered over him with an unearthly shriek in response to the Elf’s challenge.
“Come on then!” screamed the Archer. With an answering snarl, the monster leapt for its golden prize …it’s black long fingers brushed on the Elvish pale skin before the small glowing being was snatched from its grasp. Aragorn slammed into the poised Archer, as he flung madly through the air on his vine, and gripped the lithe body to him. The impact knocked the Elf’s breath from him and Legolas hung motionless in the Man’s grasp as they flew through the tree limbs.
They catapulted over another fat bough of the ancient Mallorn. The elastic vine stretched and snapped back as it caught on the branch, hurling them around the thick bough and over the mouth of the ravine. Aragorn hung on to the limp body as they swung back and forth in a wide arc, dangling over the long empty drop below.
Slowly Legolas stirred in his arms, and opening wide sapphire eyes, the gorgeous Elf stared at the impossible sight of the King of Gondor. He clutched convulsively at the body of the Human as they swung back and forth over the perilous rocky drop.
“Aragorn! What do you think YOU are doing here?”
The flashing eyes of the Elf King sizzled in indigo fire. Aragorn smiled grimly, a mixture of exasperation and profound relief on his handsome features, “Saving your life,… for one thing. Ungrateful Elf!”
“Ungrateful?!” sputtered the enraged Monarch. “You have the nerve to …to..”
His speech was cut short as the vine they clung to jerked. They both looked up in horror to find a black monstrous creature of gnashing teeth and clawing hands experiment with the slippery red vine. It picked up the vine which slipped from it’s grasp a second time, dropping the two dangling beings another foot or so down from their hanging perch, spinning like a shiny bauble. Aragorn cursed as he clutched onto the Elf tightly.
“Well, if you’re saving my life, arrogant Man, I suggest you do something about this situation you’ve gotten us into,” snapped the Elf, angrily.
Aragorn glared at the sexy being in his arms, but bit off a retort as their vine was given another violent shake. He gasped and clung to the slim body in his arms, lest he drop the precious being that he had traveled so far to find.
“Legolas, use your bow. I’ve got hold of you!”
The Archer let go of his grip on the Man and reached for his bow, fitting it with an arrow. He glanced at Aragorn solemnly. “Hold onto me,” he said, as he began to climb up the Man’s body to get a better shot.
Aragorn whispered, “I will never let you go, Meleth nin.” He felt the Elf stiffen momentarily, then the Elf climbed higher, so that Aragorn clasped his arms around the Elf’s waist, Legolas’s legs wrapped around his chest.
Legolas notched an arrow into his bow and took aim. He hesitated. The hideous creature had wrapped its long spiked tail around the bough and slithered down towards him, on the slippery vine. Merely a foot away, it bared its long silver dripping fangs, then opened its huge snarling mouth, to reveal the nightmare of a smaller snappish set of jaws nested impossibly inside the hooded black head. Like a hidden viper, the small sharp jaws struck out at the Elf with a vicious snap. Legolas cried out, ducking.
“Aim for its eyes!” cried the Man, who held him in a steel grip.
“WHAT eyes?!” yelled the Archer as he ducked another violent snapping of the small jaws that lunged for him.
“The ones above the second mouth!” screamed the Ranger.
Legolas took aim and as the razor sharp jaws of the creature retracted, preparing to snap at the Archer again, Legolas let his arrow fly. The long golden shaft buried itself into the monster’s skull behind the eye socket. The huge dragon like body froze. Then in slow motion it toppled off the vine, past the two clinging beings. Legolas dropped into the Man’s arms, and was wrapped in a tight embrace.
“You did it, Melethron!” whispered the Man into the silky soft blonde mane.
“Yes, I guess we did it,” came the soft response from the being that clung to him.
The wind picked up slightly and their vine twirled lightly in the breeze. They hung suspended, like a jewel, wrapped tightly around each other, breaths coming harshly, hearts pounding. Legolas breathed in the long forgotten scent of the Man. The brown curls tickled his nose. He could feel the Human’s pounding heart against his own chest. The familiar strong arms wrapped around him tighter even than was necessary. Legs entwined about each other’s bodies.
He was afraid to look at the Man and the familiar pain in his heart began to twist and stab at him again. It scared him. He had come so close to death the last time. He could not afford to let that happen again. Mirkwood needed him, now more than ever!
It did not help that the Man’s hands were rubbing obsessively over his body or that the Man was now breathing into his ear. “I have missed you, Melethron.” The Man’s voice was thick with unshed tears. The stabbing pain in his heart redoubled. Legolas reared back in fright but anger flashed in his eyes. He would have pried himself loose from the Man in an instant had not the certainty of instant death upon the rocky terrain below stopped him from implementing that plan.
“Dare you call me that!” he spat in venomous rage. “Do you have any idea what your folly has done? Now you compound that misadventure in love by declaring to me such endearments when your WIFE is at home awaiting your return?”
Aragorn blanched and was grateful to the mysterious ways of the Valar for the sharp rocks below, for he knew without doubt, only the vast gully beneath their feet and a promise of certain death could have kept his angry lover in his arms at that moment. He decided to make the most of the opportunity.
Leaning forward, the Elf rearing back with widening eyes of disbelief, he brought his mouth hungrily onto the Elf King’s. Long had he dreamed of this moment, to sate his thirst for the sweet elixir of his lover’s kiss. His tongue plundered the warm depths as the sweet creature in his arms gasped and sputtered at the unabashed and unapologetic act. The Elf’s protests were muffled by the kiss, and Aragorn poured into it all his ardor, love, and desire that had built up in him over the last five years. The Elf’s angry objections slowly subsided and turned, against his will, into moans of desire and longing that washed over them both. Barely mindful of the swaying motion of their hanging perch, they clung to one another, caught in the sharp edge of profound need and pure bliss.
When Aragorn pulled back from the kiss, just enough to breathe, he whispered against the sweet bruised lips of the Archer, “I won’t ever leave you again, my Love.” He looked deeply into the shining blue orbs. “I would rather die than be parted from you. I will give up Gondor if that is what it takes to be with you. You are my Life.” He took the sweet lips again, and this time they parted like the seas to accept him eagerly. The Elf’s hot tongue came out to greet him and they drank deeply of each other after a five year long drought.
When at last the kiss ended, Legolas looked into the misty eyes of the King of Gondor and breathed a sigh of deepest satisfaction. His mind still warred with him over what had just happened but his heart felt as though it would burst free of its long caged captivity and fly around the Man who was it’s liberator. Before words could be uttered by either of the two Monarchs a throat cleared near by. Disorientation took over as they both tore their gazes free of one another’s face, to find their hanging bower had been slowly and carefully raised to safety, by a group of elves and men working together as they straddled the hanging bough of the Mallorn.
Haldir grasped the vine at the front of the line, and behind him sat Faramir. The group of rescuers gaped slack jawed at the embraced couple. Finally, the Gondorian leaned over to the Marchwarden and said in a conspiratorial voice, loud enough to be heard by everyone there, “I told you relations between Men and Elves were better than rumors had led us to believe.”
A few chuckles arose from both Humans and Elves alike, but were quickly squelched by the twin stern looks of a Marchwarden and an embarrassed Elf King. Aragorn recklessly threw Faramir a wink as he and his precious bundle were helped off the slippery vine. They were both covered in red Mallorn sap and smelled of Elder flowers.
“Where are the creatures?” asked the King of Mirkwood, eyeing the branches of the trees around them, apprehensively.
“It appears as the sun grew higher in the sky, they receded to the darkness of the tunnels below,” said Haldir. “There,” he pointed, “in the ravine there are entrances to the underground.”
“It is as Gandalf had described what appeared in Galadriel’s vision,” said Aragorn, clutching the shoulders of the Elf King, unable to relinquish his desire to touch the vision now made flesh again.
“But where is the Istari?” asked Haldir, drawing the Man’s attention. Legolas self consciously stepped out from under the Man’s possessive hands.
“He said he would arrive as soon as he consulted with Lord Elrond,” said Aragorn. “In the mean time, it appears we are safe as long the sun is in the sky. We have that long to prepare for what we do next.”
“I suggest,” said Haldir, “you two get washed, first, before you attract spiders with that Mallorn smell. My Liege,” he bowed to the Mirkwood King, “We should fall back to the Lake of Esgaroth to regroup and plan for our attack.”
“Thank you, Marchwarden,” said the seemingly disoriented King. Legolas looked askance at the Human standing beside him as if Aragorn’s sudden appearance were more of a shock than the monsters now invading his Kingdom.
Haldir stepped forward and placed a firm hand on the young King’s shoulder. The Man’s presence was obviously proving to be a distraction.
The Marchwarden’s strong touch drew the Mirkwood Elf’s focus. “That is an excellent idea, Marchwarden. Will you please see to it?” Legolas’s blue eyes locked on Haldir with a silent plea.
Haldir bowed his head gravely, but did not release his hold on the younger Elf. He motioned to the group of Elven archers to descend. Faramir shouted orders to the men to do the same and followed them down. Legolas scrupulously avoided eye contact with the King of Gondor, and allowed him self to be lead by the Marchwarden, who had stationed himself protectively by his shoulder.
“Legolas?” Aragorn made a move to grasp the Elf by the arm only to be held back by another’s hand on his chest.
“Please! Aragorn…this is not the time,” whispered the distraught young Elf King. Legolas turned away and Aragorn found himself staring instead into the glittering eyes of Haldir.
The Marchwarden’s hand pressed against the Man’s chest in warning. “You heard the King of Mirkwood, Human. We have grave matters to attend to here.”
Aragorn looked down at the halting hand on his chest.
The Marchwarden of the Galadhrim slowly withdrew his hand and placed a guiding arm around Legolas’s shoulders as he escorted the Mirkwood King to the safety of the ground below. Aragorn frowned. He watched his lover cling to the solid strength of his new found protector and new emotion began to simmer within the Man’s chest: jealousy.
“MOVE!” he screamed at the frozen Archers. They broke formation, disoriented by the sudden and unprecedented silence of the forest, scampering this way and that.
“In formation!” yelled their King. Legolas ascended the huge Mallorn where the ominous black shapes had disappeared into the shadows. He climbed higher, clearly hearing the shrill screams of one of the hapless victims still struggling in the embrace of the foe. “I am coming,” he yelled, “hang on!”
The Elf’s screams suddenly ceased with a gag and Legolas stopped, perched on a very high branch, and strained to listen. If only the tree would talk to him, but the bark itself shivered beneath his hands in stark terror at what now sat somewhere in its branches. The sky was growing a pale silver as morning approached but he could see nothing.
He placed his hands on the rough bark and mentally sent a song of reassurance and pleading to the spirit of the tree. “Come, Grandfather, speak now to me…let me help you and us all…” he pleaded in the ancient tongue.
A dark vision floated up to him from the living wood beneath his hands…teeth, blackness, hunger, behind you….Legolas reared around, arrow raised reflexively, and pierced the hideous monster that loamed over him into an almost invisible black eye socket with his slim golden shaft. The beast roared in violent surprise and toppled from the branch. Legolas leapt out of the way of a second nightmarish thing that lunged at him. Long skeletal black hands reached for him but closed on empty space. He instinctively flung himself, mind reeling with horror, into the slippery red tangle of oozing vines and wrapped the slick rope expertly around his ankle.
As he had done hundreds of times in his youth, he flung himself off the tree limb like a diver and plummeted down the length of the long elastic creeper, free falling at a blinding speed, the thick gnarled branches seemed to part for him. The demonic creature lumbered down through the tree limbs after him, long dragon like tail whipping from side to side, smashing thick branches into splinters as it went. Falling further behind the golden Elf, it took a flying leap and snatched at Legolas’s slippery vine. The vine snapped back.
Legolas deftly untwisted his foot from around the tendril and flew into the air in a rather graceful swan dive. His hand came down unerringly on a single rope amongst a snarl of green vines that unfurled and dropped him over the edge of a ravine. He held on with wet slippery hands, as he swung through the air like a trapeze artist. The arrows of his Archers flew past him at the creatures that emerged from the trees above them. Legolas swung his body past the vast opening in the earth below to the heavy bough of an ancient Mallorn that daringly grew over the ledge where the ground dropped away.
He landed on the fat bough and balancing easily on the balls of his feet, he pulled out his arrows and sent them flying, two at a time, at the nightmarish creatures that came out of nowhere. Somewhere beneath him the forest floor was clamoring to life with soldiers and Lórien Elves who sent their arrows into the trees that hid the strange monstrous things.
The arrows bounced off the armored exterior skin of the monsters and Legolas cursed, as more screams of agony pierced the cacophony of the woods. Elves and Men were being picked off one by one. He leapt from his branch to another higher bough and took aim for the eye sockets of the beast that turned towards him. The arrow missed the obscure target and bounced off the hard black shell. His blood froze in terror as the elongated protruding head swung heavily in his direction, dripping metallic fangs bared in a grimace of anger. He let his arrows fly at the grotesque thing as it jumped from tree to tree towards him. Legolas cursed as his arrows bounced off the thing’s shiny black exoskeleton. He looked frantically around him, as he edged his way backward out to the end of the tree limb. The ravine was below him and there were no other trees to leap to from his current position.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Aragorn looked on in horror at the hideous creatures that slithered out of the shaded Mallorns. He and Haldir had followed the Wood Elves who lead them unerringly to the heart of the battle. Aragorn left most of Gondor’s army behind to follow on the ground, while he raced through the trees alongside the Marchwarden, terror seizing a cold grip around his heart that he might be too late to help his golden lover. Now he and Haldir stood on a tree limb watching in disbelief at what pursued the King of Mirkwood. It was something so hideous as to rival a Balrog for the sheer aura of pure menace it exuded. Lumbering forth, as if from a nightmare, it slithered towards the lone Elf.
Aragorn grabbed Haldir’s arm and gestured to the enormous length of red vine. Haldir nodded and gripped the slippery end, wrapping it several times around the Man’s middle.
“It is elastic and will stretch ten fold,” he said nervously through gritted teeth, to the Human. “The trick is to hold on. Grasp the knot lest it slip loose.”
The Marchwarden glanced at the nightmare thing of fangs and spikes that closed in on the beautiful Elf King. “I will try to cover you, aim for that limb, over the ravine! It will be difficult for the thing to follow there!”
Aragorn nodded and took a flying leap through the air, the long rope of vine unfurling behind him. He sailed on the wind hoping the vine of the ancient Mallorn was going to be long enough and that his aim was true. It was going to be close…
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Legolas crouched low to the branch as the dark menace started to climb out onto his bough. It moved reptilian like on all fours, yet resembled a giant prehistoric insect. It glared at him in cold alien intelligence, teeth glittering malevolently. Legolas backed up and looked around him frantically as the vicious jaws opened in anticipation of the kill. He screamed a war cry and stood on the edge of the tree branch prepared to meet the nightmare on his feet, the blade of his long knife glinting in the rising sun, his hair a cloud of gold around his face as it lifted on the breeze. The black terror rose up, as well, and towered over him with an unearthly shriek in response to the Elf’s challenge.
“Come on then!” screamed the Archer. With an answering snarl, the monster leapt for its golden prize …it’s black long fingers brushed on the Elvish pale skin before the small glowing being was snatched from its grasp. Aragorn slammed into the poised Archer, as he flung madly through the air on his vine, and gripped the lithe body to him. The impact knocked the Elf’s breath from him and Legolas hung motionless in the Man’s grasp as they flew through the tree limbs.
They catapulted over another fat bough of the ancient Mallorn. The elastic vine stretched and snapped back as it caught on the branch, hurling them around the thick bough and over the mouth of the ravine. Aragorn hung on to the limp body as they swung back and forth in a wide arc, dangling over the long empty drop below.
Slowly Legolas stirred in his arms, and opening wide sapphire eyes, the gorgeous Elf stared at the impossible sight of the King of Gondor. He clutched convulsively at the body of the Human as they swung back and forth over the perilous rocky drop.
“Aragorn! What do you think YOU are doing here?”
The flashing eyes of the Elf King sizzled in indigo fire. Aragorn smiled grimly, a mixture of exasperation and profound relief on his handsome features, “Saving your life,… for one thing. Ungrateful Elf!”
“Ungrateful?!” sputtered the enraged Monarch. “You have the nerve to …to..”
His speech was cut short as the vine they clung to jerked. They both looked up in horror to find a black monstrous creature of gnashing teeth and clawing hands experiment with the slippery red vine. It picked up the vine which slipped from it’s grasp a second time, dropping the two dangling beings another foot or so down from their hanging perch, spinning like a shiny bauble. Aragorn cursed as he clutched onto the Elf tightly.
“Well, if you’re saving my life, arrogant Man, I suggest you do something about this situation you’ve gotten us into,” snapped the Elf, angrily.
Aragorn glared at the sexy being in his arms, but bit off a retort as their vine was given another violent shake. He gasped and clung to the slim body in his arms, lest he drop the precious being that he had traveled so far to find.
“Legolas, use your bow. I’ve got hold of you!”
The Archer let go of his grip on the Man and reached for his bow, fitting it with an arrow. He glanced at Aragorn solemnly. “Hold onto me,” he said, as he began to climb up the Man’s body to get a better shot.
Aragorn whispered, “I will never let you go, Meleth nin.” He felt the Elf stiffen momentarily, then the Elf climbed higher, so that Aragorn clasped his arms around the Elf’s waist, Legolas’s legs wrapped around his chest.
Legolas notched an arrow into his bow and took aim. He hesitated. The hideous creature had wrapped its long spiked tail around the bough and slithered down towards him, on the slippery vine. Merely a foot away, it bared its long silver dripping fangs, then opened its huge snarling mouth, to reveal the nightmare of a smaller snappish set of jaws nested impossibly inside the hooded black head. Like a hidden viper, the small sharp jaws struck out at the Elf with a vicious snap. Legolas cried out, ducking.
“Aim for its eyes!” cried the Man, who held him in a steel grip.
“WHAT eyes?!” yelled the Archer as he ducked another violent snapping of the small jaws that lunged for him.
“The ones above the second mouth!” screamed the Ranger.
Legolas took aim and as the razor sharp jaws of the creature retracted, preparing to snap at the Archer again, Legolas let his arrow fly. The long golden shaft buried itself into the monster’s skull behind the eye socket. The huge dragon like body froze. Then in slow motion it toppled off the vine, past the two clinging beings. Legolas dropped into the Man’s arms, and was wrapped in a tight embrace.
“You did it, Melethron!” whispered the Man into the silky soft blonde mane.
“Yes, I guess we did it,” came the soft response from the being that clung to him.
The wind picked up slightly and their vine twirled lightly in the breeze. They hung suspended, like a jewel, wrapped tightly around each other, breaths coming harshly, hearts pounding. Legolas breathed in the long forgotten scent of the Man. The brown curls tickled his nose. He could feel the Human’s pounding heart against his own chest. The familiar strong arms wrapped around him tighter even than was necessary. Legs entwined about each other’s bodies.
He was afraid to look at the Man and the familiar pain in his heart began to twist and stab at him again. It scared him. He had come so close to death the last time. He could not afford to let that happen again. Mirkwood needed him, now more than ever!
It did not help that the Man’s hands were rubbing obsessively over his body or that the Man was now breathing into his ear. “I have missed you, Melethron.” The Man’s voice was thick with unshed tears. The stabbing pain in his heart redoubled. Legolas reared back in fright but anger flashed in his eyes. He would have pried himself loose from the Man in an instant had not the certainty of instant death upon the rocky terrain below stopped him from implementing that plan.
“Dare you call me that!” he spat in venomous rage. “Do you have any idea what your folly has done? Now you compound that misadventure in love by declaring to me such endearments when your WIFE is at home awaiting your return?”
Aragorn blanched and was grateful to the mysterious ways of the Valar for the sharp rocks below, for he knew without doubt, only the vast gully beneath their feet and a promise of certain death could have kept his angry lover in his arms at that moment. He decided to make the most of the opportunity.
Leaning forward, the Elf rearing back with widening eyes of disbelief, he brought his mouth hungrily onto the Elf King’s. Long had he dreamed of this moment, to sate his thirst for the sweet elixir of his lover’s kiss. His tongue plundered the warm depths as the sweet creature in his arms gasped and sputtered at the unabashed and unapologetic act. The Elf’s protests were muffled by the kiss, and Aragorn poured into it all his ardor, love, and desire that had built up in him over the last five years. The Elf’s angry objections slowly subsided and turned, against his will, into moans of desire and longing that washed over them both. Barely mindful of the swaying motion of their hanging perch, they clung to one another, caught in the sharp edge of profound need and pure bliss.
When Aragorn pulled back from the kiss, just enough to breathe, he whispered against the sweet bruised lips of the Archer, “I won’t ever leave you again, my Love.” He looked deeply into the shining blue orbs. “I would rather die than be parted from you. I will give up Gondor if that is what it takes to be with you. You are my Life.” He took the sweet lips again, and this time they parted like the seas to accept him eagerly. The Elf’s hot tongue came out to greet him and they drank deeply of each other after a five year long drought.
When at last the kiss ended, Legolas looked into the misty eyes of the King of Gondor and breathed a sigh of deepest satisfaction. His mind still warred with him over what had just happened but his heart felt as though it would burst free of its long caged captivity and fly around the Man who was it’s liberator. Before words could be uttered by either of the two Monarchs a throat cleared near by. Disorientation took over as they both tore their gazes free of one another’s face, to find their hanging bower had been slowly and carefully raised to safety, by a group of elves and men working together as they straddled the hanging bough of the Mallorn.
Haldir grasped the vine at the front of the line, and behind him sat Faramir. The group of rescuers gaped slack jawed at the embraced couple. Finally, the Gondorian leaned over to the Marchwarden and said in a conspiratorial voice, loud enough to be heard by everyone there, “I told you relations between Men and Elves were better than rumors had led us to believe.”
A few chuckles arose from both Humans and Elves alike, but were quickly squelched by the twin stern looks of a Marchwarden and an embarrassed Elf King. Aragorn recklessly threw Faramir a wink as he and his precious bundle were helped off the slippery vine. They were both covered in red Mallorn sap and smelled of Elder flowers.
“Where are the creatures?” asked the King of Mirkwood, eyeing the branches of the trees around them, apprehensively.
“It appears as the sun grew higher in the sky, they receded to the darkness of the tunnels below,” said Haldir. “There,” he pointed, “in the ravine there are entrances to the underground.”
“It is as Gandalf had described what appeared in Galadriel’s vision,” said Aragorn, clutching the shoulders of the Elf King, unable to relinquish his desire to touch the vision now made flesh again.
“But where is the Istari?” asked Haldir, drawing the Man’s attention. Legolas self consciously stepped out from under the Man’s possessive hands.
“He said he would arrive as soon as he consulted with Lord Elrond,” said Aragorn. “In the mean time, it appears we are safe as long the sun is in the sky. We have that long to prepare for what we do next.”
“I suggest,” said Haldir, “you two get washed, first, before you attract spiders with that Mallorn smell. My Liege,” he bowed to the Mirkwood King, “We should fall back to the Lake of Esgaroth to regroup and plan for our attack.”
“Thank you, Marchwarden,” said the seemingly disoriented King. Legolas looked askance at the Human standing beside him as if Aragorn’s sudden appearance were more of a shock than the monsters now invading his Kingdom.
Haldir stepped forward and placed a firm hand on the young King’s shoulder. The Man’s presence was obviously proving to be a distraction.
The Marchwarden’s strong touch drew the Mirkwood Elf’s focus. “That is an excellent idea, Marchwarden. Will you please see to it?” Legolas’s blue eyes locked on Haldir with a silent plea.
Haldir bowed his head gravely, but did not release his hold on the younger Elf. He motioned to the group of Elven archers to descend. Faramir shouted orders to the men to do the same and followed them down. Legolas scrupulously avoided eye contact with the King of Gondor, and allowed him self to be lead by the Marchwarden, who had stationed himself protectively by his shoulder.
“Legolas?” Aragorn made a move to grasp the Elf by the arm only to be held back by another’s hand on his chest.
“Please! Aragorn…this is not the time,” whispered the distraught young Elf King. Legolas turned away and Aragorn found himself staring instead into the glittering eyes of Haldir.
The Marchwarden’s hand pressed against the Man’s chest in warning. “You heard the King of Mirkwood, Human. We have grave matters to attend to here.”
Aragorn looked down at the halting hand on his chest.
The Marchwarden of the Galadhrim slowly withdrew his hand and placed a guiding arm around Legolas’s shoulders as he escorted the Mirkwood King to the safety of the ground below. Aragorn frowned. He watched his lover cling to the solid strength of his new found protector and new emotion began to simmer within the Man’s chest: jealousy.
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