As Orlando perched on his narrow bed’s foot he groaned softly and stretched his slim arms over his head. Ha, he swore deep exhaustion cavorted in every muscle and twisted down to his hidden bones. He ached to his inner core. Imagine that he once considered Hallas to be a slave driver! General Bruscilous, the guard sword master, made old Hallas look tame. Strict, follow the rules Bruscilous resented Orlando’s sudden appearance into the palace guard recruits so he made sure he worked Orlando’s strong young body until the Haradrim wanted to curl into ball and scream in pain.
Yet Orlando had expected such harsh treatment. Harsh treatment was merely a fact of life and he could endure honest physical labor. Pushing his body to its limits held no problem for the young trainee. Keeping his mind focused proved far more difficult. Daily Orlando internalized any resentment and trained himself to embrace a cold, steely part of his personality. Actually that was Aragorn’s wise advice. His royal lover told Orlando to reign in his fiery passion and save all his lively warmth for when they were together. He told Orlando to protect his soul and ignore the pain.
Advice like that kept Orlando sane and whole.
Aragorn kept Orlando sane and whole.
Enough relaxing. Today Aragorn expected him immediately after practice so he’d lie in bed soon enough. As a joke Orlando didn’t even bother to bathe or change out of his sweat-soaked trainee uniform. Let Aragorn note just how eager Orlando was to see him. Yes, he’d slip to his royal lover covered in the day’s pungent sweat. A fond smile crossed Orlando’s lips. He knew his sharp scent would excite Aragorn. For some amusing reason battle sweat enhanced Aragorn’s lust more than any priceless perfume.
After Orlando locked away his precious sword in the spartan bedroom’s weapons cabinet he hastened across the back courtyard. Even after a month at the palace guard barracks Orlando had trouble accepting his new status. By now the guards knew him and merely winked him through the inner palace gates. He couldn’t understand why he was accepted. Didn’t they love their Queen? Orlando was an outsider, a Haradrim who nightly crept into their King’s bed. Why did they accept him?
Perhaps they loved their king well enough to fathom his basic need. In a dazzling moment of mutual trust Aragorn had told Orlando why he sought out other men. When those words fell upon his ears a determination blossomed in Orlando’s soul. Since he had endured such dire pain in his life Orlando felt the need to be Aragorn’s ultimate lover. This noble, kind man deserved Orlando’s complete devotion and the Haradrim had no problem offering solace. But he had a problem with trust. Trust came slowly.
After carefully strolling into the palace’s immediate boundaries Orlando finally reached the ancient king’s image. Two weeks ago Aragorn had patiently taught him the proper gestures to open the secret door. Once at the last inner panel Orlando merely pressed his medallion into a hidden slot and he entered his lover’s inner chambers.
Aragorn trusted him so much. Orlando slowly reached toward his beautiful trust and responded in kind.
As Orlando’s fingers touched the marble horse’s muzzle in the first step a hand grabbed his right shoulder with punishing strength. He found himself whirled around and shoved against the unyielding marble. His startled eyes met a piercing blue stare. “Tell me why do you lurk here? Who are you?”
Physical details flew at the Haradrim’s eyes in a blazing rush. Light blue eyes. A handsome, nay, beautiful young face which vaguely reminded him of...his lover’s. Long black hair and... by the Burning Sands look, this male owned pointed ears! Was this Aragorn’s son?
“Prince Eldarion?”
A suspicious expression now met Orlando’s stare. “Yes, I am the Prince. But who are you? I do not recognize you as someone who should be in the palace’s boundaries.” Those light eyes raked up and down Orlando’s body. “A trainee? You have no right to be in the inner palace! Answer me... who are you?”
Orlando struggled to remain calm. “My name is Orlando and I am indeed a palace guard trainee. I... I...” How could he tell the Prince that he came here to occupy his royal Father’s bed? Madness! “I come to visit... the King for...” For once his clever tongue failed Orlando.
The melodic foreign accent intensified the Prince’s stare. A Haradrim in a trainee uniform? This creature must be up to no good. Eldarion raised his own voice in sharp command. “Guards! Heed me, we have an intruder in the palace.” How did this trainee come this far?
What ill-luck! Orlando frantically shook his head. “Prince, please, I am not...”
“Be silent.”
Two guards, Orlando recognized them as Brilla and Tosca, appeared within seconds. Both had acted kind to him during his first month at the palace. “Yes, Prince Eldarion... oh... erm...” They stared at Orlando in open dismay before bowing to their Prince.
Eldarion observed their actions and frowned in displeasure. What was going on here? “Do you know this man?” As he spoke the Prince angrily shook Orlando’s shoulder.
Tosca assessed the tense situation. Not good, no, running a foul of the young Prince’s legendary temper was not good. The Prince had inherited all of the King’s temper with none of his tact. Gods, what could Tosca say? The older guard held no ill-will toward the young Haradrim; aye, today Tosca had spent some time practicing with him. The lad possessed heart and skills.
After bowing again Tosca gazed respectfully at Eldarion and carefully chose his words. “Yes, Prince. Orlando is a new trainee. He, erm, comes to visit your Father for private erm, fencing lessons. The King thinks he shows unique potential and...” An abrupt gesture from the Prince’s right hand made Tosca snap his lips shut and bow. He had tried!
Eldarion’s frown deepened into bitterness. He returned his cold stare to the man’s beautiful swarthy face, viewed his full lips, his rich chocolate brown eyes and lush long beaded hair. Ah, the problem suddenly became clear. This sun-burnished youth was the latest of his father’s pretty toys. How foul; a Haradrim? Trust his Father to find this one while Eldarion was away. Apparently visiting Annúminas a month ago proved a mistake; usually when Legolas came to visit Father behaved himself so Eldarion felt no qualms in leaving Minas Tirith. He didn’t know his Father had already secured a new lover. Bah, he had been caught off guard.
A furious Eldarion despised his Father’s young male toys. Yes, his Father’s weakness made him sick, especially when he chose men as young as his own son! Recently Eldarion made sure these pretty mistakes didn’t last. After being tempted with money or jewels suddenly the curs either broke off the affair or they slipped away to whatever dismal village they hailed from and never returned.
When would Father learn? When would he cease mocking his sacred marriage and shaming his royal family?
An anxious Orlando silently watched as Eldarion’s fair face turned harder then the marble pushing into his back. This male was truly Aragorn’s son? None of the king’s human kindness dwelled in his beautiful cold face. Was this son a true reflection of the Elven Queen? Wrathful, cold and unforgiving? Aside from his beauty Orlando found it difficult to believe that this male descended from the comforting Legolas’ fair shining race. What made him so cold?
As he glared at the young interloper a wonderful plan entered Eldarion’s mind. His false smile comforted none watching. “Well then, if he comes to visit Father I’d best make sure he arrives safely, eh? Come along, trainee.” Eldarion insultingly shoved Orlando forward and almost sent him to his knees
Enough. Bah, no one shoved him without reason. Instead of complying Orlando regained his footing and steadily stared at the Prince before he bowed with mocking respect. “My Lord Prince, I can make my way there on my own. I do not need a royal escort. Pray please do not go out of your way for me. I am sure escorting a mere trainee around court falls low upon your vital business list.”
Eldarion’s full lips twitched in annoyance. Ah, this pretty young toy possessed spirit and perhaps even intelligence. This Orlando sounded educated. How unusual. How difficult. Eldarion shaded his voice into raw threat encased in black velvet. “Well now, perhaps I want to show Father what a good son I am. Please, trainee, accompany me into the palace.”
This situation felt horrible. Since he saw no clear way out from this shame Orlando angrily inclined his head and silently followed Eldarion’s tall form. He darted a quick glance back at the two guards. Tosca frowned and shook his head in mute warning. Brilla looked extremely concerned.
That was not comforting.
A seething Eldarion paced quickly through the main palace doors and boldly ascended the grand marble staircase. As he followed Orlando felt noble eyes examine his unfamiliar face. This was so wrong. He prayed that they did not encounter Queen Arwen. That would be the crowning nadir; what would he do then? Turn, run and keep running until Minas Tirith and his beloved Aragorn became but a longing memory?
A casually clad young noble intercepted Eldarion’s swift advance. “Prince! How delightful to see you; I didn’t know you had arrived back. Will you grace tonight’s card tourney?”
“Of course, Daeron, I shall be delight to resume the game. But for now forgive me; I am hastening to deliver this pretty thing to my Father.”
Orlando swallowed and hung his head. Why was Eldarion doing this to him? Why was he upsetting the unspoken, unseen balance?
“Oh, then do not let me interfere, Prince.” Orlando heard the mocking sneer infect the noble’s cultured voice. He flicked his furious dark glare up and felt satisfied to see this simpering Daeron blink in surprise. Yes, best not to mock without reason, dog.
To Orlando’s amazement Daeron made no further comment. Did he look that murderous? He certainly felt such in his burning soul.
In the silence Eldarion mockingly flourished his long fingers toward the right. They continued on.
By luck no other royal family members saw them enter the elegant corridor leading to the King’s suite. Aldor and Eorler, the two burly transplanted Rohan guards on assignment to guard the royal corridor, bowed to Eldarion and blinked at seeing Orlando.
A few yards past the guards Eldarion slowed his walk then he halted and glared down at Orlando. Sometimes merely a stern admonishment worked to dismiss these annoyances. He grabbed Orlando’s left arm and leaned close. “Listen well, you craven thing. You are a mere spec in a long line of royal lovers. Do not think my Father feels anything of import for you. He merely enjoys a pleasing body in his bed and his foul need disgusts me. So, worm, enjoy your temporary triumph but do not be surprised when you are cast aside for another. You are nothing but a passing weakness, a sick lapse in his judgment. You mean nothing to him because you are nothing. Do you understand? Nothing. You are nothing!”
Nothing. The word burned into Orlando’s mind and touched emotional fuel. How dare this cruel Prince speak to Orlando with such casual insult? The rage that Orlando kept under control quickly burst into his mind. A sharp sneer twisted his lips. “You are wrong, Prince, utterly wrong. If I mean nothing to your Father then why did he present me his royal token?” Orlando’s slim fingers slid under his black tunic and defiantly held up the royal medallion.
A shocked Eldarion stared in amazement. His father had given this pretty creature his royal symbol? No. He had gone too far this time! Never had Father performed such a rash thing. Never!
Snarling under his breath Eldarion angrily smacked at Orlando’s hand. He whirled away then walked the last few feet to the royal suite. One capable fist, this feature inherited from his rugged father, rudely hammered upon the carved wood.
Now that Orlando’s rage had been released it fed on his memories. No. More words burst free. “Why are you treating me like this?”
“Because I loathe you.”
A sharp edgy laugh escaped Orlando’s lips. “Prince, you have no right to loathe me for you don’t know me. Aside from the King the habit of loathing and mistrust seem to flourish naturally in this city.”
Eldarion coldly stared down at Orlando. “I want to hear nothing more from your defiant foreign mouth.” He banged again.
Inside his bedroom Aragorn frowned in complete annoyance. As he awaited Orlando’s arrival he enjoyed a glass of wine and watched the late summer sunset paint the sky in bold rosy hues. Who knocked so rudely? After he set his goblet down the King rose from his settee, wrapped his casual robe around his naked torso and paced into his outer sitting room. This interruption best be crucial.
Another impertinent knock rattled the carved wood. Gods, even Halbarad didn’t dare knock so disrespectfully. Instead of speaking Aragorn yanked open the door. The sight of his obviously enraged son and an obviously discomforted Orlando shook his mind. What was this? “Son?”
Eldarion’s harsh tone offered no solace. “Father, I found this wretched trainee hovering about the palace grounds, aye, he skulked right at the Ciryaher Tower’s base. This smelly, slovenly thing claims he comes to... visit you. Is this true, Father?”
Aragorn’s dark eyebrows crinkled in vivid anger. Eldarion... ahh, his willful son knew exactly how to anger him but tonight he would not indulge theatrics. “Yes, Eldarion, Orlando has permission to visit me. I gain comfort from his visits. Now if you don’t mind...” Aragorn deliberately held his right hand out to welcome Orlando.
A shaken Orlando ignored the loving gesture and slipped past his lover. This distasteful situation undermined all his comfort. This discovery could mean the end of his succor. If the Prince held such loathing for him... would Aragorn give into his son?
Aragorn locked stares with his angry son. “Thank you for...”
“This time you go too far, Father. The blatant insult to your family is beyond belief. Yes, I think you need to assess your true priorities.” After offering his shocked Father a cutting smile Eldarion whirled on his heel and strode away.
By the Gods what prompted that verbal attack? Aragorn’s fists curled in fury. He almost hastened after his rude son and demanded an apology but that would only worsen matters. Yes, trust the touchy, rule-embracing Eldarion to make an uncomfortable scene.
Poor Orlando. What had happened? Aragorn padded back to his bedroom and found Orlando nursing a goblet of wine. His lovely body looked stiff yet oddly dejected. What had Eldarion said to him? Instead of asking Aragorn stool behind his lover and merely wrapped his arms around his lithe waist. He rested his face against the now familiar thick wavy mane. Mmm, his beautiful lover smelled of clean battle sweat. If not for the tension coursing through Orlando’s perfect body Aragorn would normally strip him naked and worship his delicious body.
Not now. Tonight... damn his son for being such a moral pest! Aragorn calmed himself down and rubbed his cheek against Orlando’s intoxicating hair. Ahh, Eldarion was not to blame. How could his son be blamed for loving his mother and wishing to protect her? Once Eldarion loved Aragorn to the point of worship. Unfortunately when Eldarion discovered, by accidentally seeing a passionate embrace, that his Father was a man possessing what Eldarion regarded as unnatural desires Eldarion withdrew his affections.
Aragorn hadn’t the nerve to admit such heartbreak. Instead he let everyone imagine that as he grew older the Prince had less time for his Father. Better that fantasy then the truth.
There was no way Aragorn could tell Eldarion about Arwen’s beloved understanding. Eldarion would never comprehend their loving pact. Someday his son might understand but... not now. Now he proved too young and rigid in his views.
But that was another time. Now Aragorn needed to deal with his lover’s upset. A lengthy silence from Orlando usually signaled something serious. Aragorn knew tonight he’d discover another ugly facet in his lover’s life. He had already heard of the beatings, the punishments, and the shame of being hated by his father. He knew Orlando came from a noble Haradrim family yet Orlando never slipped and revealed the name. He knew the man who had given Orlando his sword was his great uncle, not his grandfather. Orlando called him Grandfather because he protected Orlando from his cruel father as best he could.
What would tonight bring? Whatever Eldarion said to him had sparked a memory.
A shaken Orlando appreciated Aragorn’s loving respect for his approaching bleak mood. He finished his wine and poured out more. Nothing. Ahh, there was a word that unlocked a horrific memory: the first day he had been called nothing by his Father. Yes, the first day Orlando understood that he had no father except in a basic physical sense. Orlando realized an Orc might prove a better Father.
Yes, his Father called him nothing on the day he...Orlando’s aching mind choked on the abysmal memory. But there the pain hovered, and this, unlike the pebbles, was possibly one of the largest boulders of memory. After finishing this wine Orlando set the goblet down and turned to face his Aragorn. They shared a comforting kiss then Orlando pulled free and sank down against the cushions tossed before the open balcony doors.
Aragorn bit his lower lip. They had developed odd rituals; when Orlando wanted to reveal something of import he retreated to this little cushion oasis. Aragorn had tossed the cushions there so they could embrace, sip wine and watch the changing sky pass judgment on Middle Earth. He never realized their nest would become Orlando’s private confessional.
Very well. He poured them more wine and settled onto the cushion next to his young lover. Aragorn allowed himself one swift caress of Orlando’s tense back then he waited. This was an extremely long silence.
That promised an evil memory.
After another minute Orlando’s left fingers grasped Aragorn’s right hand. Aragorn gave his lover’s flesh a loving squeeze. Good, physical contact had been re-established. Another confessional rule; no devoted embraces. Touches, yes, but no hugs, not during the telling. Aragorn detested the rule but he abided by it. Orlando claimed that if Aragorn held him close he merely escaped into passion, not healing.
Aragorn understood that his precious lover was... unusual, perhaps even a touch mad. But never dangerous, no, except to himself. If Orlando had been dangerous Legolas would have warned Aragorn. The King knew this as truth. Legolas felt emotions like ripples wafting across a pond. He knew.
A light breeze, hinting of fall, ghosted in and stirred the still vibrant blooms and forced a few finished flowers to the balcony grate. Their delicacy fluttered down to the city below. The fresh breeze wafted Orlando’s earthy aroma to Aragorn’s nostrils.
When Orlando spoke Aragorn almost twitched in surprise. “I remember my mother as sweet soft hands, a mass of thick black hair and the clean scent of rare white lilacs. She was my F-F-Fa...” Orlando’s lips twisted. Never again would Orlando use that word to describe that thing. “...his third wife, so young, so innocent, barely more than a child when she carried me. He was much older. Of course by classic bad luck my birth injured my dainty Mother. I know she miscarried at least three times after my arrival.
“Aside from my Grandfather Mother was the only human who cared about me. She barely knew her letters but she taught me as best as she could. She’d free me from that... chest and endure a beating for her daring actions.”
A hard wintry tone crafted from suffering and hatred fell upon Aragorn’s ears. Ahh, he hoped someday that Orlando’s voice could banish that bitter tone. It was a vocal tone more suited to a world-weary man who had seen many winters, not a beautiful youth with his entire life ahead of him.
“The Haradrim embrace harsh rules for their women. Wicked, unjust rules. A male noble could enjoy a harem of lovers but if his wife looked at another man with a hint of desire then the husband had the right to kill her.
“Obviously he became bored with Mother. One morning, late summer like this, I waited in my mother’s small sitting room. We were to have a reading lesson. I was eight. Instead of my mother one of his guards fetched me. The second I viewed the guard’s distraught face I knew something was wrong but he remained silent against my pleas. The guard took me into the grand hall and I was surprised to see everyone, except my Grandfather, gathered there. That thing sat in his grand chair. My poor mother stood before him. Coarse rope cruelly bound her wrists. Her pretty face was wet with tears but she remained oddly silent.
“I broke free from the guard, ran to Mother and tried undoing the rope biting into her delicate wrists. I didn’t understand! She whispered she loved me above all and smiled at me. Her warm tears fell on my face. He rose from his seat and slapped me across the face. A retainer saved me from falling and held me secure.
“That lying monster told us Mother was a w-w-whore who had dallied with half of the guards there. Of course I didn’t fully understand his words but I knew he lied. I tried crying out in protest but the retainer kept his hand across my mouth. Mother stood there silently trembling. She made no attempt to beg or plea. She knew her words would do no good.” Orlando halted and allowed a shiver to sweep through his own body.
Oh by the Valar no. No more. Aragorn shook his head in disgust. “Orlando, please, I... you need not tell me more.”
Orlando offered Aragorn a hollow stare. His words rasped from his tense throat. “Do you know how that monster killed Mother? He drug her down into his dungeon, stripped her naked and hung her by her wrists. He heated his sword over a brazier and... and...he... thrust it up into h-h-her... ahhh....” A gagging choke halted Orlando’s words. His entire body began trembling in anguish. “He made me watch! I watched that monster kill my Mother! Then he beat me, broke my nose and called me nothing. He told me I meant nothing to him. He left me there with her dead body. My Grandfather, who had been out hunting that day, rescued me and arranged for my Mother’s burial.”
After moaning in pain Aragorn gathered Orlando close and held him. Gods, Orlando’s slender body shook so hard that Aragorn feared if he released his lover Orlando might vibrate into sorrowful pieces. “No more, my lover, tell me no more. Wait, tell me that this demon no longer walks the earth.”
As he buried his face in Aragorn’s neck a mad laugh escaped Orlando’s lips. “Worry not; he’s banished from Middle Earth. Aye, that demon now holds court with Sauron himself.”
Coldness passed through Aragorn’s heart. Had Orlando killed that monster? The King’s strong intuition told him yes. He could feel it in Orlando’s tension. So yes, the boy could kill demons. Appropriate. But why did he make that Sauron reference? Dear Elbereth, had Orlando’s Father been Sauron’s pawn? Ahh, that detail made sense. But he would not ask. No matter who his lover’s Father had been Aragorn would not hold it against him. Never.
Once Orlando ceased shaking like a lone sapling caught in a blizzard he inhaled a deep breath. He felt exhausted from the telling, exhausted yet calmer. He lay against Aragorn until Aragorn pulled them down to the cushions. Shifting against his lover’s body Orlando cuddled close and rested his head on Aragorn’s firm chest. The comforting living warmth fought the chill invading his heart.
Aragorn ran his fingers through Orlando’s thick hair. He hated to ask this question. “Orlando, what did my son say to prompt this horrific memory?”
“No.”
“Your words go no further than these cushions.”
Silence.
After releasing another deep sigh Orlando leaned up and gazed into Aragorn’s concerned face. The hard wintry look now swirled in his deep brown eyes. Aragorn could hardly accept that those delicious brown eyes, normally so warm and giving, could look so dead. “He claimed I was nothing, that I meant nothing to you.”
Blessed Elbereth! Aragorn gasped in fury then he swallowed his rage. For the first time in his years of happy fatherhood he wanted to slap his own flesh and blood. Useless reaction. Cast it aside. Instead he pressed a long adoring kiss against Orlando’s lips. “My lover, you know the truth.”
“I do, my king. Trust me, I do. Although I have lived without affection or... love for long years I still recognize the gentle grace.” Orlando kissed Aragorn again then he curled back down into his lover’s secure embrace.
After long silent minutes Aragorn realized Orlando had fallen asleep. He continued stroking his hair. As he gazed into the purpling sky the King wondered if evil would ever leave Middle Earth.
He doubted it.
Aragorn stirred and sleepily watched dawn’s glory banish the moody night. For once the coming dawn wasn’t his enemy. No, this morning was a special one.
His beautiful lover still lay curled against him in sleeping abandonment, he pressing his face into Aragorn’s neck. Aragorn swore each time he awoke he found Orlando in this same position, his full lips nuzzled against Aragorn’s pulse. No, this morning instead of the dawn forcing Orlando back to his room Orlando remained in Aragorn’s bed. On this special day the fierce young Haradrim would be made the first ever Harad palace guard. He had passed his four month trainee program with high marks. Even that old war-horse Bruscilous admitted he rarely saw a youth owning such drive and determination.
Aragorn knew Orlando’s compelling drive came from being chased by wicked demons. In the past months Orlando had offered Aragorn even more details about his dismal life. Why this youth wasn’t a raving madman proved beyond Aragorn’s understanding; he had endured enough torment for ten lifetimes. Happily Orlando claimed finally relating his life slowly healed him. Aragorn blessed Legolas for urging the warrior to trust and talk. Such a wise Elf.
Mmm. He loved this peaceful time. A smile curved Aragorn’s lips. Yes, today after Orlando was made palace guard Aragorn had a surprise for his lover. He knew his announcement would shock everyone except Arwen. Out of respect for their deep love he had discussed the matter with her. He knew his wife felt surprised but she agreed not to raise a protest. Aragorn hadn’t told Halbarad or Faramir of his decision. Faramir wouldn’t care; of late dear Éowyn’s failing health consumed his life. Aragorn made sure that Faramir wasn’t involved in anything crucial. He wanted his friend to spend his time with his fading wife.
Halbarad acted decidedly cool toward Aragorn. Sadly their sharp words built a wall between them. Their working relationship remained cordial but gone were nights sitting and drinking together. Gone was the brotherly banter.
The rift saddened Aragorn but he had spoken the truth. Beside, Halbarad had no right to suspect Orlando. None at all.
Aragorn knew the worst of his lover’s life. He knew what Orlando had done to his foul demon father. He heard about Umbar’s shame and sexual torment. All the unholy details had been offered to him willingly.
He had heard the worst and he still loved this frail youth. Yes, he loved Orlando. That was something he could tell no one. Arwen could turn a blind eye on Aragorn finding physical solace with the beautiful youth but loving him? It might destroy her. Yes, Aragorn still loved his precious Evenstar on many different levels but his physical love had mellowed into affection. She had forced him to take such a path.
Beside, Orlando needed Aragorn. Before now Aragorn had never healed a truly damaged soul. His love for this lad recreated them both. Aragorn had become Orlando’s mentor, lover, family, guidance and savior.
He hadn’t seen that wintry cold stare in weeks. That gladdened his own soul.
As his thoughts wandered Aragorn didn’t realize that he had been fondling Orlando’s muscular arms. The lean warm body stirred against him then he felt a wet tongue swirl against his flesh. “Who’s waking me on the one day I can sleep in?”
Aragorn chuckled. “Forgive me, my love. I was thinking and began stroking your smooth skin.”
“Thinking about me?”
“Of course.”
A sleepy little sigh drifted up. “As I fell asleep last night I thought the first thing I want to do is walk up the main marble staircase and feel like I truly belong.”
“You already truly belong.”
“Only to you.”
“And I to you.”
A flash of Legolas’ warning words tripped into Orlando’s mind. Sweet of his Aragorn to say so but Orlando knew it wasn’t true. “Mind, body and soul.”
Aragorn grasped Orlando’s right wrist and pressed those graceful fingers against his own chest. “And heart.”
“Yes, and heart.” After stroking Aragorn’s chest Orlando leaned up and began nibbling at Aragorn’s lips. Yes, and heart. He knew that to be the utter truth. Aragorn loved him. This mighty King loved him in an open, nurturing way.
Their kissing intensified. Soon their bodies urged into sweaty passion. Mmm, when Orlando’s cock entered Aragorn’s accepting body the lusting Haradrim decided sleeping in wasn’t so important.
A few hours later pride soared through Orlando’s soul. As General Bruscilous formally admitted the five trainees into the palace guard ranks he bowed to them and presented them with their official uniform.
He had done it. Lieutenant Orlando of the palace guards. His beloved Grandfather would feel so proud of him. His Mother... a sorrowful spasm gripped his mind. Sweet gentle Mother would be far more pleased about her son’s devoted love.
The royal family and high-ranking nobles politely clapped during each new guard’s introduction into the ranks. As he sat behind the royal family Halbarad applauded but Orlando noted he never smiled. He still mistrusted that powerful man. The advisor looked too much like... him, tall, graying and stern. No, Orlando would never feel comfortable around Halbarad.
To Orlando’s relief Prince Eldarion did not attend the ceremony. He had seen the Prince a few times since their horrible encounter and each time Orlando bowed with as much mockery as he could summon into his body. The Haradrim knew he played a dangerous game but he couldn’t control his petty act. In return the Prince glared at him with all the coldness of a killing winter frost but he remained silent.
Orlando had encountered Queen Arwen walking in the main garden with her daughters. After their three brief meetings Orlando realized Eldarion only took after her in appearance. The glorious Elven Queen proved quiet, sweet and she even greeted Orlando by name! Her graciousness surprised and delighted him. Instead of loathing Orlando the Queen accepted him. Why couldn’t her son?
Legolas’ non attendance saddened Orlando. The Elf had sent word that he would try and attend but he was pregnant again. Number eight! When Aragorn shared Legolas’ witty letter with Orlando they both laughed; this pregnancy made Legolas oddly clumsy and utterly forgetful. He claimed Gimli followed him around ready to catch him if he fell. Orlando simply couldn’t imagine the fair Elf tripping over his own feet!
Applause shook Orlando out of his thoughts. Time to bow to General Bruscilous. Time to bow to the royal family. Time to bow to the assigned guard companion. Although now officially guards each new guard had an older mentor to work with them. Orlando had been paired with Tosca, which pleased him. He would never forget how Tosca had tried saving Orlando from the Prince’s wrath.
After the many bows and salutations Aragorn rose and applauded everyone again. He couldn’t wait to see the fuss his next words would create. “Friends, I have another special announcement. Although I hate to admit it I am growing older and slower. Hence I feel the need for a strong young man to guard me.” Laughter rippled from the nobles. “As an open gesture of friendship and trust I have decided to extend this further honor to Orlando, our first Haradrim guard.”
A brief silence fell until Arwen merrily began applauding. Aragorn smiled at her in sincere appreciation. The other nobles instantly joined in the applause.
All except Halbarad. The shocked advisor almost lodged a protest. Fine, yes, so he had been the one to urge Aragorn to find someone to have a true relationship with but this...obvious bestowing of an unearned honor on his lover smacked of royal decadence.
Orlando blinked then he desperately controlled his grin. Aragorn! What a tremendous surprise. What an astonishing act. His fellow guards patted his back in congratulations. At least his new comrades did not resent him. They knew how rigorously he had worked to prove himself, yes, he had worked far harder than any other.
Aragorn maintained a formal face. “Orlando of Harad, do you accept the position?”
As he bowed low Orlando managed to sound awed and respectful instead of giddy and excited. “You honor me, Sire.” Oh thank you, lover.
“You honor us by trusting us. Come, let’s discuss your duties. General, may I?” A pleased Aragorn was having a difficult time controlling his own grin. He felt like a wicked child who could have his way because he owned all the toys.
“Of course, Sire. Congratulations, Orlando. This is truly an unexpected honor.” The unspoken words “and one you do not deserve” clearly telegraphed from the General’s stiff posture.
Another enemy. Orlando did not care. He was the beloved of the King. He was finally blessed.
Before they could leave the small ceremonial council chamber Halbarad stood before the doorway. The Dúnedian’s low caustic voice reached only their ears. “How many more rules will you break, Aragorn? Perhaps you can create a new Lordship and bestow it on this boy. What’s stopping you? Oh, why that’s right, Haradrims usually don’t become Gondorian nobles. Silly of me.”
That speech almost defined going too far. In response Aragorn’s voice sounded equally unpleasant. “Yet if I wish to begin a new era in granting Lordships to our now loyal neighbors you’re right, nothing will stop me. Now if you aren’t offering congratulations to Orlando then please step aside, my old friend. I’d like to introduce my guard to his new duties.”
“Is that what you call it now? Fine.” Halbarad speared Orlando with one last fierce glare before he brushed past Aragorn.
Aragorn whirled and gripped Halbarad’s arm. “Look, you, if Arwen accepts my actions why don’t you?”
“Because I don’t have to, you happy despot.” The old Dúnedian yanked free then he stepped away to congratulate the other new guards.
Damn! Trust cranky Halbarad to sour a happy occasion. Aragorn almost pursued the conversation then he shook his head. Ignore him. But being called a despot stung.
Orlando watched the annoyance play across Aragorn’s handsome face. Ahh, he wished he could stalk back and tell Halbarad exactly what he thought of him. Perhaps someday Orlando would find the nerve. “Sire?”
Aragorn smashed down his anger and smiled at Orlando’s uncertain face. “Come. I’ll show you where you can place your belongings. Since you are my personal guard you shall remain close to me.” A swift wink followed.
Despite the tension Orlando almost laughed. Once they entered the royal corridor Aragorn hugged Orlando’s slim body close and breathed in his ear. “Now, dear one, you never have to slip from my bed with the dawn. You’ll be too busy guarding my body.”
“I can think of nothing more wonderful, Sire. You truly possess a body worth guarding. I will make sure nothing becomes between my body and yours, especially in bed.” Orlando fiercely kissed Aragorn’s lips until they staggered into the suite.
A trail of clothing soon sprawled from the royal suite’s door into the bedroom and up to the bed. Only the unworn official palace guard uniform held a safe spot of honor atop a carved chair.
Halbarad entered his office and frowned in confusion. Now he hadn’t placed that large folder filled with documents on his desk. Who had entered his office without permission? His assistant had taken the afternoon off so...
After lighting a few oil lamps to dispel the day’s gloom the annoyed advisor settled into his chair and glanced at the note resting on top of the brown folder. “I want this disgusting matter taken care of immediately. Discretion is paramount.”
The signature made him swallow. So he wanted Halbarad to do his dirty work, eh? Bah, that brat needed a talking to but Halbarad wasn’t the one to take care of the matter. He slowly opened the folder and stared in dismay at the accurate sketch. Ahh no. No.
After an hour spent scanning documents a despairing Halbarad wanted to fetch a few bottles of wine and become desperately drunk. His badly healed broken right arm, a gift from a brutal encounter with Orcs, suddenly throbbed in agony.
No.
Rising from his chair the tall advisor grimly stared out at the rainy day. How fitting. How very fitting. He watched the rain form dripping patterns against the glass panes. Beyond the glass the colorful vines released their last cheerful blooms to this cool fall rain.
Dead blooms. Also fitting.
Time to ask questions. Halbarad exited his office and spoke to the guard on duty. After a salute and bow the guard disappeared down the stairs.
Gods. Halbarad felt like he had just ruined two lives.
And possibly destroyed a friendship beyond repair.