Lord Of The Rings Fan Fiction ❯ Taming Legolas ❯ To Catch a Wild Bird ( Chapter 1 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

Taming Legolas

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This is a sequel to Penance.

Slash/yaoi with strong Het Content.

Glossary will be provided at the end of each chapter.

The title of this chapter is dedicated to Irena, whose anecdote and imagery moved me to struggle on. The anecdote, which inspired the chapter titles, will be posted at the end of the story.
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Chapter 1: To Catch a Wild Bird

by Cheyenne Dancer aka Wolfraven at Mediaminer.org

Birdsong drifted upon a cool morning breeze. Sweet scents of flowering bushes and spring grasses wafted in through gently weaving curtains of cream and bronze silks. The rattlings and soft murmurings of a slowly awakening household floated down long hallways echoing gently.

Awareness flooded Legolas' eyes and he stiffened slightly. If elves had the dreaming of mortals, Legolas would have sworn that last night had been so. Yet, this morning's light gave lie to that wish.

Silk covers tangled about his bare body and Aragorn was wrapped around him, making movement without disturbing the Dunédan nigh impossible. Sometime in the night, Aragorn had thrown one of his arms about Legolas' waist, holding the Prince close, as if fearing the Elf's escape whilst the Man was bound by slumber. One of Aragorn's legs inserted itself between Legolas' thighs. The wiry fur of the Man's leg tickled Legolas' soft sacs as Aragorn shifted subtly in slumber.

Legolas could feel the hair upon Aragorn's chest soft against his back, the very touch of which sent thrills chasing rapidly through his body. An unmistakable hardness brushed against his buttocks and pushed at his sore opening.

Aragorn murmured sleepily, small puffs of moist air tickling the nape of Legolas' neck causing the tiny hairs there to mimic the erection thrusting lazily against the Elf's buttocks. The Man briefly tightened his hold upon Legolas before sending one hand to brush in dream-filled tenderness across the pale expanse of chest. Dark fingers lay curled laxly about the darker bit of flesh, tormenting Legolas' nipple to tightness even in the Man's repose.

To Legolas' mortification, the Elf felt his body immediately respond to Aragorn's sleep-filled caresses, his sex thickening and filling with eagerness.

Memories danced in Legolas' mind, causing both shame and arousal to ebb and flow through him like the siren call of the sea. The Elf made to slide from the bed, his face burning as visions of last e'en taunted him. In his waking dreams, he had heard the voice of Arwen discussing him with this Man as if he had no voice in his future.

That this had all been planned by the Elven princess and his long-time friend twisted within him and lit a fury like that of a storm that had leveled full-grown trees within Greenwood the Great not overlong ago. It were better to feel outrage than question his own confused feelings in this matter.

For did he not wish that Aragorn would gainsay him? That the Dunédan would listen to what lay hidden in Legolas' heart rather than what his lips denied? Best not to think on the meaning of that, for he was a Prince and certain things were expected of him. And, he was sure, that bedwarmer was not among them!

Aragorn's arms tightened reflexively, and his voice caressed him with amused timbres. "Where do you seek to flee, Legolas?"

"Enough!" Legolas struggled to free himself from the entanglement of Aragorn's limbs; his voice stretched thin, "Whatever jest you and the Lady Arwen have conceived is well over, and I will have none of it!" With a well placed elbow that left Aragorn gasping for breath and loosening his hold, Legolas made to scramble from the sumptuous bed, scattering silks to the floor as he sought his escape.

Aragorn grabbed him about the waist, rolling them back to the center of the bed. The Man ended above him staring down into the outraged face of the Prince of Mirkwood. Aragorn sat upon Legolas' thighs, pinning the Elf's hands above his head as he arched beneath him.

A flash of memory shook them as their bodies tightened in remembrance of last night's activities. For moments, they were still, both locked in silent battle and enthralled by the heat they beheld in the other. "I cannot let you go like this, pen-rhovan. You would take flight and pretend that this had never happened. I fear that but for the quest, I would not see you again."

"Would that be so terrible a thing? I will *not* be a bauble in some human court! An object of scorn and pity to behold--Lo! The son of Thranduil made catamite and subject of gossip for vacuous courtiers and sycophants. Do you seek yet another Elven trinket with which to impress your subjects?"

Aragorn raised his hand, anger making his eyes flash dark. Quicker than the human eye, Legolas' slender fingers had circled the Man's upraised wrist, preventing it from falling. "You shall not strike me, again, Aragorn. I have paid this debt to you in full."

"Truly?" Aragorn's brows winged their way towards the sweep of dark hair that fell across his brow. With slow deliberation, he rolled his hips, his eyes fastened on the angry Elf as he aligned their erections and slid the sleek velvet hardnesses one against the other.

Legolas' firmness sang at the slick heated touch of Aragorn's arousal. The Elf caught a gasp desperately behind his bared teeth, as against his volition, his hips rose to meet Aragorn's. Aragorn pulled his hand from Legolas' grasp; fingers lightly combing through the tangled locks of gold that spilled across the bed. Tenderness lit his eyes and he spoke softly, "Last night, I was Estel. Last night you wanted my touch, whether it be harsh or soft with seduction. I think you still do, and this is what shames you most."

Legolas decided there was something to be said for hate. He hated Aragorn this moment almost as much as he loved him. "Aragorn, if you have ever had some small affection for me, I ask you to release me now. I do not want this."

Frustrated, Aragorn rolled from Legolas. "I have never known you to lie, before, mellon-nin."

Scrambling from the bed, Legolas winced, his body making known to him that all of last night's firsts had not yet been forgotten, nor fully healed. Even the padded swell of his buttocks tingled faintly from Aragorn's diligent application of chastisement.

Under other circumstances, he would have held the pleasant ache between his thighs in fond remembrance--a reminder of this closeness that he and Aragorn had shared. Yet now, he wished fervently that the fabled healing prowess of the elves would quicken that he might forget the shameful legacy of last night in dogged pursuit of duty.

Long hair obscured his vision and Legolas turned his back upon Aragorn as he impatiently brushed the hair out of his face with shaking fingers. He glanced about for his clothing, willfully ignoring the dark, lustful look that Aragorn cast upon his body.

Keeping his eyes firmly affixed to the floor; he finally espied his leggings. With an economy of motion and grace that was oft the envy of Men, Legolas slid the soft fabric over his legs and sore backside, carefully smoothing at the wrinkles and adjusting the fit accommodating the obvious swell at his groin.

"I wish you would not look upon me thusly." He hated the plaintive sound of his voice and thinned his lips to keep from speaking again. It would, perhaps, have been better to never have acceded to Aragorn's summons, yet the taste of bitter regret was not free of yearning. He could not face Estel right now. He was too confused. He truly did not understand why he had reacted so to Aragorn's firm unwavering command.

Even thinking of it now, his sex leapt, as if of a will of its own, and his heart thrummed and his spirit longed to taste the strength of the Dunédan again. Wayward thoughts of displeasing the Man strayed through the tumult casting about in his mind with images of the resultant punishments and pleasures teasing behind quickly closed eyes as he fought to control his breathing. This would never do.

It would be best if he left quickly, before he shamed himself further with this new knowledge of himself and heretofore hidden desires. As well, he needed to consider whether or no he could keep company with the Fellowship. He was uncertain, at best, of how to judge himself in such close confines with the Dunédan.

Naked, Aragorn slid from the bed with feline grace. He stalked the Elf across the room, his eyes glittering dangerously, his voice a low deep purr. "How do you wish I would look upon you, lirimaer?"

Aragorn reached out and tenderly fingered one of the mussed braids that lay like a gold brush against the blade of a shoulder, an unseen smile softened his countenance. With a gentleness that betrayed what truly lay within the Man's heart, Aragorn brushed the sweep of Legolas' long blonde mane back across one of the Elf's pale shoulders. The Man felt, more than heard, Legolas' sudden in drawn breath as Aragorn kissed the now exposed nape.

With a light touch, Aragorn lightly ran his fingers down Legolas' bared neck and further along his spine, sketching slow lazy circles between the Elf's rigid shoulders.

When Legolas did not step away, Aragorn drew closer, close enough that the heat between their bodies flared and grew. "Do you need the violence, then to accept my touches? To accept what you feel?" Like warm honey, Aragorn's voice skimmed passed a pointed ear. "Oh yes, I heard all that you said whilst lost in passion's throes. Though I knew even before you did speak it."

Legolas whirled upon the Man, anger his shield against Aragorn's proximity. "You learned only through trickery!"

"That is not true, a'maelamin. Why do you refuse to hear what I have said? I knew this before you spoke. Your eyes speak the truth, and your actions louder still--even when your lovely lips would shape false words to deceive and confuse."

"I would never have spoken."

Looking down into the angry face, Aragorn's gaze softened, he lifted a hand to brush gently against Legolas' temple. "Why is that, meleth-nin?"

"Do not speak such sweet words to me! They are not mine to hear!" Legolas knocked Aragorn's hand away from his face. With a shove, the Elf sought to dart past him.

Aragorn grabbed the half-naked Elf about the waist and flung him against one of the columns that stood scattered about the room, carved in the likeness of trailing vines. Using his body as leverage, the Man pressed tightly against Legolas, holding the Elf captive. Aragorn's fingers circled the pale flesh of the Elf's arms, holding him still beneath his heated gaze.

Legolas shuddered beneath the sudden onslaught; waves of desire pulsing through him with the rapid beat of his elven heart. A small moan gave lie to his words and stood between them exposing his need as surely as the swell of his organ pressing tightly against the soft elven cloth of his leggings.

Legolas' pale chest heaved and his tongue flickered wetly along full lips drawing Aragorn's gaze. Watching the Man's eyes devour him was enough to pebble his nipples almost to the point of pain.

Speaking tenderly, Aragorn nuzzled against his neck, words warm and sweet pouring from his lips to accost the wild creature he hoped to tame to his touch. "I would do the things lovers do with you, a'maelamin, would you but give me leave. I would walk with you among the starlit gardens of Rivendell to watch the wildflowers bloom beneath Ithil's bright touch. If you would allow, I would take the time to woo you with soft words and moon-washed swims. I long to take you to my bed, not only in anger and fury, but with the gentle touches that lovers share. I desire to gaze upon your face as passion's flame leaps ever higher within you and colors your pale flesh rose."

"Stop this now!" Legolas bucked against Aragorn. Aragorn was forced back a pace, loosing Legolas' arms. The Elf immediately lashed out with his fists, only to have Aragorn snatch first one and then the other from the air.

"Or is this that which you need, before you can accept my caresses?" Aragorn slammed the Elf back against the pillar roughly, eyes ablaze with thwarted passion and angry desire. With a short, sharp thrust of his hips, Aragorn brought their erections into scintillating contact. "Do you need the violence, little Elf? Do you crave it? Do you need to be controlled to relieve you of the guilt you feel?" Aragorn bit the point of one sensitive ear.

Legolas yelped and writhed, which did nothing to further his cause, but merely to underscore Aragorn's nakedness, the Man's arousal compelling the Elf's further submission. To struggle was folly. It merely served to excite them both. Legolas fell back against the column, feeling the cool scrape of the marble hewn leaves against his back slowly warming. He shook his tangled hair from his eyes glaring uselessly at the smug Man.

With unusual strength for a mortal, Aragorn pinned Legolas' hands above the Elf. Wrapping both thin wrists in the powerful grip of one of his larger hands, the Man forced the slender body of the Elf to arch forward. Aragorn nibbled at the furious Elf's neck, carefully hiding an enigmatic smile behind the fall of his dark hair.

Legolas leaned his head back against the column; eyes closed tightly against the mesmeric effects that Aragorn sought to weave about him.

"Ai... no..." he softly whimpered. Legolas could not keep from trembling like a windblown leaf as Aragorn bit and nibbled his way down his neck. Pain and pleasure twined in seductive combination whispering promises of delight beyond his desire of submission. Barely able to gasp breath for the denials he wished to proclaim, Legolas spoke shakily, "I know not of what you speak... "

"Twice now you have spoken falsely to me. I would think you desire all ready a repetition of last e'en's punishments." Dark promise filled the Dunédan's voice as he held Legolas captive. "I can play these games you demand. I receive great joy from commanding you." He punctuated each word in his sentence with a small push of his hips, forcing Legolas up on his toes. "I take pleasure in your submission." Aragorn's voice dropped to a growl, "As do you."

Legolas hissed at the feel of the rough stubble against his sensitive neck, twisting in Aragorn's grasp, his breath coming in frantic pants. "Why do you say these things to me?"

Drawing back, Aragorn skewered him with the heat of his gaze. Legolas felt as if he were burning alive in the flames that leapt and danced in the darkened gaze. "Are you truly so innocent? I think you lie to yourself as much as you do me." He touched Legolas fleetingly, a mere brush of fingers across one high-boned cheek. "You are all things--beautiful, strong, brave and loyal--how could I not desire you? How could I not love you?"

Legolas jerked as if struck, his struggle renewed. "Why do you torment me thus? Your heart is no longer yours to give, Dunédan! You break troth with the nís to whom you are pledged! I will have no part in this! Neither in these fantasies you seek to weave between us nor in the Doom to which you have chosen to condemn the Evenstar of her people!"

Flinching, Aragorn replied, his voice laced with anger and pain, "She accepts this. Why can you not? She would not have my heart sundered between you! Is it so much easier and nobler for you to dwell in sorrow and fade than to yield to my caress?"

The Man paused, pulling back but slightly lest Legolas should flee, his grip yet firm upon the slender wrists. "Or is it that you doubt my words? Shall I have her show you that I do not speak falsely?" Aragorn studied him thoroughly, as if seeking the answer to a hidden puzzle. "Or is it you wish to be claimed by us both already? Is that what you wish, little Elf? To be mastered well and truly?" Aragorn's voice deepened, touched with the fire of his desire. The Man's eyes were so dark that they were eclipsed with the color of a moonless sky.

Color washed across Legolas' face as Aragorn looked beyond the column against which he was pressed. In the heat of the moment, the Elf had failed to note the small telltale noises that would have announced the arrival of an audience to their uneven struggle. There was only one who came to mind that might breach Aragorn's privacy without fear of angered retribution. He lay his head back against the column with a solid thud, his eyes squeezed closed, his humiliation complete.

He was only too aware of his half-clothed state and the way Aragorn's aroused body pressed against his, the way his own body responded regardless if he will or no. Though in waking dream he had known that Arwen had borne witness to his earlier disgrace, he had sought to leave quickly before such scene could be renewed.

Now that he was attuned to her, he could perceive the Evenstar's presence. The sweep of her robes brushed the hardwood flooring with a gentle whisper. He could feel her nearness; her perfume delicately tinted the air. "You must allow me to leave."

He felt Arwen approach. Soft fingers trailed lightly along Legolas' face. Startled Legolas' eyes flashed open and were immediately caught by her gaze, feeling more like a doe caught by the hunter's scent than a warrior at this moment. If Arda would open her dark womb and receive him now, he would happily go into shadow.

Her eyes dark veiled her thoughts, a small smile curled her full lips. Even in his anger and shame, Legolas could not help but acknowledge that she was beautiful.

"You do not truly wish to leave. We all know that you must resolve this before you set out upon the quest. To travel, heart-torn and in such confusion endangers not only you, but your companions as well. You cannot deny the Quest. For you have given your word, and in the end, there will be no escape for you, my Prince. You must needs travel with the Fellowship to see this deed done. It is a matter of honor and, of that, you have a plentitude."

Glancing first towards Aragorn and then back to Legolas she continued, allowing her fingers to comb through his hair and tease the pointed ear visible among the snarled strands. "Who do you seek to punish by your denial? Yourself or Estel?"

He flinched from her touch, the delicate administrations of her fingers sending teasing shivers dancing along his spine in his painfully aroused state, even as the feel of Aragorn's naked flesh through his leggings created a conflagration of heat and desire pounding through his veins.

"I do not seek to hurt anyone."

"Yet, this you do. For in denying Estel, you condemn yourself to grief's mercy and hurt him who you love--though you will not speak it. And in his pain, do I know torment. So you would condemn our union to bittersweet regret?"

Leaning in close, she kissed his cheek, her eyes sympathetic yet unbending. "This I cannot--will not--allow you to do. He has asked if you would join us in love, rather than leave us in bitterness and sorrow. You know, as well as I, that a three-ing is not unknown among our peoples, nor do the Noldor hold such a joining in contempt. In all of our long histories, it has been held a satisfactory resolution to such turmoil as ours."

"I cannot do this thing that you wish. I cannot be a part of this. You have Aragorn and he, you. There is no place for me here. I *want* no place here!"

"Do not be so sure of yourself, pen-rhovan. I have some small part of my Grandmother's gift and I have seen within you. Your heart has been given, whither you will or no. What harm is there in following where it would lead? What shame is there in taking what small happiness one may from the darkness that threatens to overwhelm us?"

"I do not love you."

"No. You do not. Nor I you. But I have a certain fondness for you. And where there is fondness, love may grow. You are very beautiful, and it would be no hardship for me to have you with us." She continued to finger the point of his ear as if in all casual curiosity, her smile both beautiful and terrible as the morning and the night.

Legolas convulsed, tingles of energy twining their way through his flesh, a small whimper caught in his throat as he tested Aragorn's hold. "Saes--do not..."

Ignoring the broken plea, Arwen whispered sweetly against the point of the ear she toyed with, "I find myself grown wet at the thought of watching you and Aragorn. Light and Dark, passion sweet and hungry for each other."

"My lady!" Legolas gasped, he knew not what to think with Aragorn pressing against him so demandingly and the Lady Arwen making such claims. His heart hammered rapidly, like a bird seeking freedom from a trap.

She leant closer, brushing her soft full lips against Legolas' parted mouth speaking softly, "I dream of touching you. Of watching you touch yourself. Of watching Aragorn command you. I saw you last night. It made my heart race. I would have joined you then, if I had thought you ready."

As she moved away from them, her skirts swaying softly about her slender form, the fabled night dark tresses loose about her shoulders, Legolas followed her with his eyes, mouth slightly agape.

With a faultless grace, Arwen settled upon the edge of the love tossed bed, still that mysterious smile playing about her visage. Her voice was low and throaty as she spoke.

"How should I prove to you your welcome in our bed? Within our hearts? What deeds would urge you to accept that which your body already acknowledges?"

Her knowing glance all but undid him and Legolas could feel color tinge his entire body. He was most grateful; now, that Aragorn stood pressed so close, for at least his shameful arousal was not upon display.

He sought to look away from her, yet it did little good, for he found himself swallowed by the dark, hungry gaze of the Man who held him yet. The very ardor of which stole his breath away and caused yet more turmoil to swirl unbidden and determinedly unacknowledged through him.

Aragorn had remained silent all this while, yet his grip had not loosened, nor had he pulled away when Arwen approached.

With a nod of her head, her sultry voice caressed both Man and Elf, "I think our prince does desire to be convinced, a'maelamin." With a gesture every bit as regal as Elrond's dignified demeanor, she continued, "Do not pin him so, bring him away from there, but carefully, we do not wish him to flee, as yet."

It seemed that Aragorn needed little urging. With a strength and suddenness surprising to Legolas, he found himself wrenched from the support of the column and enfolded in Aragorn's arms. "This is madness!"

Yet, Legolas found his voice trembling as much as his limbs. He had no understanding of why he wanted, nay, needed Aragorn's mastery, and that Lady Arwen would engage in such behavior shot through him with the accuracy of a well-aimed arrow. He knew if he did not leave, and leave quickly he would be no longer the Prince of Mirkwood, but some new thing broken and remade and the fear excited him as surely as having Arwen sit watching his brief struggles with Aragorn.

Aragorn knew him too well. It was astonishing to the Elf how easily the Man countered his every bid for freedom. Panting, Legolas shook damp hair out of his eyes. At every point where his body touched Aragorn he was engulfed, enflamed, his struggles only brought him closer to a dangerous edge. With a quiet sob of defeat, he relaxed into the Man's unyielding grip.

Whispering softly, his breath a soft promise against Legolas' ear, Aragorn sought to assure, "All will be made well, lirimaer. Do not fret so. If this is what you demand, then this is what you shall have, until you need it no longer."

Speaking huskily, her voice weaving a bespelled web of seduction around them, Arwen asked, "Will you let us prove your welcome, young Prince? Shall we prove to you our love and desire? Will you not accept Estel's sovereignty in this, as your heart most earnestly urges? Give us this gift, Legolas, give to us your submission."

Burying his fact against Aragorn's neck, Legolas sent a quick prayer to the Valar. May his choice be true and not tear apart what little friendship there remained, may he not be swallowed whole and emerge unrecognizable to all who knew him. Yet, he could not deny to himself that he wanted this. He desired Aragorn as no other. The Man's very touch set him ablaze and there was an agony of confusion and illicit thrill at being so commandingly used.

"I cannot hear your voice, pen-rhovan."

Wishing desperately that he could bury himself further from view, for never had he known such a confusing welter of emotion and dread as these two wrought within him, Legolas spoke softly. "Yes."

To be continued

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GLOSSARY

A'maelamin - beloved
Aule - The Ainur whose gift was in making (The Silmarillion)
Ithil - the moon of Middle Earth, Anor - the sun of Middle Earth
Lirimaer - lovely one
Melethron-ne - my love
Melethron-nin - loved one
Mellon-nin - my friend
Melme - love
Nissi - she-elf, female elf (Morgoth's Ring)
Pen-rhovan - wild one

Silvan/Sylvan - those tribes of Elves who were not of the Eldar, though less noble and wise in spirit than the Eldar, they were still good. The Silvan Elves dwelt in forests and mountain reaches, and in the Third Age most of them lived in various kingdoms such as Lorien and the Woodland Realm which was ruled by the Eldar, although some wandered in the wilderness of Middle Earth. (Abbreviated notes taken directly from "The Complete Guide to Middle-Earth by Robert Foster)

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