Author: Lostiawen

E-mail: changeling@planetx.org

Rated: NC-17

Pairing: Legolas/Eomer

Summary: Aragorn´s arrival in the Mark triggers some unpleasant memories for Eomer. 

Warnings: Some angst.

Archive: CIB, Of Elves and Men.  All others please ask.

Feedback: Yes, please.

Disclaimer: The characters are the property of J. R.R. Tolkien´s estate. The author does not own them. 

Author´s Notes: Written for CIB's "The Undershagged" challenge, but this fic unfortunately never got judged due to an e-mail glitch.  :(

I had actually written an Eomer/Aragorn fic a long time ago and never finished it, but the events that happened there are relayed in this fic. 

If there´s enough interest, I will probably finish the prequel. 

Posted Oct.  16, 2003

Eomer Eadig looked out warily across the Riddermark. He and his men had slain a band of Uruk-Hai the night before, and the incursions were rising with alarming frequency. He bit his lip; silently hoping that Eowyn would be able to reach through to their uncle and end his exile before Rohan paid the price. 

As he thundered down a hillside with the rest of the Rohirrim, a familiar voice called out, "Riders of Rohan! What news from the Mark?" 

He almost fell out of his saddle. Strider. He could not fail to recognize that voice. 

His heart ached. Had he changed his mind after all these years? As he pulled his men around, he spotted Strider´s companions. 

Eomer swallowed, his throat going dry as he spotted his first lover. He had not changed much in 10 years. As Eomer examined the intense, piercing blue eyes, the well-muscled body, and the chiseled, rugged features, a familiar pain bloomed inside of him. Strider met his eyes, with not a hint of recognition. 

Anger grew within him. Was he that insignificant? 

His gaze flicked over to the rest of the party. The elf was fair beyond words, and Eomer felt a flash of jealousy. Then he noticed how protectively Strider stood in front of him, and his temper flared even more. 

"What business do a dwarf, an elf, and a ranger have in the Mark? Speak quickly!"  he demanded coldly. 

"Give me your name, horsemaster, and I will give you mine," the dwarf insolently replied. 

Eomer grew angrier. He did not need more insults to add to his foul mood. "I would cut your head off, dwarf," he spat as he dismounted, "if it stood but a little higher off the ground." 

The elf swiftly drew his arrow and nocked it, "You would die before your stroke fell." 

Cool blue eyes gazed at him, almost taunting him. He returned the elf´s glare, silently challenging his claim to his former lover. 

Eomer felt an uncontrollable rage welling within him. It was insulting enough that he had been replaced, but to be threatened by the elf...His fingers moved towards his sword. 

A soft voice jolted him back, "I am Aragorn, son of Arathorn..."

Eomer kept his gaze neutral, but he felt shocked inside. Aragorn? Strider was the lost Dunedain King of Gondor? 

The anger suddenly drained away quickly, leaving him feeling foolish and petty. The King of Gondor was destined for a bride as tradition dictated, and his eyes finally caught sight of the jewel at his throat. As Eomer gazed at it, he realized what had driven them apart. 

He cursed himself inwardly. Between Theodred´s death, his banishment, and his heartsickness, he was not acting clearly. 

Aragorn concluded his speech with, "We are friends of Theoden, your king." 

Heartsore, Eomer wearily told them of the sorry state of affairs in Rohan, and he was much alarmed when he heard of the missing hobbits. When he sadly told them of the battle last night, he would have given anything to remove the look of hopelessness from Aragorn´s eyes. 

He made a gift to them of Hasufel and Arod, realizing that they were poor substitutes for their fallen comrades. After he bid them farewell, he hoped that Aragorn would find it in his heart to forgive him for his grave error. 

As he called the Rohirrim to him, he felt the old doubts that had plagued him rising to the surface. He had carefully disguised it over the years, hiding behind a mask of brashness. A mask that now threatened to crumble as Aragorn´s presence forced him to recall his failures, both new and old. 

He cursed himself and steeled his thoughts, locking all emotion out except anger, rage, and determination. He could not be weak again. Not now. 

"My Captain, is everything all right?"  one of his men asked. 

"Aye. Continue on," he said automatically. And although he tried to squelch it, memories of his time with Aragorn resurfaced, tormenting him. 

*** The Battle of Helm´s Deep had been ugly. As Eomer wearily pulled off his armor in the stables, Legolas said, "Forgive me for my earlier aggression." 

Eomer waved him off. "Nay, it is I who should beg your forgiveness. I assumed much." 

Legolas said softly, "Aragorn told me the night before we came to the Mark that you may not be amenable to our presence because the two of you had some history together." 

"Yes, you could say that. We used to be lovers and we did not have the most amiable of partings."  He paused. "May I be bold, Legolas?" 

"Certainly, I owe you much for your help." 

"Are the two of you lovers?" 

"Aye," Legolas said shyly. "Ever since we left Rivendell." 

Eomer was confused. "Is he not destined to marry, then?" 

Legolas replied, "Nay, he has told me that he sent his bride off to the Gray Havens. He has promised me that I am his only love." 

"But the jewel..."

"He is wearing that as a token as respect for the lady Arwen. I doubt he will remove it until the war is over." 

"Then I wish the two of you much happiness, Legolas," Eomer vowed solemnly. "And, if you are ever in need of a friend, I will be there for you." 

"Thank you, Eomer," Legolas said, his eyes dancing. "I am glad that you bear me no ill will." 

"We are in need of your services, Master Elf," Gimli´s voice suddenly bellowed out in the distance. 

Legolas said, "Pardon me, Eomer, but I must go." 

"You may take your leave, Legolas."  After the slender form disappeared outside, Eomer murmured, "And I hope that you fare better with Aragorn than I did." 

***

The Ring had been destroyed and a huge feast was being held to celebrate Sauron´s fall. Eomer quite withdrew from the festivities, his mood heavy. 

Aragorn´s presence had not bothered him while they were caught up in the fog of war. He had pushed his feelings aside, concentrating only on victory. Now that Middle-Earth was freed, he felt a dagger through his heart as he watched people happily toast Aragorn and his future bride. 

He wandered out into the gardens of Minas Tirith, a goblet of wine in his hand. The stars were out, and he bit his lip as he remembered leaning back in the protective cradle of Aragorn´s arms to watch them. It had been mildly chilly that night, and Aragorn had wrapped his cloak around them. Eomer closed his eyes, remembering the deep burr of Aragorn´s voice, the raspy tones tinged with a faint Elvish accent. As he lost himself in his reverie, he could almost smell Aragorn´s comforting scent of pipeweed and woodsmoke. 

A familiar melodic voice interrupted his thoughts. "Should you not be celebrating with your kin?" 

Turning, he saw Legolas´ slim form approaching him. 

Eomer shook his head. "I have little to celebrate. My uncle is dead, and my sister was gravely wounded. We lost many good men at Helm´s Deep, and the final attack on Mordor depleted Edoras of still more. Nay, Legolas, it is a bittersweet victory at best." 

He sipped some of the wine out of his goblet and said, "I might ask the same of you." 

Legolas shook his head. "There is little for me to celebrate as well. My kin are leaving these lands, and my heart is sore." 

Eomer said softly, "Is it Aragorn?" 

Legolas nodded and sighed heavily. "Neither of us expected Arwen to return. He thought himself free, and now he is duty bound to marry her." 

"I am sorry, my friend. You have my sympathies, because his heritage also drove us apart." 

Legolas said, "You have not told me how you came to meet Aragorn." 

Eomer closed his eyes. "When I was a young boy, my father and mother died within a fortnight of each other. Theoden King decided to adopt us, and we were escorted from my father´s castle to Meduseld with an armed guard. 

"The guard was ambushed by a band of orcs. I managed to spirit Eowyn away in the scuffle, and I placed her in a small hollow. I then lead the orcs away from her hiding place, but they caught me before I could successfully flee. They are not kind captors: they forced me to run with them to their destination. I was flogged repeatedly for not being able to keep up with their swift pace, and the open lash wounds became infected during our journey. 

"Strider, as I knew him then, had been traveling through the area. He saw the slain party and found Eowyn shortly after. One of the guardsmen had survived, but he was wounded. Strider healed him and sent them both off to Edoras. 

"He spent days tracking the orcs, and he slew the small party guarding me before he bore me away. We could not travel to Edoras immediately because I was burning up with fever from my wounds. Strider found a safe place and cared for me until I was well enough to walk. During my convalescence, we shared many long conversations." 

Eomer sighed. "I cherished each and every one of our discussions. I completely lacked confidence in myself at the time...and Strider helped banish that. I thought myself weak and useless, but he dispelled that belief. When he returned me to the Golden Hall, I knew then that I had fallen in love with him. 

"I encountered him again after my majority. I was traveling to Gondor on a goodwill mission and Aragorn happened to be traveling the same path... we spent one of the most wondrous nights together, finding pleasure under the stars. He was my first lover, and I could not ask for a more beautiful initiation." 

"What happened afterward?"  Legolas asked, his voice gentle. 

Eomer said unsteadily, "As we lay together in the afterglow, I let it slip that I loved him."  His voice shook, but he continued, "He immediately pushed me away and left me; I have carried that wound since. I know now that it was because of Arwen that he spurned me; he did not know the depths of my feelings when I allowed him to seduce me." 

Legolas nodded, "Then I am not surprised at your reaction to the two of us in the Mark." 

Eomer said gravely. "I do not blame him. He could not know that the youth he rescued had fallen violently in love with him. He was probably expecting a brief liaison when we made love..." Eomer´s voice broke. 

Legolas touched his shoulder. "Please continue." 

Eomer said, "After he left, my heart turned to ash that day. And I never allowed anyone else to get close to me from that day forth."  He bowed his head in sorrow. 

"I am sorry," Legolas said. "If only I had known..."

"Nay, as the new King of Rohan, I know the weight of duty. I do not blame Aragorn for the events of the past."  He swallowed, not wanting to confess of the other wound Aragorn had opened: the one that caused his confidence to leave him that night. 

Legolas said, "And he could not tell you of his heritage. I am sorry that I treated you so aggressively, Eomer." 

"You are forgiven."  Eomer looked sadly at Legolas. "And now he has cast you aside as well." 

"Nay. Aragorn must always follow the call of duty. I was foolish to fight his destiny."  A single silver tear drifted down. 

Eomer replied quietly, "You were no more a fool than I was. Do not blame yourself, Legolas." 

Legolas looked at Eomer. "I do not. But I ache inside." 

Eomer leaned in. "As do I. I am weary of death and loss." 

Legolas whispered, "Eomer, do you remember your words to me at Helm´s Deep?" 

"Aye." 

"Then, as a friend, I ask if you´d be willing to let me find solace in your arms." 

Eomer´s head began to spin. He had always admired Legolas´ fairness, but he never thought that the elf would be attracted to him. 

"Eomer?"  Legolas asked again, vulnerability shining in the depths of his sapphire eyes. 

Eomer forced his dry throat to say, "I am willing." 

"Then come," Legolas said as he held out his hand. Eomer took it, feeling a sense of unreality as they walked to Legolas´ chambers. Once they were within, Legolas smiled, guiding Eomer over to sit with him on the bed. 

Eomer wrapped his arms around Legolas´ waist before he touched their lips together, his tongue tracing the seam of the exquisitely delicate mouth. 

Legolas opened gratefully for him, and Eomer explored the soft folds of his mouth, sliding his tongue against Legolas´. He moaned as he sampled Legolas´ sweet taste, and he deepened the kiss, craving more. 

As Legolas drew their bodies closer, Eomer stiffened. His mind recalled a different form, one broader and rougher to the touch. He remembered running his fingers through coarse, wild hair, and heard the sounds of a gravelly voice soothing him. 

He pushed Legolas away. "I cannot. The memory of Aragorn haunts me. I am sorry." 

Legolas did not reply. He jumped lightly to his feet and walked around his room, extinguishing the candles one by one. Eomer did not watch him; he bowed his head, shamed at his hesitance. 

"Eomer," Legolas said, his voice taking on a heavier Elvish accent. "Look at me," he said commandingly. 

Eomer looked up and his breath caught. Legolas stood by one of the largest windows and had pulled the curtain back. Moonlight bathed his form, and Eomer could now see the faint shimmer in his skin. Legolas´ sapphire eyes gleamed, and for the first time Eomer saw the weight of years in the usually light-hearted gaze. They spoke of countless years roaming Middle Earth, through more generations of men than Eomer could even fathom. 

"Do not let Aragorn´s presence come between us," Legolas said, slowly disrobing. "Tonight is for the two of us...empty your thoughts of anything else." 

Eomer´s breath hitched as Legolas gracefully shrugged off the last of his garments. The satiny, alabaster skin covering his lithe body caught the moonlight and reflected it, causing the elf to be surrounded by a soft, ethereal glow. The silken fall of white-gold hair swirled about his shoulders, enticing Eomer to bury his face in it. 

Legolas walked slowly up to him, his movements catlike and deliberate. Eomer swallowed nervously as Legolas closed the distance between them, pushing him back onto the bed. 

Eomer felt Legolas´ slender, dexterous fingers quickly undoing the clasps on his garment. Eomer moaned loudly as he felt Legolas slowly stroking his chest, running his fingers through the light sprinkling of hair. 

He felt Legolas pressing delicate kisses to his jaw and throat, and he murmured softly, tangling his hands in Legolas´ white-gold hair, marveling at how it felt smoother than the finest satin. 

Eomer hissed as Legolas latched onto a dusky aureole, feeling the caress of his hot tongue skillfully tease the sensitive skin into a tight nub. 

Legolas pulled off Eomer´s garments without breaking contact, and he shivered in the slightly cool air. He watched the golden head kiss its way down his body, nibbling and sucking until he was moaning loudly. 

A pearly drop was beading at the tip of Eomer´s hard shaft, and Legolas touched the tip of his tongue to it, drawing the precious moisture slowly into his mouth. 

"Delicious," he purred, making Eomer flush lightly. Legolas pushed Eomer´s legs to his stomach, and his hot breath wafted over his entrance. 

Eomer´s made a small noise in his throat, in eager anticipation of what was to come next. He convulsed as he felt Legolas´ slick tongue delicately circling the puckered flesh. 

Legolas kept teasing Eomer, continuing to lick in feather light circles until Eomer was thrashing in frustration. 

"Legolas," he begged, his voice small and plaintive. Legolas stabbed his tongue in, causing Eomer to arch up sharply. Legolas´ deceptively strong body easily controlled Eomer´s, holding the quaking man in place as his tongue thrust deep inside, driving Eomer to sweet madness. 

Legolas suddenly pulled back, causing Eomer to complain. 

"Eomer," Legolas purred, his melodic voice caressing Eomer´s ears. "I want to take you." 

Eomer swallowed and nodded. There was a vial of oil by the bed, and Legolas pulled the stopper off. He poured some of the oil onto his fingers, and paused. 

"Has there been anyone else since Aragorn?"  Legolas asked softly. 

"No one male," Eomer replied. 

"Then I will go slowly."  His finger gently pressed at the small entrance and Eomer felt himself tensing up slightly. 

"Let yourself relax, lirimaer," Legolas trilled. He began to speak to Eomer in Elvish, his voice soothing. He clasped his hand around Eomer´s erection and began stroking the hard flesh, his clever fingers dancing along the length. 

Eomer moaned, losing himself in the sensation. He cried out softly as Legolas´ slick finger entered him, caressing him inside. 

"You´re so beautiful in your passion," Legolas cooed, slowly stretching the tight channel. He crooked his finger, rubbing over the sensitive spot within. Eomer almost flew off the bed at the contact. He voiced out a strangled cry as Legolas pressed another finger in, scissoring them lightly as he continued to stroke the heart of his pleasure. 

"Legolas...please," Eomer said thickly. "Take me now..."

"Yes," Legolas breathed as he withdrew his fingers. He poured some more oil onto his hand and applied it to his organ. Eomer parted his legs eagerly, his eyes dark with lust. 

Legolas positioned himself at Eomer´s entrance and then pushed the tip of his sex in. Eomer cried out again, wrapping his legs around Legolas´ waist to draw him in closer. 

Legolas slowly entered him, the languid glide of his shaft sending sparks through Eomer´s body. Once he was nestled completely within, Eomer mewled, his body quivering. 

Kissing him gently, Legolas began to thrust slowly, trying to carefully build their passion. Eomer felt his senses spiraling out of control, his body igniting hotter than a forge. He suddenly hungered for more. 

He grasped Legolas´ buttocks roughly and growled, "Faster." 

"Are you certain?"  Legolas asked, his eyes tinged with concern. 

"Ravish me, Legolas. Take me until the memory of Aragorn is burned out of my mind," Eomer breathed. 

"Very well," Legolas said huskily, before he drew back and slammed into Eomer roughly. 

Eomer keened, thrashing underneath Legolas. He urged him on, and Legolas pounded into him, reaching down with his hand to grasp Eomer´s weeping shaft. 

Eomer felt himself unraveling at the relentless pace, and his keens built to an incredible volume. Legolas bent down and sealed their mouths together, swallowing his cries while he kept up the frantic pace. He flexed his hips slightly, angling himself so that he was stroking over Eomer´s sensitive spot. 

Eomer gave a muffled groan and climaxed, spurting hotly over Legolas´ hand. The force of his release traveled through his body, gripping Legolas tightly. 

Legolas wailed into Eomer´s mouth, jabbing him hard twice more before his slim form convulsed, splashing his release deep within Eomer. 

While Eomer was still quaking, Legolas scooped up the essence pooled on Eomer´s stomach with his fingers. He delicately sucked each digit clean, savoring the taste. Eomer trembled, feeling a small ache within him as he watched Legolas supping on the pearly liquid. 

Legolas bent down and kissed Eomer tenderly, letting the man taste himself. He withdrew his shaft as their tongues played and teased each other, causing Eomer to whimper at the loss. 

Legolas pulled Eomer to him, cradling him against his pale chest. "Thank you, mellon-nin," Legolas breathed. 

Eomer snuggled closer. "Legolas...may I ask a boon of you?" 

"What is it?" 

"Come with me to Edoras. I have much to put in order, and I have denied myself companionship for much too long. I wish to enjoy the precious little time I have left before duty calls and I must take a wife." 

Legolas kissed him lightly, "Then I will journey with you. Nothing would please me more." 

"Thank you," Eomer said. He suddenly yawned. "I am afraid that I am quite weary." 

"Then sleep. I would enjoy holding you through the night," Legolas said. As Eomer relaxed, Legolas began to sing to him. 

Eomer tensed, immediately recognizing the melody. After he had been rescued, he had trouble resting, so Aragorn had cradled him in his arms and lulled him to sleep with a lilting, Elvish song. 

He felt a small pang, remembering how he had felt safe and cherished in Aragorn´s arms. But he could not undo the past, nor influence Aragorn´s future. 

With an effort, he pushed the memory aside. He knew now that he could not dwell on it, or else he would poison himself. Their fates had already been written, and they were just not meant to be. 

He settled in Legolas´ arms, and as he drifted off, he was determined to not let the ghosts of the past haunt him any longer. No, it was time now to embrace the future. To push aside the uncertainty and doubt that had been plaguing him. 

Before the last of his conscious thought left him, he finally fell into his first easy slumber in years. 

THE END

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