Author: Lostiawen

E-mail: changeling@planetx.org

Rated: NC-17

Pairing: Legolas/Aragorn, Eomer/Legolas

Summary: Eomer discovers that elven song is much more potent than he had originally had been led to believe. 

Archive: Library of Moria

Feedback: Yes, please.

Warnings: light BDSM

Disclaimer: The author does not own the characters, they are the property of J. R.R. Tolkien and his estate.

Author´s Notes: Movie-verse, set in Helm's Deep shortly after TTT.  If there are any corrections to my Elvish, please let me know, since I´m very new to this. 

Elvish dictionary :
mellon nin = dear friend
seldo = Child (male)
Tancave, hiramin = Yes, my lord. 

Posted March 3, 2003

Eomer rubbed a weary hand over his forehead after the last of the dirt was turned onto the grave. After the battle of Helm´s Deep, aid was needed to repair the shattered fortifications, bandage the wounded, and attend to the dead. He had readily volunteered because the survivors were weary from fighting all night, save for Legolas, Aragorn, and Gimli. Unfortunately, much needed to be done, and everyone had been steadily occupied throughout the day. He guessed that it was now somewhat late at night. 

He decided to offer his assistance to the trio, since he was now finished. Eomer walked past the graves of many brave men and elves and shook his head in regret; their lives could have been spared if the Rohirrim had arrived sooner. 

Somewhat in the distance, he saw that Aragorn had just finished burying someone. The ranger then slumped to the ground in sorrow. Legolas stood over him, gently grasping his friend´s shoulders from behind, his head bowed. 

Eomer realized that they must have just committed Haldir´s body to the cold earth. He started walking towards them, wanting to offer his condolences. 

As he approached, he saw Legolas speak, but the elf´s voice was too soft for him to discern any words. As Eomer´s steps drew him closer, the sounds of a soft Elvish tune drifted through the air. 

The horseman now realized that Legolas had not been talking, but had raised his voice in song. Eomer felt that he should turn around, but curiosity drew him closer. 

He listened, fascinated, as the sweet notes drifted through the air, tinged with obvious sadness. Soon, Aragorn joined the elf, his deeper baritone weaving expertly with Legolas´ tenor, lending fullness to the melody. 

Then a most peculiar sensation seized hold of Eomer. He heard the sonorous tones echoing in his head. The reverberating notes soon became more robust, building upon each previous phrase. Eomer felt the lilting tune permeating his brain, winding its way through his memories. 

An overwhelming sense of sorrow suddenly rushed through him. Grief for a fallen friend...a cousin...one who he had met decades...no, millennia ago, when he was a mere stripling in the court...when he was a youth just starting to travel in the forests of mankind...

The music built in richness and strength, and soon scattered images filled Eomer´s sight, blotting out his view, scenarios that he somehow observed through Aragorn´s and Legolas´ eyes. Scenes of spending many days in quiet contemplation of nature with Haldir...being made welcome in Lorien as the youngest prince of Mirkwood...finding himself in awe of the March Warden, of his sharpness of ear and his sureness in bow...having him become his dearest teacher in archery...finding out that despite his outward coldness a great love for all things living burned in him... confiding in him and becoming more fond of him than any of his brothers...being introduced to Legolas through Haldir... being introduced to Aragorn...the three of them spending many days hunting and feasting together...

The scenarios were now intertwining... the relief experienced when Haldir let them find refuge in Lorien, despite the dwarf´s presence...sheer joy when he appeared at Helm´s Deep...and the piercing pain and rage when he died at the hands of the Uruk-hai. 

The melody built to a crescendo, the notes echoing upon themselves as the air vibrated with their lamentations, then it gradually gentled to a whispering, melancholy conclusion. 

He saw Legolas and Aragorn tightly embrace, tears trickling from their eyes. They held each other for what seemed an eternity, softly murmuring in Elvish. 

Eomer was frozen in place, confused by the experience. What had happened? 

As if reading his thoughts, Aragorn looked up. Surprise flickered across the ranger´s countenance. "Lord Eomer, I am sorry. I did not mean for you to get enmeshed in the weaving of our song." 

Eomer looked confused. Legolas clarified, "We wanted to share what Haldir meant to us, so we sang the glir of remembrance. It is a way for a group of elves to share their memories and feelings for a dear one who has departed for the Halls of Mandos. "

Aragorn added apologetically, "I thought that no one else would hear us. I am sorry for causing you distress." 

Eomer barely choked out, "It is I who should apologize, I did not mean to intrude."  A wave of grief suddenly hit him. 

Aragorn was by Eomer´s side in a few long strides and wrapped his large arms around the horseman. Legolas shortly joined him, encircling his slender arms around the two of them. "The sorrow will not cease haunting you until you grieve with us."  Legolas´ melodious voice informed the young Rohan warrior. 

"Let the tears come," Aragorn said softly. 

Surrounded by warmth and comfort, Eomer was surprised to find himself weeping. Legolas and Aragorn soon followed, joining in his lament. After the horseman had concluded his bereavement for Haldir, he found himself mourning for Theodred, and for the men and elves that had died at Helm´s Deep. Legolas and Aragorn continued to hold him, while he purged the emotions he had stringently held in check since his exile. 

Eventually, no more tears would come, and Eomer shuddered softly. The three of them clung together silently for a while. 

Time passed. Aragorn eventually released Eomer and patted him on the back. "Gentlemen, after the countless events of the last 36 hours, I think it would benefit us all to have a comforting bath. Lord Eomer, is there another stream nearby?" 

The horseman nodded as Legolas relinquished his hold on the two of them. A bath would be most welcome. He was covered with dirt, sweat, and blood; Aragorn was practically caked head to toe in it. Even the normally pristine elf had some orc blood splattered on him. 

There was a stream beyond Helm´s Deep in a small wooded copse, and Eomer eagerly led the way. As they were walking, he surreptitiously stole a few glances at Legolas, remembering his first encounter with Aragorn and his party in the Riddermark. 

The brooding ranger had caught Eomer´s fancy with his chiseled features, but the ice blue eyes threatened to devour and consume all who would defy him. And there was something...else there that Eomer could not define, something that made him shy away. 

Legolas, however, was another matter. The elf was fair beyond words, but what attracted Eomer were his defiant eyes. Eyes that challenged Eomer to seduce and conquer him. Eyes that promised the world to his conqueror. If the trio had not been so concerned for their lost hobbits, Eomer would have been more than willing at the time to test Legolas´ unspoken demands. 

He felt a sting of regret after he left them in the Riddermark. And he spent many lonely nights afterward thinking about Legolas´ lovely body writhing underneath his as he stroked himself. When Gandalf summoned him to Helm´s Deep, he almost wondered if the wizard suspected his secret desires, since he took care to mention that Legolas, Aragorn, and Gimli were making a last stand with his uncle. 

Eomer stopped brooding and turned his gaze towards the Legolas again, admiring the delicate features framed with white-gold hair, soft and fine as spider silk. It fell in a cloud around his shoulders and back. The elf´s lithe body was covered by bulky armor, but nothing obscured the view of his long, beautiful legs. Eomer felt his body flush as he imagined Legolas´ fair form completely unclothed. 

As they were walking, Legolas changed the direction of his stride and veered towards the fortress. Eomer was about to call out to the elf, but Aragorn stopped him. "He´ll soon catch up with us," the ranger said calmly. 

Eomer inwardly sighed at the sound of Aragorn´s voice. The slight Elvish accent turned every word into a soft caress, and each syllable dripped with the hint of dark, sybaritic delights. Delights that came at too high a price, he reminded himself. 

His thoughts were interrupted by Legolas´ swift return. The elf had brought his pack and their cloaks. 

"Had to retrieve the necessary bathing and grooming implements, did you not?"  Aragorn teased. 

Legolas blushed, pink coloring the tips of his ears and his cheeks. Eomer thought the elf looked quite charming and idly wondered if Legolas flushed the same way in the throes of passion. To his dismay, he felt blood filling his groin as he mused. The horseman cursed himself silently; he was going to cause himself much embarrassment if he continued this line of thinking. 

Needing to distract himself, Eomer glanced up at the sky. There were clouds in the heavens tonight, obscuring the stars and some of the moon from his view. Still, the partial light was bright enough to illuminate their way. 

Legolas´ voice brought Eomer back to the present. "I decided to bring our cloaks and some dry cloths because the night weather is chilly. Last night´s rain made it impossible for us to build a fire with which we could dry ourselves in front of." 

Eomer replied, "Since you only have two cloaks, I will brave the cold. I am well accustomed to it." 

Aragorn smiled, "Legolas does not feel the cold, Lord Eomer. Do not be distressed on his behalf. You may use one of ours." 

"Many thanks, Lord Aragorn."  Eomer replied. "And please, let us not stand on formality."  The ranger nodded in acknowledgment. 

They had now reached the stream. The trio eagerly divested themselves of their filthy clothing on a nearby bank. Despite himself, Eomer again stole a sideways glance at his companions. His breath caught at the sight of the long, lean muscle and alabaster skin that covered Legolas´ slender body. No hair marred his smooth skin, save for a small nest of white-gold curls at the juncture between his legs. 

Aragorn was no less breathtaking. Although his skin was covered with scars and fresh wounds, it did nothing to detract from the lightly furred, tanned chest rippling with well-defined muscles. His arms and legs were also hardened from years of travel and battle, and Eomer could see them flex provocatively as Aragorn moved. Steely, well-rounded buttocks completed the picture. 

Eomer felt his body beginning to respond again. He grew annoyed with himself, since he had not acted this flustered since he was an adolescent. He tried to focus on other issues, but his body disagreed with his efforts to cool his ardor. Grumbling, he quickly dove into the water to disguise his arousal. He hissed as the cool water hit his skin, banishing his weariness and clearing his head. He wet his long blond hair, and flung it back as he stood up in the waist-deep water. 

Legolas and Aragorn surfaced nearby him. The elf had a bottle of scented bathing oil and a washcloth in his hands. He gestured towards Aragorn. 

Aragorn arched an eyebrow upward, "Are you implying something about my present state, mellon nin?" 

"Oh no, my Lord Aragorn," Legolas replied in a sing-song voice, stating the last two words with an exceedingly playful tone. No change crossed the ranger´s expression, but Eomer saw the ice blue eyes deepen slightly in color. 

"Well then, *seldo*," Aragorn said firmly, "since you seem to think that I am overly filthy, you can start removing the dirt yourself."  He turned his back towards Legolas, waiting. 

Eomer was expecting another flippant response from the elf. Instead, Legolas replied in a soft voice, "Tancave, hiramin." 

The elf approached Aragorn and poured some of the oil onto the ranger´s broad back; he then began to work the blood and dirt off with the washcloth. Aragorn murmured in appreciation as the roughened cloth swept over his skin. 

Eomer was puzzled, but dismissed their conversation. He gleaned from the memories that flooded through him earlier that they had been close comrades for decades, and that was well enough time to form private jests and phrases that were meaningless to others. Still, shadowy suspicions formed in his mind about their peculiar exchange. 

His eyes idly watched Legolas as he attended to Aragorn, admiring the supple muscles and thinking about the swell of the tight buttocks that were hidden from his gaze. The horseman wondered what Aragorn would look like once he was clean, oil glistening on each hard muscle. 

Growling, Eomer clamped down on his thoughts and began working on his own grime. He got off as much as he could and frowned. His long, golden hair was soiled, but he wanted to be able to use some of the oil to cleanse the thick locks, or else it would become a huge mass of tangles. 

Noticing that it would take a while for Legolas to clean Aragorn´s back, and needing to get away from the tempting bodies, Eomer decided that to retreat some distance away. He climbed out of the river and headed for the bank. 

He picked up his garments and called out, "Aragorn, Legolas, I am going downstream to rinse out my clothes. I will return shortly."  The ranger and the elf nodded in acknowledgment as Eomer took his leave of them. 

He walked until he was far downriver. Placing his apparel in the water, he began the long process of cleaning them. Eomer cursed as he fought some of the stubborn stains. His breeches and tunic hadn´t been rinsed for a while, so there was a lot of dirt to scrub out. 

When he finished, he walked back to their bathing area. He idly noticed that the ranger´s the elf´s clothes had been cleaned and were hanging from the branches of a nearby tree. Ruefully, he realized that he had underestimated the swiftness of the archer´s hands. Eomer hoped that they were still continuing with their abulations, since it would be awkward for him to request use of the bathing oil otherwise. He had not quite cleared the bushes when he caught sight of Legolas and Aragorn. 

The two had moved closer to shore, where the water was only knee deep. They were locked in a tight embrace, and were kissing each other passionately. Eomer found himself frozen in place, his breathing becoming heavier as he devoured the scenario with his eyes. The grime had been completely removed from Aragorn, and the oil on his body brought each of his muscles out in sharp relief, making him look like a god. His hair had been washed and was fell in damp strands around his face. His tanned skin stood out in blatant contrast to Legolas´ milky paleness. 

Legolas had scrubbed off the small spots of orc blood that had marred the immaculate perfection of his body. The spun gold of his hair was free of braids and cascaded wetly over his slender back, accenting the firm roundness of his buttocks. 

Eomer watched, entranced, as Aragorn broke off the kiss and paused to nibble on Legolas´ lower lip before capturing it again. 

Sudden heat filled Eomer´s body. Legolas moaned softly as Aragorn pressed kisses along his jaw, the sound causing Eomer to harden. "Quiet, seldo," Aragorn murmured before he began to slowly nibble on the elf´s ear, tracing his tongue along the whorl and sucking on the pointed tip. 

Legolas groaned sweetly again, his cry causing Eomer´s body to throb in response. Aragorn continued on, teasing the elf´s smooth neck and chest with soft nibbles and licks. Legolas arched against the ranger, tossing his head side to side and biting his lip as he tried to muffle the sounds of his pleasure. 

Aragorn´s rough fingers stroked Legolas´ cheek and slowly moved towards his mouth. The elf eagerly curled his mouth around two of them, fervently suckling the proffered digits and letting them muffle his moans. 

The sight of Legolas engulfing Aragorn´s fingers with his mouth, face flushed in passion and eyes half-lidded with lust, almost undid Eomer. He fought down a small moan as the blood pulsed to the bursting point in his sex. 

Aragorn moved his other hand downward, grasping Legolas´ erection. The elf pulled his mouth off of the ranger´s fingers. 

"Ai! No, my lord!"  he protested. "Eomer will be back soon." 

"We have enough time for you to surrender yourself, lovely one," Aragorn said huskily. "Now, come for me."  He began to set a swift pace on Legolas´ turgid flesh, replacing his fingers in the elf´s mouth. Unable to stop himself, Eomer grasped his member and began stroking in time with Aragorn´s hand, biting down on his left index knuckle to avoid making a sound. 

Soon, Legolas made a muted keen, arching backwards and shuddering as pearly strands splashed across his stomach. The elf´s pleasure sent Eomer over the edge, the young warrior´s body quaking in release as hot liquid splashed across his hand. 

Confused and shamed, the horseman crept quietly upstream to cleanse himself, hoping that the pair did not notice him. 

His thoughts were jumbled. Why had he reacted so? He should have let the couple have privacy, but he could not stop staring at them. He wondered what unnatural urges possessed him to stay and stroke himself. At the mere thought of the ranger and the elf, his mind lingered on the lovely vision of Legolas writhing and crying out helplessly. Again, he felt a burning desire awakening within him. 

Sweet Valar, he thought, that memory will undo me for many nights hence. Unnatural or not, the display had been incredibly thrilling. 

He then hungrily thought of Aragorn´s oiled muscles, but remembered the scene earlier. He now knew exactly what had disturbed him when he had met the ranger, and he had no wish to serve Aragorn in that particular fashion. Eomer sighed at the lost possibility of pursuing Legolas; he doubted that the ranger would permit anyone to share his precious elf. 

Disappointed, the horseman slipped into the water, washing his hand and his shaft before starting to work on his hair. 

He growled as he noticed that the stream was insufficient for his needs. As he dipped his hair again, he noticed that the clouds had parted finally, revealing more of the full moon, but still obscuring the stars. Small rays of light danced throughout the area. 

"Let me assist you, Eomer," Legolas´ melodious voice suddenly trilled in his ear. "I wish to apologize for your unintentional participation in the glir." 

Eomer was disquieted by the fact that he did not detect the elf´s passage. He cursed himself for a fool for forgetting that the fair folk could move without the slightest noise. He fervently hoped that Legolas´ sharp senses had not caught him spying earlier. 

Eomer turned his head to reply, but his breath caught in his throat before a word could escape. The moon bathed Legolas in its light, turning his flawless alabaster skin an ethereal silver. His wet, flaxen hair glistened in the luminous beams, and fell in thick strands around the lithe muscles and delicate features; his large, sapphire blue eyes were dilated until they were almost black. Stray droplets of water clinging to the elf´s hair and skin glittered like jewels, completing the achingly fair vision in front of him. 

As Eomer tried to keep himself from gaping, Legolas said, "I am sorry, Lord Eomer, I did not mean to offend you with my presumption. I will go join Aragorn at the fortress." 

Realizing that Legolas had mistaken his silence for anger, Eomer hastily replied, "Do not go. It is I who must offer my apologies this time. I was thinking of how I might best dispatch patrols tonight, and was distracted." 

The horseman´s mind was awhirl. Aragorn had left, leaving him alone with the elf. He felt a small shiver course through his body at the prospect of nestling closer to this beautiful creature, even if the contact was offered in a purely platonic fashion. 

Eomer continued, "It would please me greatly if you could help me." 

Legolas nodded. He poured some of the oil onto Eomer´s hair and began to work it in. 

The oil felt unusual to Eomer. It was slippery and not all sticky. Noticing his puzzlement, Legolas replied, "This is a rinse made from a plant called soaproot. The elves find it much more cleansing than bathing oils." 

Eomer wondered why Aragorn was covered in oil earlier. As if he was sensing what was on the horseman´s mind, Legolas replied, "The chill air will cause your skin to crack open, but you can protect it with the oil I have in my pack. You can apply it after you´ve finished bathing." 

"Thank you, Legolas." 

The elf began to massage Eomer´s scalp with soothing fingers, causing the young warrior to sigh in relief. As Legolas worked on the grime, the rinse´s scent tickled the horseman´s nostrils. It had a delicate floral smell, which was given richness by another fragrance that was warm and sensuous. 

"That aroma is very soothing," he remarked. 

Legolas´ lips quirked in a small smile. "It is crafted from the essence of the flowers of the bitter orange tree and from the essence of orchid pods. A long and arduous process is required to extract both elixirs, but it is well worth it." 

Eomer sighed again. "Your people never cease to cause me wonder. Tell me Legolas, I have heard your folk sing, but none have affected me as has your glir of remembrance. How can this be?" 

Legolas continued to smile. "It is a special gift that has been granted to my race. Some of our melodies are for mere entertainment, but some can create wondrous effects. The weaving of a glir, a song, is dependent on both the expertise of the vocalist and on innate talent." 

"I assume that you are the most gifted of all, Legolas?" 

Legolas blushed, sending a small thrill through Eomer´s blood. "Nay, Eomer. The Lady Galadriel has that honor. I am merely a warrior, so I can only invoke music of a limited purpose." 

Curious, Eomer asked, "And it is?" 

"I do not wish to reveal all of my secrets, Eomer," Legolas said with a sly half-smile on his lips. "You shall find out eventually." 

Legolas´ last statement was said teasingly. Eomer immediately wondered if the elf´s request to wash his hair was entirely innocent. Deciding to stay alert for subtle indications of interest, the horseman continued the conversation. 

"One thing puzzles me. I assume that Aragorn was able to participate because he is a scion of Luthien. Can he not weave a song on his own?" 

"He can, but only a very few. Luthien´s blood is very dilute in his veins," Legolas replied. 

The elf finished rinsing Eomer´s hair and began to detangle it with his dexterous fingers. "I wish I had some honey with me, it would make this easier."  he said, slightly annoyed as he combed through the thick golden locks. 

Eomer replied gratefully, "You do well enough, friend Legolas. Much better than I would by myself." 

Legolas laughed, each peal as clear as a silver bell. "You flatter me, Eomer."  he said, almost shyly. 

As Legolas worked on the snarls, Eomer could smell the elf´s sweet scent, mixing with the sensual smell of the rinse and making an intoxicating perfume. He was now painfully aware of the closeness of the pale body, and wondered if the archer felt the same way. 

Legolas´ fingers suddenly encountered a rat´s nest of tangled hair as he was tugging backwards. Eomer winced in pain, arching his body to relieve the agony, the action causing him to brush his head against Legolas´ chest. Far too many profuse apologies immediately escaped from the elf´s lips as he gently worked his hands free. 

Curious, Eomer decided to test Legolas. "Do not worry," he said softly, "you can make amends by helping me wash my back."  The horseman smiled when he saw Legolas flush. 

"Is there a problem with my offer?"  Eomer asked innocently. 

"N-nay," Legolas answered hesitantly, causing Eomer to curl the corners of his mouth into a wicked grin. 

"But first, I need your clever fingers to rid me of this snarl," he remarked as he pressed his back and head against Legolas´ chest. He heard the elf´s sudden intake of breath, and knew that he had unsettled him. The thought brought a surge of blood to his groin. 

Eomer began to shift subtly against the smooth body as the elf worked on the large knot of hair, amused at the small gasps he was causing. Eventually, the tangle was unraveled, and Legolas said softly, "Friend Eomer, I need you to advance forward before I can continue my task." 

Eomer stretched upward, flexing the well-defined muscles in his back. He looked behind him out of the corner of his eye and smiled. Legolas´ face still remained calm, but his eyes were gazing at the young warrior hungrily. 

"You may begin," Eomer said, lowering his voice to a throaty whisper. He noticed that as Legolas poured some of the rinse onto his skin that his hands were not quite steady. The horseman decided to relax into the archer´s ministrations before proceeding further. 

He heard the elf´s breathing becoming ragged as the delicate fingers worked their way down his back. The touch of Legolas´ hands and the knowledge that he was affecting the elf caused him to harden further. The heady perfume he smelled earlier was permeating the air, stealing his reason. He suddenly burned with the need to possess the elf as Aragorn had, regardless of the consequences. 

Legolas finished rinsing and started to take his hands off Eomer. The horseman whirled about and caught the elf´s slight wrists. "You missed a spot," he purred, before pressing Legolas´ hands to his aching flesh. 

Legolas shuddered, his eyelids fluttering. "Nay, do not do this," he breathed, but he did not remove himself from Eomer´s loose grip. He locked gazes with the horseman, challenge flaring in the azure depths. The blood in Eomer´s veins surged to the surface, heating his body, and he knew that he could not stop now. 

"You lie," Eomer said huskily. He grasped Legolas´ shoulders roughly, "Feel the effect you have on me," he said throatily while grinding into the slender hands. Legolas whimpered softly, melting under Eomer´s touch. 

The soft cry broke through the last of Eomer´s control, he slammed his mouth against the elf´s in a bruising kiss. 

Legolas tasted of honey and sweet blossoms. Eomer found it intoxicating, drinking more of it in as he devoured the elf´s lips and tongue. He released Legolas so that his hands could wander over the smooth chest, revelling in the texture of the elf´s satiny skin. Legolas gave voice to the same sweet moan that almost undid Eomer earlier, causing him to feel as if he would burst. The elf pushed weakly against the horseman´s chest, but Eomer caught the slender wrists in a firm grasp, pinning them behind the pale body. Legolas whimpered softly, setting Eomer´s blood afire. 

Switching his grip on the elf´s wrists to one hand, he grabbed the firm buttocks in his other. He ground his hips fiercely against Legolas, moaning loudly against the elf´s mouth as their erections slid across each other. 

Legolas forcefully broke the kiss. "Nay," he said weakly, "Don´t... mmph," his protest was muffled as Eomer caught his mouth again, ravaging the elf´s lips with the fierceness of his desire. 

As they parted, Eomer heard Legolas shuddering for breath. "Give in to me, fair one," he murmured as he licked droplets of water from the silvered flesh on the elf´s neck. 

"I think not."  Aragorn´s voice suddenly said from the bushes. Startled, Eomer turned his head around, swallowing convulsively as the ranger walked into view, naked and glistening in the moonlight. 

------
end chapter 1

Chapter 2
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