.|. Radical Dreamers .|.

Chapter 13

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Aragorn ran after Legolas at top speed, both his legs and lungs screaming in protest, having been proved already by the battle against the Orcs and the long days spent with hardly any nourishment. Luckily for him Legolas hadn’t ran far and Aragorn found him soon, standing at the edge of a calm lake. The water was immobile, and the darkness gave room to a little sunlight along the white sandy shores. Pale radiance spilled from above, sliding through a shivering leaf and another to create shapeless patterns of black and gold on the ground. Legolas stood there bathed in the soft brilliance; so ethereal and beautiful, as though woven of the light itself.

Hadn’t Aragorn been breathless already for the run, he would have been struggling for breath at the mere sight of him.

Legolas pretended not to notice the man slinking up behind him, even though Aragorn knew he had heard him coming for sure. He came behind the Elf, and hesitantly wrapped his arms around him, tugging the lithe one gently until they were pressed one against the other, with Legolas’s fair head laying gently on Aragorn’s broad shoulder. The Man knew there was something he should say or do, but for the moment being he did nothing but bury his nose in Legolas’s hair and bask in his sweet scent. He’d missed the Elf so much… And there were so many thoughts swirling in his mind… so many that he was not sure which one to pick and voice first. Some were not enough, some where too… childlike, some a little too bold. And only very few of those could expound the depths of his feelings. All of his love, his relief, his joy. They way they twined inside him in a hot wave, a fire that consumed him even as it warmed him.

So he just held Legolas closer, and closer still when he felt the Elf relax against him.

“I’m… back.” Legolas whispered, and felt Aragon’s breath hot and moist against his skin as the Man smiled, nuzzling his face against the side of the Elf’s neck.

“Yes, you are. And I’m so… so… *grateful*…” There was something in his voice; something that made it soft and heavy at the same time, and that made Legolas’s heart skip a whole bunch of beats. “I wanted to see you. I wanted you to come back.” He reached around to cup Legolas’s chin and tilted the Elf’s head to meet his eyes. “And I thought you had died, also. I thought you had died and that it was my fault. And when I thought that, my chest burned so much I couldn’t breathe.” Legolas met Aragon’s unwavering gaze shakily, not quite believing what he was hearing. “Don’t ever go away, Legolas. Whatever happens, just don’t leave me again.”

Legolas’s eyes widened, their colour suspended between otherworldly blue and soothing green, wisps of golden flickering in their depths.

“…Strider?” His heart pounded. Soundly, and a little too quick, which was unusual for an Elf such as he. It was not for the run, that much he was sure of. It was for the Man’s closeness, the emotions he saw swaying in his gaze. Emotion he knew even when he shouldn’t, and that seeing bare in such a way were making him feel weak, deliciously warm.

“Whatever you do…” The Ranger whispered, “Don’t ever leave me…”

“Never…” the Elf agreed softly, shifting in the Man’s arms to face him, and took his stubbled face in his cupped hands. “Won’t you…” he said softly, barely an inch from Strider’s lips. “…tell me why?” And Aragorn grinned, that smug grin of his that irritated Legolas so much, mostly because he loved it beyond words.

Without a word the Man plunged down, capturing Legolas’s lips an earth-shattering kiss to which the Elf responded instantly, with fiery passion, his hands sliding up Strider’s face and then around his neck. When they finally parted, a good deal of minutes later, Aragorn was still grinning, smugness written all over his face as he watched Legolas try to catch his breath. Once he was done, the Elf glared at the Man, ready for one of their usual quarrels, when Aragorn managed to surprise him *yet* again.

“Because I love you Legolas, and it is my wish to share with you what time the Valar will grant me.” And then the hearty confession was followed by another fierce kiss, one that Legolas was powerless to refuse him. In fact, he responded to it with all the passion he could muster, winding his arms tighter around the Man’s neck to press their bodies closer together.

It was bliss.

Pure bliss.

The few parts of their bodies that weren’t in sheer contact were reached and warmed by the feverish caresses they shared. Legolas’s body fit *perfectly* against Aragon’s own – a match made in Valinor.

Sadly it was over relatively soon, even thought not before the first few buttons of Legolas’s tunic got loose and that Legolas’s hand found its way under the Man’s shirt. If truth be told it ended because Aragorn’s lower regions seemed to have a mind of their own, responding to Legolas’s closeness in a very peculiar (and indecent) way. It was a natural reaction, especially in the light of the beauty of the Elf in his arms, of the feelings the Man held for him, and of all had come to pass before he could hold the Elf so.

Either way, it surprised Legolas.

His eyes flew open upon feeling the Man’s body reacting to him – it was undeniable, powerful and hot against his own groin. He jumped away from the Man with flushed cheeks, glaring at Strider through his lashes once he was at a safe distance. Aragorn just stood there scratching the back of his head, looking at anywhere but Legolas’s eyes as his breeches became even tighter.

His rescue came in the form of a bunch of child-like creatures, four of them to be accurate, that all but began dancing around Legolas frantically, shouting at the two of them it was time to return to the base. Legolas gave his thanks with a gentle smile; then prompted the children to lead the way, his arms still wrapped protectively around his body. The four…err… *five* (there was a Squirrel dressed in full battle regalia perched atop one of the little ones’ shoulder), bounced back in the direction they’d come from, shouting and cheering and singing silly songs about “Scare-scare-scare the weedy Orcs awaaaaaay!”. Legolas smiled after them for a moment, and then turned to glare at Aragorn.

“Strider…” he said in a low voice, and Aragorn shrank under the icy glare he *knew* (even without looking) that he was receiving. Well, not that he did so literally. To be honest, even as Legolas talked there was a quite visible bulge in the Man’s constrictive breeches. Strider clenched his eyes shut, expecting Legolas to be as angry as never before at him.

After all, even if they were extremely open minded when it came to nudity and such, no Elf would ever even *talk* about sex lightly, least of all show his desire so openly. They thought that sharing their body with someone was a sacred thing - like a ritual of sorts, a vow of love or loyalty given without words. And the concept alone that some would share his of her body for mere and feeling-free pleasure scandalized many a Elf. So, seeing how Aragorn had reacted to his proximity, Legolas would most likely seethe, probably even thinking the Man shallow and his feelings fake.

Strider clenched his fists until he felt his own nails pierce his flesh, preparing himself for the blow; for Legolas’s shouts, his anger and his rejection. But when the blow came, it was nothing like he had expected it to be;

“You’re a pervert.” Legolas did say, but something didn’t sound quite right in his tone: Aragorn thought he heard laughter rippling deep in the sweet elven voice, and was temped to look up. After a moment’s struggle he did exactly so, and was rewarded by the brightest smile he’d ever see in his life.

“Let us go. We’re awaited.” Legolas said softly, reaching out for Aragorn. The Man was stunned, and something inside the Elf’s eyes made him reach out to the extended hand before his mind even grasped what he was doing.

It shocked him when, with a laugh, Legolas grasped his hand and dragged him in the same direction the children had disappeared. But that shock was nothing compared to the blissful pang he felt in his heart when Legolas whirled around abruptly, letting their chest bump, and stopped his dash only long enough to place a quick kiss on the Man’s lips.

“Amin mela lle, Strider.” Legolas said, his breath soft as summer breeze against Aragorn’s mouth. “I love you too.”

He turned, looking to where they were dashing to, squeezing the hand he held gently. And this time, when he moved again, their fingers were entwined, a solid grip, warm and comforting, that seemed to bind them. This time, as they skidded along and laughed high, Aragorn was no more a dead weight behind him. He ran by his side and squeezed his hand and still stopped, now and then, to hold and kiss the Elf and spin him around.

The end? Sounds like it, but nooo… see you in the next chapter! ^_^V 

All of us together now: that was muuuuuuuuuuuuuuushy… *sigh dreamily* what can I say? I love them. ^_^ Oh, how I love them. ^_^ I absolutely adore this couple. ^_^

But there’s something about this fic that bugs me: I can already tell you that in Lothlòrien something very important will happen between Aragorn and Legolas to further cement their relationship. But… what about Boromir?! o_O

The poor thing… I’ve many ideas, but… would it be good with you if while they’re in Lothlòrien I focused a tiny bit on his own love-life (using some fabulous matchmakers…) other than on Aragorn and Legolas…? Or you’d rather read about Aragorn and Legolas, but not about Boromir’s own feelings?

Please let me know your opinion… I can’t start writing the next chapter if I don’t decide which one of the many plots I thought I should follow…