West of the Moon
A Tolkien Fanfiction Archive
Legolas finds peace in the woods of Lothlorien, and is particularly entranced by one mallorn in particular. However, as this particular evening goes on, he finds himself the not-so-reluctant audience of a certain two members of the fellowship...
A/N: This fic I dedicate to my best friend, and co-webmistress of our website "Riddles in the Dark", Asphodel Brandy-Took. She did double duty with this fic, acting as first reader and beta. She helped me with dratted Legolas, as I can never seem to get him right...
Legolas often walked alone at night, under the golden boughs in Lothlorien. The other members of the Fellowship all had their own theories as to where the elven prince went on his nocturnal ventures, from Pippin's stubborn belief that Legolas had a secret love interest to Aragorn's idea that the elf was simply working out his own grief for Gandalf's fall.
To tell the truth, Legolas wandered because of the pure joy the forest gave him. At times he would wander far without realizing it; more than once he found himself some place without any recollection of how he got there. Gimli teased him about it, saying that he would not be surprised if one day Legolas stumbled out of his day dreaming to find himself at the foot of Mount Doom itself. Aragorn had failed to see the humor in that and had reprimanded the dwarf sharply before also reminding Legolas to use sense while walking alone. There may still be orcs along the borders.
Aragorn repeated this again one evening as the elf stated that he was setting out again. Legolas took with him one of his short white-handled knives to reassure the Ranger, but after only about an hour of walking Legolas found himself lost in a dream and walking strange paths. Suddenly he halted, startled out of his reverie. He looked around carefully but could find no enemies, nothing that had made a sound. Before him was a mighty tree, its branches brushing the star-filled sky; its leaves chattering in the breeze. All around it other trees stood, but none rivaled this mallorn. It loomed proudly above its kindred.
For a while Legolas stood motionless, gazing up at the tree. It was a beautiful thing, ancient and strong. The elf felt a surge of delight spread through him; he loved it instantly and with an enthralled smile he sidled over to it and ran his fingertips over the smooth silver bark.
"I am blessed, this night," the elf whispered, his eyes peering up at the tiny pinpoints at silver that peeked out between the golden leaves. "The Lady has done her work well."
The branches rustled and Legolas laughed softly. "Very well then. I shall come up and we shall watch Elbereth work together, my friend."
With an easy jump the elf caught hold of one of the lower branches. Up Legolas went, throwing one leg over the thick branch and swinging himself over so that he perched like a great golden-haired bird. Not so much as a twig stirred as he settled himself comfortably. The woods were still. Legolas gazed up at the stars and was for once completely and utterly at peace.
For approximately fifteen minutes.
Then there came from the distance a whisper. Not the whisper of the wind nor the call of a bird, but a spoken whisper. A familiar voice whispering "this way."
Legolas' ears perked up. He caught the sound of light laughter, then "...sure, sir?" It was Sam, then. Sam and Frodo. No danger then. Legolas relaxed and rested his head back against the tree branch. It was so pleasant there. Otherworldly, really. Almost as if Lothlorien had not changed since the beginning of the world...
"...love it; its truly spectacular..."
The voices were closer now, no doubt about it. Legolas frowned slightly. He was not in the mood for conversation. Had they come looking for him?
"You must see it at night. Remember the stories of Valinor, Sam?"
"Aye, sir. Amazing stories they were..."
No, it did not appear that it was Legolas they were looking for. The soft pad of their feet could be heard now; they were quite close.
"....the two trees?"
With a sigh Legolas turned over onto his belly, wrapping his arms around the tree branch. He had been so comfortable, but if the hobbits were this far into the woods he should stay alert and make sure no intruders were nearby. But the starlight and the feel of sturdy living wood beneath him.....his mind began to drift again into distant memories.....
"I believe...yes, right through here."
Legolas shook himself awake just as Frodo and Sam walked out from the grove of trees. Frodo was leading Sam by the hand; their fingers were tightly entwined. Sam looked a bit unsure, but his face changed as his gaze rested upon the great mallorn tree.
"Oh," he said. Then again, "oh!"
Frodo watched him with a warm smile on his face. The Ringbearer looked more alive than he had since Gandalf had fallen. "It is astounding, isn't it, Sam?"
The gardener could only nod his head. It struck Legolas then that Sam was looking right at him, but because of the thick leaves and the way the shadows played on the branches Sam could not see him. Realizing that, the elf opened his mouth to call out to the two hobbits, but something stopped him. Perhaps it was a fear of startling his small companions. Perhaps it was the fact that Sam had slipped his arm around his master's waist and that Frodo was resting his head on Sam's shoulder.
"I wandered out here several days ago," Frodo was saying. "I sat just at the bottom of that tree and I thought. I thought for quite a while."
"What about, Frodo?" Sam said. It was the first time that Legolas had heard him leave off the 'Mr.'
"About many things, love. About a great many things." Frodo sighed. "I've no idea why," he continued. "But for some reason, as I sat there I wasn't afraid any longer. I felt as if Gandalf was still with me....somehow...."
He trailed off, then with another sigh he pulled Sam to him in a tight embrace. Legolas felt like an intruder suddenly. He thought again that he should speak, but still his mouth remained shut. He dared not move and spoil this rare moment of peace for Frodo.
"I should not brood," Frodo muttered. "I do not know how long it will last, dear Sam, but for now I have hope. I have you."
"Aye," Sam whispered into Frodo's hair. "And you'll have me whether there's hope or no."
They stood silently for a few moments, locked in each others arms. Legolas waited. Surely now they would turn and go back to the others, having been reassured by the serenity of the place. But they did not. They remained where they were and as Legolas watched, Frodo turned his head ever so slightly and pressed his lips softly to Sam's neck. Sam let out a small breath; Legolas froze. Frodo kissed Sam again, this time parting his lips slightly and suckling gently.
"You are my hope, Sam," Frodo whispered against Sam's skin. Legolas averted his eyes, knowing that what he was seeing was private and most certainly not intended for some eavesdropping elf in a tree to bear witness to.
However, elvish ears are not easily turned off to the sounds around them. Both Sam and Frodo's breathing had sped up and Legolas soon found that hearing and not seeing was even more uncomfortable than simply looking was. After a minute of quiet noises the elf gave up and let his eyes drift back to the couple below.
Sam was clinging to Frodo desperately, his eyes closed and his mouth open with hitching breaths. The Ringbearer's mouth was still on Sam's throat, moving lazily from one side to the other.
"Oh, me love," Sam managed, earning a smile from Frodo, who planted a last lingering kiss on the side of his lover's neck and then lifted his head to brush Sam's lips with his own.
"Meleth," Frodo said, his voice low, warm, and inviting. Sam allowed his eyes to flutter open and rested his forehead against his master's.
"Meleth," Frodo said again, then he paused to kiss Sam's willing lips again. This was no chaste kiss between friends, Legolas knew, as Sam's arms settled low on Frodo's back and as Frodo leaned his entire body into Sam's embrace.
The elf pursed his lips and tapped his finger noiselessly against the tree branch. This predicament was rather tricky. Legolas felt that he should slip away somehow, but how could he manage that without the hobbits seeing? More than that, the elf found the two of them fascinating, the way they melded together, the way their physical differences seemed to complement each other, the soft sounds that escaped from them with each caress. They were so unlike his own people; the halflings were young and full of innocence, full of wonder at the touch of their lovers' fingers. Despite what Legolas' senses of propriety and courtesy were telling him he could not take his eyes off of the almost fey like Ringbearer and the sturdy, faithful gardener.
Frodo had led Sam further under the bough of the great tree. Sam's shirt had become partially unbuttoned at some point. His chest gleamed golden in the starlight. Frodo's white hand slid over the exposed flesh then disappeared into the worn fabric as it slipped around to the small of Sam's back. The gardener gasped and buried his face in the curve of Frodo's neck. The Ringbearer gave a short, pleased laugh and then the two of them collapsed into the grass.
Sam, who had landed on the bottom, let out a surprised cry as Frodo sprawled ungracefully over Sam's chest. Frodo blinked, dazed for a moment, and before breaking out into amused giggles. At that Sam drew in a sharp breath and raised his hands to cup Frodo's face.
"Oh, but to hear you laugh...."whispered the gardener. "To hear you laugh Frodo....makes me not ever want to move from beneath this here tree."
"Sam," Frodo began, the stopped and caressed the back of Sam's hands. "Sam, you are trembling...."
"I have not felt you shiver like this since..." Frodo trailed off, and his hands trailed off too, down Sam's arms, over his shoulders, and onto his chest. There they stayed, until Sam took a deep breath and pulled his master down to kiss his lips, chin, and throat.
"Well," said Sam between lingering kisses. "Like you said, me dear...awful peaceful here. Like there ain't nothin' in the entire world save for you and me and them stars."
Legolas wet his own lips and recoiled slightly. The two hobbits were now in a position where they could easily catch sight of him, should they look up. The situation was growing more and more dangerous, but the elf could still not look away. He was spellbound. What was it about this place, this tree?
"Lets make this ours, melleth. A place all our own," Frodo said, his fingers loosing the rest of Sam's shirt buttons and beginning on his own. Legolas felt his own breath quicken as the garments were slipped off and tossed aside onto the grass, forgotten for the moment. He heard a soft exclamation in the darkness, Sam's, at the very subtle twinkle of the mithril coat that adorned Frodo's body. The Ringbearer moved to pull the precious armour over his head, but Sam shook his head quickly.
"Don't take it off, Mr. Frodo." Legolas could easily see the look of distaste Frodo shot his lover at the title, but Sam persisted. "If you got hurt on account of-"
"Oh, bother it, Sam!" Frodo exclaimed, but there was fondness in his voice. "If it hinders me from touching you for one more moment then I shall go mad. Listen to the woods. They are peaceful; we are safe enough at present."
Legolas instantly became more alert. Frodo was right; the woods seemed safe and the power of Galadriel was nothing to be scoffed at, but leaving himself unprotected seemed unwise of the Ringbearer. Unwise, but understandable, Legolas thought to himself; he let his fingers brush the handle of his knife and smiled.
*Don't worry, little ones. You shall be interrupted by no evil this night.*
Though the elf's vow was said silently, Frodo lifted his head up towards the heavens and drew a deep breath. For one mortifying moment Legolas thought he had been spotted, but a second later Frodo moved his gaze to Sam's face, tracing the line of the gardener's jaw and throat with his eyes.
"Please, Sam." Frodo's voice melted into the slight breeze that ruffled the mallorn's leaves. "Just one night.....I need to feel you in my arms, with nothing in between us." He leaned forward, and Legolas had to crane his neck to see the hobbit laid a slow, wet kiss beneath Sam's ear. "Nothing."
With that the ringbearer pulled back just enough to grasp the bottom of the supple chain mail. The tinkling of the links sang in Legolas' ears as the mithril vest that had saved Frodo's life was pulled over Frodo's head and laid carefully to the side. There was a sharp glint in the starlight; Legolas realized with a start that it was the Ring, swinging down to lay heavily against Frodo's chest. It seemed to burn with a foul light to the elf's eyes, a dark light that gaped like a wound in the brilliance of the hobbits' obvious love. Frodo shifted back further, as if he were afraid the Ring would brush against his Sam. The younger hobbit drew in a sharp breath of protest and reached out for Frodo's hand, but the ringbearer halted him with a swift gesture.
For the span of two heartbeats Frodo hesitated, his hand still in midair. Legolas remained fixated, a prickling of unease creeping up his back. The breeze picked up again, building speed until it blew through the mallorn branches like a wave. Frodo closed his eyes. His mouth fell open with a gasp as the wind blew his dark curls back from his face. His raised hand moved to grasp the silvery chain that the Ring hung on; the other sought out and clasped Sam's hand tightly. Then Frodo pulled the Ring over his head and laid it on top of the mithril vest.
"Oh!" Sam exclaimed softly, before his mouth was claimed hungrily by Frodo.
Legolas remained frozen. The wind died down. The Ring still glinted angrily in the starlight. Legolas could feel his pulse in his throat; it seemed to keep in time with the strange new voice that whispered in his mind "Take me, take me, take me, take me...."
The elf stared, unable to take his eyes off of the small band of gold. He knew that its harmless appearance was the ultimate deception. He knew that it could destroy all that was good and beautiful, all that he knew and cared about. He knew that the greatest lords and ladies dared not to use it for fear of its power. He knew it, and yet.....
*Take me....take me....take me...*
Legolas jolted, his keen eyes darting back to the couple below the tree. How long had he been lost in the Ring's spell? Both hobbits were now completely nude; their clothing lay in a haphazard heap several feet away from them. Sam had his back to the trunk of the tree. Frodo was sitting straddle-legged on Sam's lap, and one of Sam's arms was twined about Frodo's hips, holding him close. Sam's other hand was still holding Frodo's, and as Legolas watched Sam bent his head to Frodo's wrist and began to kiss and tongue it. Frodo's face was now partially obstructed by the position of the branches, but Legolas could hear his panting breaths, and see Frodo's free hand working between his and his lover's bodies.
Legolas turned his eyes upward to gaze at the stars. A deep compassion for his two small companions had bubbled up inside him, and it grew stronger with every gasp, every plea, and every whispered word of love that reached his ears. That they could find such strength in one another, that their love for each other could cause the earth beneath them to sing like it did, that the sight of their nude and gleaming bodies could make the Ring's cold beauty seem like the evil deception that it was was awe inspiring. Legolas found himself caught up with the two of them, swaying ever so slightly on his branch as they moved against each other, back and forth, back and forth.
Sam suddenly gasped, "Frodo!" and Frodo answered him by kissing him fiercely and pressing him against the tree trunk. Sam's arm that had been around Frodo's hips was now moving possessively over his lover's body as they kissed, stroking from shoulders, to waist, to thigh and back again. Frodo moved his hand from between him and Sam to around Sam's back , where Legolas could no longer see exactly what it did. It must have been something, however, because Sam whimpered Frodo's name and clung to his master for dear life.
"Shhh, Sam-love......I love you so..." Frodo whispered before planting another, softer kiss on Sam's lips.
"Frodo....me dear...." Sam breathed into Frodo's hair. Legolas pried his eyes away and looked in the opposite direction. He had been an intruder thus far; he would not watch the climax of their love. The stars burned brightly in his eyes, and it seemed that he could hear the song of the Valar in the final cries of his two young companions.
Pippin sang cheerfully at breakfast the next morning, effectively annoying his sleepy Brandybuck cousin. Frodo watched the young Took with a fond smile, but his eyes kept drifting over to a certain gardener who was looking rather sleepy himself. Only Legolas noticed the meaning behind the exchanged looks...
"I always said that you elves were far too dainty for all this sun. You burn more easily than a woman!"
Legolas decided not to respond to Gimli's gruff teasing. After all, it would hardly do to explain to the dwarf exactly *why* he was blushing.
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