Beware Smiling Elves

Title: Beware Smiling Elves 
Author: Poncing Ponies 
http://www.ravenswing.com/~boots/warn.htm 
Category: Romance, Multiple Partners, Interspecies 
Characters: Legolas, Boromir, Aragorn, Sam, Merry, 
Pippin, Gandalf, Frodo Pairing: Legolas/everyone, 
Legolas/Aragorn 
Warnings: kinky/squicky pairings(?). Slut!Legolas. 
Open ended ending 
Rating: R 
Summary: Aragorn tries to break a fight, fails. He 
tries to protect Hobbit innocence, fails. Seeks 
guidance with Gandalf, fails… Aragorn has issues with 
Legolas 
Disclaimer: Not mine, JRRT’s. 
Feedback: Yes please! Good or bad. On or off. Top and 
bottom. obi_wan_kenobi69@hotmail.com 
Story Notes: This is a really quick, late night, knock 
together job. Don’t like ending bit, but too tired to 
fix. So there. Also characterisation-wise, am tactless 
denying Arwen, all of her.

 

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Aragon only meant to go and break up the fight, for 
there was a great deal of Boromir grunting and Legolas 
moaning coming through the walls. And he recalled 
clearly at the meeting of the Council how Legolas had 
jumped to his aid, revealing his identity to Boromir. 
Vividly, Aragon remembered the looks the elf of 
Mirkwood traded with the man of Gondor, long wary 
glances, full of silent threat. But now, Aragon was 
forced to revise his observations, for the lamplight 
threw shadows out the windows, and these were too 
tangled and rhythmic to be a fist fight. Aragon stood 
in the gardens a long time, until the rain of leaves 
and dew chilled him and at last Aragon smiled to 
himself, shaking his head and went back to bed. 

He marvelled the next day, as the newly forged 
fellowship packed and went on its way, that had he not 
been an unwitting witness last night, he’d never 
thought Legolas and Boromir were lovers. They hardly 
spoke to each other, and there was a decided lack of 
soft eyes and glowing faces. So Aragon presumed them 
subtle and rather overly discreet, for he would not be 
opposed to such bonding, so long as they did not 
disturb the innocent Hobbits. 

Imagine Aragon’s shock, when that afternoon, after a 
quick lunch (which the Hobbits insisted only qualified 
as a snack) he went to the stream to fill his water 
sack and saw Legolas with one of them. Sam was washing 
dishes with head bowed and Legolas appeared at the 
edge of the forest sans his cloak. Studiously Sam 
ignored him as Legolas unbuttoned his green jacket and 
blue waistcoat and slipped his green silk undershirt 
over his head. Though the poor Hobbit dropped his 
frying pan with a clatter when Legolas peeled off his 
leggings, turning his ass toward Sam, he dived into 
the water and had a cold but refreshing scrub. 

As Legolas waded out of the river again, water 
dripping down his naked body ceaselessly from his long 
hair, Aragon heard Legolas say to Sam: “I heard what 
you spoke to your friends, do you still think now, 
friend-Hobbit, that I am ‘a beautiful elf girl in 
disguise, for a man cannot have hair and figure like 
that, Mr Frodo, it isn’t possible.’” 

Sam stuttered, eyes fixed at Legolas’ groin. Legolas 
knelt down on one knee, in the muddy banks, and 
brought luscious lips down to kiss the astonished 
Hobbit on the mouth. “What a challenge to let drift on 
the winds and reach my ears and now, I will be quite 
forlorn, Sam who art beautiful too, if you do not let 
me prove myself.” 

What Sam said, with head bowed and eyes blinking, 
Legolas could not make out, but soon the Hobbit took 
Legolas’ hand and went away. Dishes and clothes cast 
behind. 

What could this mean? Aragon pondered as their journey 
begun anew, watching Legolas walk ahead of him, 
impeccably dressed, hair braided proper and dry. Sam 
was leading Bill and all his attention was with Frodo. 
Once or twice, Legolas dropped back to tell Sam to 
watch out for difficult patches of ground where Bill 
might catch stones in his hooves, but no more. They 
were friendly and courteous with each other, even if 
Sam did flush red, it was no more than usual in the 
presence of one of his much admired Elves. 

If Aragorn were not brought up in an Elven House, 
under the care of Elrond and his kin, with Elves for 
friends and family, he’d have brought those ale house 
tales about the appetites of the fair kind. It is not 
a hobby among the High Folk to bed their travelling 
companions, they were usually cool in matters of the 
heart and more passionate about the beauty of nature 
and landscape than fleshly muscles or curves. And when 
they were moved to have desires, it was more oft than 
not, by a deep abiding love. 

Still Aragorn maintained to himself, there was some 
complicated affair here, beyond his knowledge, a love 
triangle, even with these unlikely players. His hopes 
were dashed however, when he sought Legolas out at the 
setting of the moon to relieve him of his watch, so 
that the Elf might have a chance to sing at the 
morning star a little and obtain his daily solace from 
the wilderness as the fair ones liked to do. But out 
of Legolas’ cloak, Gimli poked out his head, helmet-
less. Seeming rather caught out, the proud dwarf gave 
an embarrassed chuckle as he climbed down Legolas’ lap 
and greeted Aragorn. Aragorn studied Legolas’ face, 
but could discern no expression in the smooth, perfect 
symmetry. Aragorn was about to speak and question, 
when with a soft sigh, Gimli turned back and seized 
Legolas by the shoulders, pressing a smacking kiss on 
the Elf’s chin and caressed his cheek in adoring 
farewell. Gimli humph-ed when he passed Legolas, 
giving the Ranger a scrutinising look through the 
furious bush of his brows, as if daring him to 
comment. Aragorn could only stand, dumb and feeling 
out of place, and oddly, as if he’d been caught 
prying, so much so, that he mutely allowed Legolas 
disappear into the woods and soon the green leaves 
swayed to the charming baritone of Legolas’ voice. 

Merry suffered a fright from the black birds Saluron 
sent. And Legolas went up to the Hobbit and took out 
his bow and arrows, letting Merry, wide eyed and mouth 
agape, touch the exquisite bow, flick the bowstring to 
hear it sing and finally hold the weapon in his hands 
and feel the heavy weight. With a smile, Legolas leant 
down and told Merry in an assuring tone: “Don’t be 
afraid, if they tried to harm you, I’ll thread them 
ten to an arrow, already skewered for you to cook, you 
know I can do it, and I will.” By second breakfast, 
Merry and Pippin were giggling together and throwing 
hot looks at Legolas’ back. Aragorn thought with 
frustration that this game must end. He told himself 
that this was a sure way to ruin the fellowship, 
except, despite Legolas’ dancing from one bedroll to 
another, everyone seemed to be close and comfortable 
with one another. 

Aragorn smoked a thoughtful pipe with Gandalf as he 
pondered his own growing anger. He meant to ask the 
Wizard for guidance, but could not force the words out 
of his mouth. For here was one of the Wise and Aragorn 
feared Gandalf might know him too well and ask why he 
was so concerned over Legolas’ private affair in the 
first instance, because Aragorn did not know himself 
and was disturbed by this sudden unclarity in his 
mind. He was glad of the decision as Gandalf patted 
him on the shoulder when Legolas came smiling 
tentatively with fingers interlaced as if nervous. 

“The boy needs council,” Gandalf said as they moved 
out of sight. 

Aragorn hit the mossy ground with a clenched fist, 
feeling inexplicably aggravated. He wanted, keenly, to 
tell Gandalf not to call Legolas a boy, for the Elf 
must be the oldest among them, and Gandalf said it 
with such maddening fondness. 

Pippin froze badly when the lightening struck and snow 
avalanched upon the fellowship. And who of the nine of 
them was least effected by the weather and kept the 
warmest under his clothes but Legolas. So Aragorn was 
forced to see the Elf holding Pippin’s hands in his 
palms and putting the Hobbit’s blue fingers beneath 
the layers he wore, baking the appendages upon his 
stomach. Pippin sighed with relief and snuggled up 
against the Elf, muttering so gratefully, that Legolas 
laughed and jiggled him and carried him around like a 
doll for the day. . . and through the night. 

In the morning, Aragorn got up to empty his bladder 
and tripped over Legolas, who slept (eyes open but far 
away) with Merry and Pippin cuddling each other in the 
embrace of the archer’s long arms. With barely 
restrained foul temper, Aragorn went to see who was 
keeping watch and saw the sorry picture of Frodo 
sitting alone on an icy rock, looking at the chain and 
ring in his hand with a frown on his face. 

“Good Morrow, Strider,” Frodo called him in his quiet, 
sweet voice, pocketing the ring. 

“Did you stay up all night, Frodo?” Aragorn sat down 
next to the Ringbearer. 

“As much as you did, Strider,” the way Frodo called 
him by his nickname brought a smile to Aragorn’s lips. 
He was glad at this perceptive choice, for with the 
name Aragorn, he was reminded constantly of abandoned 
thrones and betrothal promises, both of which seemed 
unattainable from here. 

Just as Aragorn was about to say something about 
keeping alert on their way to Moria, Frodo said with a 
becoming blush: “You were watching Pippin and Merry 
and Legolas.” 

Aragorn felt blood rush to his own face. He fingered 
the loose sewing on the hem of his sleeve. “Well, 
I . . .” 

“I’ve lain with him, tasted him, too, you know,” Frodo 
said, squirming when Aragorn’s eyes flashed. 

“I’m sorry, it’s none of my business,” Aragorn 
placated Frodo with a calming gesture of his hand, he 
tried not to forget his size and frighten gentle 
Frodo, but it was hard when Legolas was 
mentioned. “I’ve let this gnawn at me like a poison in 
the marrows. I guess, I just don’t understand it.” 

“Do you think he is being faithless beyond measure? By 
sharing himself with all his friends?” said Frodo, 
blue eyes full of innocent curiosity. “What do you 
think urges him, to seek comfort as if he were 
starved, but a real hunger?” 

“When did you get so cryptic Frodo,” Aragorn tilted 
his head hopelessly. “I don’t’ get your meaning, 
though I think I begin to glimpse it.” 

At that moment, Gandalf walked up to them and Frodo 
left his lonely perch and got wrapped up in his cloak 
to go to breakfast, as they went, Gandalf said over 
his shoulder: “Legolas is in love with you, fool.”   

With a shock, Aragorn realised he could find no 
immediate words to dispute the claim. And hours later, 
in the white light shining from the door to Moria, the 
Ranger watched Legolas’ serious face as the Archer 
kept good watch over the waters for Orcs and the 
mysterious things Elves knew dwelt in the deep. 
Aragorn admitted finally that Legolas bestowed himself 
on all the fellowship but shied from him. Legolas 
fought with him and honoured him with his pledge of 
allegiance. And so perhaps, Legolas was in love with 
him. Maybe it was a yearning for Aragorn that woke 
desire in Legolas’ opal heart. And should Legolas 
continue to never touch him, it would be an unusual 
declaration of love. And should Legolas touch him, at 
last, Aragorn would rejoice.  Suddenly grinning, 
Aragorn gave Legolas a curt nod. Legolas saw, and 
startled, he turned back to the water, but at the 
corner of the proud lips that never gave hint of 
desire to Aragorn before, there was a pleased smile. 

The End 

Elves
Men
Hobbits