Through The Leaves
The forests grew and the trees covered Middle-earth. Their roots crumbled the stones of the buildings of Man, and the races dwelt in harmony.
Sauron's forces were defeated, and the roots of trees swallowed their bones. The trees grew majestic, fed on the flesh of an army of darkness. And in some places, the leaves grew so thick that it might have been night.
Arwen had left Middle-earth long ago along with her father and grandmother, and the Prince had torn the pendant from Aragorn's neck and thrown it into the sea and kissed him there, and whispered to him "There is no doom for either of us here."
Aragorn shuddered then, but kissed Legolas back, ever aware of the band that hung from the chain around the elf's neck.
The Shire remained idyllic and safe, for Legolas saw no harm in the peaceful hobbits, and the forests around the Shire were always filled with light.
He ruled as King of Gondor now, but he wore a meaningless title and a meaningless crown, for the lands of Middle-earth had only one Master, and that was the Prince of Mirkwood. Legolas wanted to see him crowned, though, and so he sat on the throne and acted like a king, and the banner with the star-crowned Tree flew in Gondor once more, and it was all an act.
For when the Prince came again to Minas Tirith, accompanied by the swiftest and proudest Elves of Mirkwood, the King of Gondor knelt before him.
When Legolas moaned and panted, it was Aragorn's hands, Aragorn's mouth, Aragorn's cock that elicited such sounds, but it was always at Legolas's unspoken command.
Aragorn shuddered when Legolas would stroke his body, for always, always, always there was the cool band of gold on the Prince's gentle finger.
And Legolas would merely smile at Aragorn's response, knowing the true meaning behind it and knowing also that it was merely another weakness -- another quirk, even -- of Men, and the minutes that followed would prove that there were less unpleasant reactions that Legolas could evoke from Aragorn's body.
The prince loved the sight of mottled sunlight, filtered through the leaves, on Aragorn's naked skin.
He still wondered sometimes whether it was a trick of the Ring that made him believe he loved Legolas, or whether the feelings had simply been brought forth at last.
He wondered if it was simply fear that made him believe he loved Legolas.
But he rarely dwelt on these thoughts, for knowing the answers to these questions would never change things.
Aragorn had become calmer as the months passed, as trees grew taller and faster than the trees of ages past had.
And in some places, the leaves grew so thick that it might have been night.