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

Songs on a Starless Night
by Lostiawen

Éomer 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. Éomer 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.

Éomer 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 Éomer'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. Éomer 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 Éomer. He heard the sonorous tones echoing in his head. The reverberating notes soon became more robust, building upon each previous phrase. Éomer 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 Éomer'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.

Éomer 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 Éomer, I am sorry. I did not mean for you to get enmeshed in the weaving of our song."

Éomer 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."

Éomer 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 Éomer'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, Éomer 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 Éomer shuddered softly. The three of them clung together silently for a while.

Time passed. Aragorn eventually released Éomer 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 Éomer, 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 Éomer 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 Éomer'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 Éomer could not define, something that made him shy away.

Legolas, however, was another matter. The elf was fair beyond words, but what attracted Éomer were his defiant eyes. Eyes that challenged Éomer 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, Éomer 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.

Éomer 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. Éomer 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. Éomer was about to call out to the elf, but Aragorn stopped him. "He'll soon catch up with us," the ranger said calmly.

Éomer 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. Éomer 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, Éomer 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 Éomer 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."

Éomer 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 Éomer. Do not be distressed on his behalf. You may use one of ours."

"Many thanks, Lord Aragorn." Éomer 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, Éomer 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 Éomer could see them flex provocatively as Aragorn moved. Steely, well-rounded buttocks completed the picture.

Éomer 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 Éomer 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.

Éomer 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.

Éomer 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, Éomer 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, Éomer 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 Éomer 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. Éomer 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. Éomer 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. Éomer 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.

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

Sudden heat filled Éomer's body. Legolas moaned softly as Aragorn pressed kisses along his jaw, the sound causing Éomer 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 Éomer'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 Éomer. 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. "Éomer 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, Éomer 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 Éomer 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. Éomer 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, Éomer," Legolas' melodious voice suddenly trilled in his ear. "I wish to apologize for your unintentional participation in the glir."

Éomer 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.

Éomer 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 Éomer tried to keep himself from gaping, Legolas said, "I am sorry, Lord Éomer, 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, Éomer 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.

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

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

The oil felt unusual to Éomer. 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."

Éomer 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 Éomer'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."

Éomer 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 Éomer's blood. "Nay, Éomer. The Lady Galadriel has that honor. I am merely a warrior, so I can only invoke music of a limited purpose."

Curious, Éomer asked, "And it is?"

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

Legolas' last statement was said teasingly. Éomer 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 Éomer'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.

Éomer 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, Éomer." he said, almost shyly.

As Legolas worked on the snarls, Éomer 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. Éomer 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, Éomer 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?" Éomer asked innocently.

"N-nay," Legolas answered hesitantly, causing Éomer 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.

Éomer 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 Éomer, I need you to advance forward before I can continue my task."

Éomer 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," Éomer 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 Éomer. 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 Éomer's loose grip. He locked gazes with the horseman, challenge flaring in the azure depths. The blood in Éomer's veins surged to the surface, heating his body, and he knew that he could not stop now.

"You lie," Éomer 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 Éomer's touch.

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

Legolas tasted of honey and sweet blossoms. Éomer 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 Éomer earlier, causing him to feel as if he would burst. The elf pushed weakly against the horseman's chest, but Éomer caught the slender wrists in a firm grasp, pinning them behind the pale body. Legolas whimpered softly, setting Éomer'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 Éomer caught his mouth again, ravaging the elf's lips with the fierceness of his desire.

As they parted, Éomer 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, Éomer turned his head around, swallowing convulsively as the ranger walked into view, naked and glistening in the moonlight.

While Éomer was frozen in surprise, Legolas seized the opportunity to break out of his grip. The elf spun the larger man around and wrapped his slender limbs around Éomer's arms and chest, pinning the horseman painfully against his slight body. Éomer struggled, but the elf's lithe strength held him firmly. Ruefully, Éomer realized that Legolas had probably allowed himself to be overpowered mere moments earlier.

Pressing forward, the elf forced Éomer to walk onto the shore to join Aragorn. The ranger cupped Éomer's face with his callused hand.

Aragorn's blue eyes were cobalt as they locked onto the horseman's, drilling into his soul. Éomer felt a shudder through his body as he saw the raw hunger in their depths.

"You allow yourself to become trapped far too easily, proud Captain," the ranger said, amused at his discomfort. "But who would not, when presented with such attractive bait?"

Éomer felt a surge of anger. "The two of you staged this!" He spat.

"You are only partially right," replied Aragorn. "We both desire you, but it was my idea to let Legolas indulge himself first."

He leaned forward and kissed Legolas lightly on the lips. "And he was an excellent actor. Did you really think an elf could be so easily unsettled by your presence?" Aragorn asked, stroking Éomer's cheek. "Of course, your brain was probably muddled by the aphrodisiac scent in the soaproot rinse."

Anger colored the horseman's features, but Aragorn merely smirked at him.

"Do not be angry. My beautiful elf loves to be taken. But it is now my time, and I have many plans to sate my own cravings for you, little one." Aragorn spoke the last sentence with a low throatiness that dripped of utter sin. Éomer shivered, but he did not intend to capitulate to the ranger's whims.

"Release me!" he growled, struggling hard.

"Nay," said Aragorn. "*I* am the one who will issue orders. And you need a truth revealed to you." Still holding Éomer's face, Aragorn's eyes blazed as he turned towards the elf.

"Baulo den," he stated firmly.

"Tancave, hiramin," the elf replied.

Legolas pressed forward and began to rub his erection into the cleft of Éomer's buttocks. The horseman tried to ignore it, but the feel of Legolas' silky, hot body pressed against his was destroying his reason. He groaned softly, eyes fluttering shut as he drowned in the sensation.

Aragorn squeezed his jaw. "Look at me," he barked.

Despite himself, Éomer's eyes snapped open. Aragorn's gaze devoured the young warrior as he responded to Legolas' teasing. Éomer glared at the ranger balefully, determined to not give in easily to this contest of wills.

"Give in to your desires and surrender to me," Aragorn cooed softly, "You know you crave it."

The command buffered Éomer's resistance. "I do not desire you, *ranger*." he hissed.

"'Twill be my pleasure to prove you wrong, little one." Aragorn purred, piercing Éomer with his eyes again. The horseman tried to turn his head away, but the ranger's hand was unyielding and held him fast.

Aragorn pressed his lips to Éomer's, but the horseman immediately closed his mouth, denying him. "Open for me," Aragorn whispered huskily.

Éomer continued to refuse. His eyes darkening, Aragorn removed his lips and said to Legolas, "I think he needs some more persuasion, seldo."

"Yes, my lord," Legolas responded simply.

Aragorn lowered his mouth to Éomer's again, his tongue flickering across the the young warrior's tightly pressed lips. Simultaneously, the elf's tongue snaked out and he began to lick his way down the column of Éomer's neck. Éomer tensed, trying to ignore the tingling in his skin as the elf suckled his tender flesh. When Legolas reached the juncture of the horseman's throat, he suddenly nipped the tender skin painfully, causing the young warrior to yelp in surprise.

Aragorn immediately plunged his tongue in. He kissed like a primal force, sweeping Éomer along with the maelstrom of his need, sucking the breath out of the horseman's lungs and completely draining the Rohan warrior.

Aragorn broke the kiss with a swipe of his tongue along Éomer's lips, smiling at the horseman's dazed look. He joined Legolas in attacking Éomer's neck, pausing to lap at the juncture where the tanned skin joined the collarbone. The Rohirrim Captain felt his senses getting overwhelmed, and soft noises were spilling unbidden from his lips. His traitorous body was responding to Aragorn's manipulations, urging him to surrender to the sweet bliss, to let himself be taken.

A small voice of reason clawed within him. No. Not like this, he reminded himself.

Through a haze, Éomer forced himself to focus and regain the tattered shreds of his control.

He moaned aloud, "No, stop!"

Aragorn whispered into his neck, "See how you respond to me? You desire to lose yourself, my proud Captain. To be released from all expectations, beholden to none but the pleasure I can create." His hands reached down and traced the seam of Éomer's twitching member.

"And I will make you mine," he said silkily.

"Never!" Éomer said as strongly as he could muster, thrashing against Legolas. Aragorn attempted to capture his lips again, but he sealed his mouth tightly, and would not open it. Aragorn pulled back, his cobalt eyes burning hotly. Éomer noticed that the ranger's shaft was quite erect.

"Still you resist?" Aragorn purred. "I think you need a lesson, little one."

Aragorn walked over to the bushes and came back with the pack. Reaching in, he pulled out several lengths of soft cotton rope. Éomer struggled again, but the elf's grip held him fast. Aragorn tied the horseman's wrists and ankles together before allowing Legolas to release him. Legolas quickly picked up the frantically squirming warrior and placed his broad back against a tree, holding the muscled body still while Aragorn skillfully and swiftly bound Éomer's arms, torso, and legs to the trunk.

Aragorn stepped away from the tree and gestured to Legolas. The elf dutifully walked over to his side and waited.

Aragorn turned to Éomer and said huskily, "You cannot hide from a ranger's keen senses. I was aware of your presence as you returned from washing your clothes. Time enough for me to enact the lovely scene which greeted your eyes when you returned."

Éomer glared at him defiantly, but did not deign to answer. He tried to ignore the trill in his body at being rendered so helpless. Memories of Legolas writhing in the ranger's arms surfaced again, and he felt his sex hardening.

"Tell me, " Aragorn continued throatily, "I heard you pleasuring yourself in the bushes. Why did you not join us?"

Éomer inwardly cursed. He felt his insides withering from the ranger's intense gaze. And that voice...ripe with pure sensuality and the husk of the forbidden, was shredding his resolve.

Scrambling for something to say, he blurted out. "I did not think it would be proper."

"But forcing yourself on my elf was acceptable," Aragorn hissed, "You have an unusual idea of 'proper', little one. But I know you."

Éomer shifted uncomfortably. The ranger's blue eyes were locked with his, stripping his soul bare.

"You like to watch, don't you, little one?" the ranger purred.

"No!" Éomer denied, far too quickly, feeling himself becoming small and helpless as Aragorn uncovered his shameful longings.

"Well then, this should not arouse you in the least," the ranger replied with an evil smile.

Aragorn grabbed Legolas and kissed him fiercely on his lips, causing the elf to moan softly and melt in the ranger's arms. Éomer flushed, feeling weak inside again, feeling his groin swiftly fill with blood.

Aragorn grabbed a handful of the white-gold hair and pulled Legolas' neck back, exposing his throat. The ranger nibbled his way down the pale column, leaving little bite marks and causing the elf's breath to escape in a low hiss. Éomer groaned in frustration, feeling his shaft get even harder than he thought was possible, but he was completely unable to relieve himself. He thrashed against his bonds, attempting to twist himself to generate some sort of friction, but they were too tight and held him fast.

Aragorn spun Legolas around so that he was facing Éomer. The ranger pressed his body against Legolas' back and reached around to pinch the pink furled nubs on the pale chest until the elf whimpered softly. He ran his hands slowly down the plane of Legolas' stomach, stopping to cup the sacs underneath the elf's hard erection.

"You like watching this, don't you Éomer?" Aragorn said huskily as he rolled the tender skin beneath his fingers. Éomer felt dizzy, his heart was pounding and his erection was throbbing painfully. He was panting heavily, unable to tear his eyes away.

Legolas breathed, "Ai! Please don't tease me, my lord." The pleading words brought another groan to Éomer's lips. The horseman strained against his bonds again.

Aragorn returned to licking Legolas' neck. "Who can resist such sweet cries?" he said sensually as he slowly stroked the length of Legolas' erection, forcing a choked gasp out of the elf. Éomer felt moisture leaking out of his member, and he wrenched against his bindings again, panting heavily. His body was on fire, aching for some sort of contact.

Smiling wickedly again, Aragorn brought two of his fingers to Legolas' mouth, and the elf sucked on them greedily. Éomer moaned again, pressure building up in his groin. Aragorn pulled the wet digits out of Legolas' mouth and slowly ran them up the seam of the elf's twitching erection.

Legolas mewled, squirming frantically as the ranger stroked the satiny flesh at a tortuously languorous pace. Aragorn stopped briefly at the tip, gathering up the moisture there, and offered his fingers again. Legolas devoured them, suckling on them as if he were dying of thirst. The ranger pulled his hand out, and touched Legolas' engorged shaft, slowly tracing lazy circles over the head, causing the elf to softly cry out again.

Éomer's blood thundered in his ears as his body screamed for completion. He whimpered, "Aragorn..."

Aragorn leveled his annihilating gaze at him, "You know what you want, Éomer. Beg for it," he demanded.

"I.." Éomer began, and stopped. He would not be reduced to this.

"Beg for it," Aragorn said as he stroked Legolas again, forcing another mewl, the sound battering down the last of Éomer's resistance.

"Take me! I burn for release!" Éomer pleaded hoarsely.

Aragorn released Legolas and walked over to Éomer. He tenderly stroked the horseman's face. "That's it, little one." he said softly. He looked at Éomer's aching body. "You look ready to burst at the merest touch, and I will not have you spend yourself before I am done."

Aragorn turned to Legolas. "Linno i glir o i'erthad," he ordered. The elf nodded and began to sing.

The song now was slow, each note coming out of Legolas' lips like a tender caress. This time, Éomer could feel the music interlacing in the air around him, before closing in to seep into his flesh. As the sweet melody increased in intensity, Éomer felt a tingle through his body. Slowly, Legolas approached Éomer, still singing. He held the song on a single crystal clear note, which rang through the forest.

Legolas bent down and kissed Éomer, their lips sizzling at the contact. Suddenly, Éomer could hear the note reverberating in his ears, penetrating his every small crevice of his body, flowing into him as Legolas explored his mouth. Tendrils of a desire not his own were sliding past his tongue, twining and winding in with his burning need; as new heat suffused his body, he could taste himself as he kissed Legolas, felt the tickle of his mustache and the firmness of his lips, felt the new ardor building within him. He gasped in surprise as Legolas broke contact, the elf's azure eyes glittering.

"What did you do to me?" Éomer breathed out.

"Your passion is now linked to Legolas'. Whatever he feels, you will feel. And," Aragorn murmured silkily, "you will not find release until he does."

Éomer shuddered, feeling his own and Legolas' arousal leaping within him at the soft spoken words. Aragorn turned to Legolas and ordered, "Untie him, but keep his hands bound."

As Legolas complied, Aragorn reached into the discarded pack and pulled out a small jar of salve. He coated his fingers thoroughly with the oily substance.

"Lay him on his side, seldo," he commanded. As Legolas gently lowered Éomer's body onto the grass, the horseman was glad for the respite from his over stimulated nerves.

"Dartho si. Telo si a'levo den ir im narich na," Aragorn said. Legolas smiled slyly and backed away, leaving Aragorn to lie down behind Éomer. The ranger began to slowly work his finger into the horseman's tight entrance.

Éomer moaned loudly. He bit his lip in frustration as Aragorn slowly breeched the tight ring of muscle and stroked him slowly inside. Another finger was added, widening him easily.

Legolas knelt down in the grass beside Éomer's stomach, waiting. Aragorn positioned himself behind the horseman, and placed the head of his erection at Éomer's entrance. "Now," he said to Legolas.

As the ranger slid in, Legolas bent over and swallowed Éomer's turgid flesh in one gulp. Éomer convulsed, biting off a scream as he felt Aragorn filling him easily, the wet heat around him, and experienced the silky feel and taste of his own thickness down his throat. A fire was building within him, stoked by their joined desires.

Aragorn began thrusting inside him, and Legolas followed his lead, sucking eagerly and stroking himself slowly. Éomer felt his senses spiraling out of control. He was being filled, nerves sizzling as Aragorn hit his sensitive spot, shudders wracking his body as he was drawn into Legolas' hot mouth, the elf's hot tongue swirling along his length. Feeling his passion spiraling in with Legolas' as the clever fingers dancing along the elf's length echoed their sensation in his body, feeling the pressure build within him, but finding no release.

Too much...he thought, he thrashed in sweet agony, small whimpers and groans were escaping his lips.

"Who owns you?" Aragorn hissed in his ear.

No, Éomer thought. He could not surrender this last bit of him. As hard as it was, he tried for a last shred of defiance.

When Éomer failed to reply, Aragorn said, "Stop now, seldo." He stopped thrusting, and Legolas pulled off of Éomer, causing the horseman to whimper loudly.

"Answer me, and I'll finish you off." Aragorn said harshly. He jabbed his erection into Éomer once, causing the horseman to moan as the hard flesh slid over the small bundle of nerves deep inside. "Who owns you?" he barked again.

Éomer bit his lip, tasting blood, determined to fight the delightful jolts coursing through his body. Aragorn growled at Legolas, "Bring yourself to the brink, and keep yourself there."

Legolas nodded, and grasped his erection. Éomer cried out as he saw and felt Legolas stroking himself until the elf's body hummed on the edge of release, the frustration echoing in the horseman's body. Legolas dipped his hand in the salve and inserted his fingers into his own hot, tight entrance, stroking the heart of his pleasure. Éomer sobbed in frustration, blood was thundering in his ears, and his eyes lost focus, centering on the intense burning within him. Whimpers of need spilled from both sets of throats.

Aragorn jabbed him again, listening to his gasp. The ranger then slowly slid his shaft over Éomer's sensitive spot as he withdrew almost completely, "Who do you belong to?" he growled.

It was too much. Éomer felt himself unraveling inside, his body ached within and without in sweet madness, screaming for completion. The last vestiges of his control shattered.

"I'm yours!" he sobbed brokenly. "I'm yours, my lord!"

Éomer heard Aragorn murmur something, but he was too far gone to register the words. Abruptly, Aragorn pulled out, causing Éomer to sob in protest.

The ranger swiftly rolled Éomer onto his back. "On your knees, seldo, and put your head in his lap," he said to Legolas. The elf complied, wrapping his arms around Éomer and resting his head in the horseman's lap. Éomer could feel Legolas' denied release humming through the lithe body, keeping both of them on the edge.

Aragorn grabbed Legolas' hips and tilted them upward before plunging in with one stroke. Elf and man gasped aloud at the sudden penetration, but Legolas was well prepared and hissed in pleasure as the ranger slid in. Aragorn immediately began slamming into the slender body, filling Legolas' needy flesh, forcing small groans to pour from the elf's lips.

"Take him in your mouth," Aragorn grunted. Éomer screamed as Legolas readily complied, lights exploded behind the horseman's eyes as he felt himself delving into the wet heat of the elf's mouth, felt his length entering Legolas' throat again, felt Aragorn pounding into Legolas, his strokes hitting the sensitive cluster of nerves. Éomer's hips jerked upward, trying to push more of himself into the moist depths, keening as the elf took him deeper into his throat.

Éomer felt his coherency dissolving, each sensation from Legolas melting into his own until they were indistinguishable. He was being devoured and he could taste himself, could feel the silkiness of his shaft in the back of his throat, could feel the hot moistness of Legolas' tongue swirling and dancing along his erection, could feel Legolas' cries of passion vibrating through the engorged flesh, could feel each thrust from Aragorn in the deepest recesses of his body, each nerve singing as he was repeatedly filled.

Aragorn reached beneath him and grabbed Legolas' weeping erection in his hand, stroking it to match his own swift pace. Legolas shrieked around Éomer's tortured flesh, and Éomer's vision was robbed from him as their linked desires swirled in, dissolving and melting together before exploding outward violently, tearing apart and shattering their souls as they both climaxed, the two of them screaming until they were hoarse.

Éomer felt the blood drain out of his head and he was vaguely aware of Aragorn's loud roar. His sight began to fade as he saw the ranger's body shuddering, filling Legolas with his seed. A curtain of darkness descended over Éomer's vision as everything faded to black.

He drifted briefly in the velvety nothingness, and he then felt his senses gradually returning to him. A soft touch ghosted across his forehead, gently prodding him awake. Éomer's eyelids fluttered open, and he blearily took in his surroundings. He had been untied, and Legolas and Aragorn were cuddled on either side of him, stroking his face and looking concerned.

"Are you all right, Éomer?" Aragorn whispered.

"Aye," he said weakly. He tried to lift his head and failed. "But I am completely incapable of movement right now."

Aragorn chuckled. "You were unconscious for a few minutes. I am impressed with your stamina, most other men would still be swooning after your experience."

Aragorn kissed Éomer lightly on the lips before leaning over to tenderly claim Legolas' mouth. The two of them parted with a sigh. Legolas then pressed his lips softly to Éomer's for a sweet kiss.

Éomer reached for Aragorn's hand and pressed it to his mouth. "My lord," he breathed reverently.

Aragorn stroked Éomer's hair gently. "Little one, I look forward to having you. I saw the potential in your eyes when we first met in the Riddermark. But," Aragorn paused, his eyes glinting, "do not lose that lovely fire of defiance. Your rebelliousness is what makes me burn for you."

Éomer smiled weakly and touched his cheek to Aragorn's hand.

Aragorn brushed a heavy lock of golden hair away from Éomer's sweat-plastered face. "You need another bath, melme," he said quietly.

Without further ado, Aragorn scooped Éomer up in his arms and walked back into the creek. Legolas tarried a bit before joining them. The elf and the ranger swiftly cleaned off Éomer before attending to themselves.

Aragorn tenderly carried Éomer back to their resting spot, with Legolas following shortly behind them. The ranger gently lowered Éomer onto the elven cloak that Legolas had thoughtfully spread on the ground beforehand.

The elf retrieved a cloth out of his pack, and swiftly dried Aragorn and Éomer off. When he was done, Éomer gratefully stretched his limbs, yawning and feeling his eyelids getting very heavy.

Aragorn lay down next to Éomer and pulled the horseman's head to his chest. "I am quite weary," the ranger murmured. "I barely have the strength to keep my eyes open." Éomer yawned again in agreement.

"I cannot imagine why, Aragorn. Have you been overly exerting yourself for the past few days?" Legolas said playfully.

"I would punish you for your overly merry tongue, Legolas, but that requires more energy than my limbs are capable of at the moment." Aragorn replied tiredly.

"Aye, I cannot move at all," the horseman said sleepily, "but either my sister, my uncle, or my men will come looking for us eventually, and it would be quite awkward if they found us in this state." The two men chuckled and the elf smirked at Éomer's statement.

"Sleep, then," Legolas suggested gently. "I will keep watch for anyone approaching and wake you quickly if need be."

Aragorn murmured, "Thank you, a'maelamin."

Legolas leaned over and kissed Aragorn softly on the lips. He kissed Éomer tenderly and whispered, "I look forward to singing many more songs for you, melethron."

"And I look forward to listening to your beautiful voice again, Legolas," Éomer sighed. Legolas draped Aragorn's cloak over the two of them and Aragorn wrapped his large arms around Éomer, holding his body close.

"Sleep well, melethron, a'maelamin," Legolas said lovingly. He began to sing again, the melody soothing and relaxing.

Éomer sighed, melting into Aragorn's embrace. The notes of Legolas' soft, lilting song drifted through the air, lulling the two men into a deep and peaceful sleep under the starless sky.

Elven Melodies II

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