Elvish dictionary :
a'maelamin—beloved
melme—lovely one
glir—song

Lilting Distractions
by Lostiawen

Éomer breathed a sigh of relief as he saw the dark outline of Edoras against the night sky. He had been able to spend only one more delicious night with Aragorn and Legolas before King Théoden decreed that the refugees at Helm's Deep needed to return to their homes.

The week-long journey had been taxing on him, as free time to spend with Aragorn and Legolas was scarce. Although some of his ancestors had a history of taking male lovers, and it was generally understood that it was not uncommon for warriors to form bonds closer than mere friendship, he doubted that the specific nature of his relationship with the two of them would be met well by anyone, especially King Théoden. As a consequence, they had tried to remain incredibly discrete, which was not an easy task on the open plains.

Because of the depletion of their soldiers, every able-bodied fighter was required to sit on multiple watches and extra long guard duty for the caravan of refugees. This left only a few occasions upon which Éomer could steal away with Aragorn and Legolas; but he took them when he could, sacrificing his sleep, instead. He guessed that over the past week, he had only received a handful of hours of rest. He hoped that his helmet hid the hollowness in his eyes as he examined the slowly advancing column of people ahead of him.

He grinned as he remembered the hasty, fevered encounters during the past week. Aragorn had been most innovative considering that the landscape provided very little cover. However, with the ever-present threat of danger from straggling orc patrols, they only had time to please each other with their mouths and hands. Éomer felt a deep ache inside, and he again suppressed the urge to break away from his position near the rear of the caravan to find his two lovers.

He gritted his teeth. He wanted to experience Aragorn's length within him, wanted to bury himself in Legolas' tight heat and lose himself in the lithe body.

Images of their first night flickered through his mind, causing blood to pool in his groin. He had never shared anything quite as intimate as having Legolas' passion linked with his, and he burned for more.

His fantasies were interrupted when he saw Éowyn riding toward him. He carefully cleared his mind and schooled his features as she drew close.

"Brother, you are far too weary. Let me help supervise the resettling, whilst you get some rest. Our king has called for a war conference early tomorrow morn, and your mind should be clear for it."

Éomer smiled at her. "My thanks, sister. Please insure that no one disturbs me tonight."

She nodded and added, "Have you see Lord Aragorn today?"

"Nay, Éowyn," he replied. He noticed the flicker of disappointment in her eyes and was amused. It was ironic that his own sister was attracted to the same man he was now bedding.

She sighed dejectedly. "I had hoped to speak with him today, but he has not had the time to spare since Helm's Deep."

Éomer replied, "The war weighs heavily on him. Do not trouble yourself."

"Wish him well if you see him before I do, then. And bring him word of the conference. Our king requires his presence and that of his companions," she said as she rode off.

Éomer waved after her, frowning as she faded from sight. He regretted that he could not tell her that Aragorn was spoken for, but that would lead to untoward questions and possible revelations about the intimate details of their relationship.

He felt uncomfortable with this deception, as he had always shared everything with his sister. They had become the closest of siblings after their parents died, and she already knew of his proclivity towards men.

He was still pondering his decision as he rode past Edoras' gates. He guided Firefoot into the stables, and his heart lightened when he spied Aragorn inside, currying Brego. The young warrior immediately felt an eager pulse in his groin, but he kept his expression calm.

"Aragorn," he stated nonchalantly, "Théoden King requires your presence early tomorrow to discuss our future battle plans."

"I thank you, Éomer," Aragorn replied. Éomer tried to repress a shiver at the sound of his soft, sensual voice.

"It has been a long day, and I am sure that you are weary. Would you grant me the honor of escorting you to your quarters?" Éomer continued.

Aragorn looked with practiced neutrality at him, "Your offer is most appreciated. I still have yet to familiarize myself with the layout of your castle." As he spoke, Éomer caught the very subtle hint of amusement behind his words.

Éomer nodded, and although he was tempted to tear his armor and clothes off and tumble amongst the horses at that moment with Aragorn, he sorely realized that he would still have to wait.

"Should we not wait for Legolas and Gimli?" he asked casually.

"Nay, they are helping Lady Éowyn, and I'm sure that she will be able to escort them afterward to their lodgings."

Éomer nodded. During the journey, he had managed to slyly ask his sister about the assignation of rooms for their guests, and she had helpfully informed him as to which ones had been designated.

"Come," Éomer said to Aragorn, gesturing. "The servants have arrived ahead of us and have prepared the Golden Hall for our return."

Aragorn followed his lead as he walked across the courtyard into Meduseld, their way illuminated by torchlight. Éomer felt joy in his heart as he walked the familiar paths of his home, paths that were denied to him during his exile; the mundane sound of his boots ringing against the stone now transformed in his mind into the sweetest of songs. He chatted amiably with Aragorn, continuing to maintain his nonchalant attitude even though he ached inside.

He stopped briefly outside of the door to his bedchamber. "Pray wait a moment, whilst I divest myself of this armor in my quarters," he said.

Aragorn nodded. Éomer led him inside, closing the door behind them. He was tempted to bolt his door and kiss Aragorn senseless, but the trio had agreed during the trek back that they would use Aragorn's chambers, since he had been given a room that was fairly far away from most of the Golden Hall's traffic.

As Éomer removed the heavy plates of metal and chain, Aragorn gazed around. Éomer saw him studying his room intently, taking in every aspect: the tapestries that adorned the walls, the fur rugs covering the floors, and the handcrafted furnishings.

Aragorn ran his hand over the grain of the low table, admiring the workmanship. It stood a little below knee height, and a few maps and scrolls that Éomer had been examining before his exile lay unrolled on top of it. Thick legs carved in the idealized shape of a horse's head supported a heavy slab that had been fashioned from several different types of decorative wood and beautifully stained. Elaborate scrollwork was rendered along the sides in gold filigree, the graceful curves coiling and twining around several horse motifs.

"This is beautiful," Aragorn said, praise filling his voice.

Éomer grinned, "My thanks. Our people pride ourselves on crafting objects which have both form and function. Everything we make is both pleasing to the eye and able to weather any form of stress or trial."

Aragorn's eyes glinted at his words, and Éomer quickly killed the speculation in his mind, lest he become too erect to walk outside.

He finished removing the last piece of his armor. "The guest area is this way," he said casually as he opened his door.

They walked down several hallways before they came to Aragorn's quarters. Éomer opened the door and said, "And this is where you will be staying." He locked gazes with Aragorn, an unspoken question in their depths.

Aragorn glanced around and nodded, indicating that no one was within eye or ear shot.

Éomer swiftly darted into the room with Aragorn following. close behind. Aragorn quickly deposited his pack on the bed while Éomer shut and bolted the door. As soon as he was done, Aragorn roughly pressed his full length against Éomer, pinning his lover's body against the heavy wood.

"It's been far too long since I've been inside of you, little one," Aragorn growled dangerously in his ear, his voice dripping with the promise of darkling pleasures.

Éomer shuddered at the familiar endearment. Aragorn grabbed a handful of the thick golden blond locks, and pulled back, baring his neck. Éomer groaned as Aragorn bit his way down, soothing each nip with a swipe of his hot tongue. He could feel Aragorn hardening against his buttocks, and his knees went weak. A small moan escaped his throat as the blood immediately pooled in his groin.

Aragorn spun him around, his cobalt eyes alight with a feral lust. "I desire you," he breathed huskily, before he smashed his lips against Éomer's. He pressed his lover's body against the door, catching his wrists and trapping them beside his body.

Éomer moaned softly in his throat. Aragorn's kisses always devastated him. This one incinerated him from within, catching him in a blazing conflagration of need and passion until his insides crumbled to ash.

Aragorn swept his tongue over Éomer's lower lip as they parted, causing the young warrior to gasp at the heated contact. Éomer barely drew another breath before it was stolen again by another hard kiss, and another, leaving his lips slightly swollen and his breathing ragged.

"Mine," Aragorn said silkily, his eyes glittering with hunger. He pinned Éomer's wrists above his head with one hand. With his other, he ripped Éomer's tunic open. Éomer started to yelp in surprise, but it was swallowed by a hitch of breath as Aragorn placed a finger on each side of one of the dusky circles on his chest. Aragorn pulled the skin taut before mercilessly attacking the dark nub; the trapped flesh registering the full heat of his tongue as it danced across the sensitive swell, Aragorn's teasing ministrations causing the skin to furl into tight peaks. Éomer bit off a groan as he felt a sweet-sour ache beginning in his loins, coiling its way through his body. His erection strained against the confines of his breeches, his need burning brightly within him.

"Yes," Éomer breathed raggedly. "Take me now, my lord." Aragorn scooped Éomer up and promptly deposited him on the bed, pouncing on Éomer before he could properly re-orient himself.

Aragorn ground his crotch against Éomer as if he were trying to annihilate the barrier of clothing. As Éomer was arching underneath him, he reached into his pack and pulled out two short lengths of rope. He quickly bound Éomer's wrists to the headboard. Éomer began breathing harder, eagerly anticipating Aragorn's next move.

Aragorn swiftly stripped them both, his hard organ springing out of his breeches. He hastily produced a jar of salve from his pack and coated his pulsing member with the oily substance.

He prepared his fingers, and slid one into Éomer's puckered entrance, causing him to cry out. Éomer's body starting vibrating, craving greater contact. He wanted to feel Aragorn's firm muscled body pressing against his, wanted to feel his rigid shaft.

"Aragorn," Éomer begged plaintively, his breath weak from the desire raging through him, "Please..."

In response, Aragorn plunged into Éomer's tight entrance. Éomer screamed at the top of his lungs as he was penetrated, feeling each nerve explode, wanting Aragorn to ravish him, to claim his body with the full force of his primal lust.

Aragorn pumped deeply into Éomer's body, all sense of finesse forgotten. Éomer convulsed with each jab, keening loudly as he strained against his bonds. The intense ramming whipped him into a frenzy, causing Éomer to wrap his legs around Aragorn's hips and return Aragorn's thrusts with equal force.

He became a creature of blind need, all thought forgotten. All that concerned him was his hunger to feel Aragorn deep inside of him, his need for Aragorn to erase all of the nights they spent apart with each hard pound.

Aragorn began slamming into him roughly, his mouth making guttural noises. Éomer felt his head going light. All of his breath was spent screaming as each thrust plundered deeply into him, savagely pushing him into the bed, marking him as Aragorn's. Aragorn captured Éomer's mouth, swallowing his loud keens, tongue wrapping possessively around his lover's.

Éomer felt himself burning, the pyre inside him growing hotter until it was almost unbearable. His blood thundered in his ears, his vision blurring as Aragorn relentlessly pistoned into him, filling him over and over.

Aragorn's body was trembling as he sat back and pulled Éomer onto his thighs, tilting the young warrior's hips upward, his hard strokes rubbing against the heart of Éomer's pleasure. He covered Éomer's mouth with his hand, muting his increasingly loud cries.

Éomer was soaring on wave after wave of pleasure. Just when he thought he couldn't crest any higher, Aragorn jabbed him deeply again. He locked gazes with his lover, his clouded eyes a silent plea for completion.

Aragorn plundered him deeper in response, growling, "I'm not done with you yet, little one." Éomer thrashed desperately against his bonds, each muffled entreaty cut short by a hard thrust. Soon, his body was quivering from head to toe, and a small pool of moisture from his shaft had leaked onto his stomach. His grip on the outside world was fading, his only concerns now were on his pent-up desire, and on Aragorn's tireless pumping, keeping him just on the edge of release.

Just when he thought he couldn't endure anymore, Aragorn's rhythm began breaking slightly. He rasped, "Stay quiet, little one," as he removed his hand from Éomer's mouth.

Aragorn grasped Éomer's hips tightly, and he slammed swiftly into his lover, his eyes feverish as he approached his climax. Éomer matched his frenzied pace, causing the bed to shake under them.

Before long, Éomer felt Aragorn's body shudder. Aragorn suddenly tensed every muscle as he buried himself deep inside Éomer, containing a roar as his pleasure reached its peak; his hips still raggedly pistoning as he spent himself completely within Éomer's body.

The tremors had not yet left the Aragorn's body when he said hoarsely, "Now."

He simultaneously clamped his left hand over Éomer's mouth and grabbed his lover's neglected erection with his right. Éomer sobbed in relief as he immediately went over the edge. He gave a muffled shriek as he felt his passion exploding, splashing hot liquid on Aragorn's fingers.

While Éomer was still quaking, Aragorn sat back. He raised his seed coated hand to his lips and thoroughly licked it clean. "Delicious," he purred, before leaning forward for a deep kiss. Éomer moaned against Aragorn's mouth, lapping up the tangy flavor of his release mixed with Aragorn's own heady taste of pipeweed and woodsmoke.

Panting, Aragorn pulled out of Éomer, trembling at this last, delectable contact. He untied Éomer before he collapsed onto his lover's chest.

Éomer ran his hands over Aragorn's tanned skin, now glistening with sweat. Still dazed by their frantic coupling, he idly traced lazy patterns on the surface.

"I've missed you," he breathed.

"Aye, I've missed you too," Aragorn said as he gave Éomer a lingering kiss. They lay there a while in the afterglow, but it was far too soon for the Éomer's taste when Aragorn stirred and began to rise from his sweat covered body.

Éomer made a small sound of protest, but Aragorn silenced him with a lingering kiss. "I will be back soon enough," he said as he got up to rummage around the room.

He came back with a damp washcloth and cleaned them both. "Our fair one should be joining us soon," he said with a devilish smile, "and we should be prepared."

Éomer asked tiredly, "And how is his timing so remarkably convenient?"

Aragorn chuckled. "His sharp elf ears have surely heard us rutting, even through these walls. I am sure that when he arrives he will be quite aroused."

Éomer groaned. "I doubt that I will be of much use," he said thickly, the gentle touch of the washcloth and their recent lovemaking making his limbs feel heavy. A wave of fatigue overtook him, and the room faded from his view.

Éomer floated in blackness for a while and before long, he began to dream. He was riding across a long, grassy plain on a warm, beautiful day. The wind was blowing through his hair, and he saw a pack of horses in the distance.

He wheeled Firefoot to follow, feeling the ground fly underneath them. Soon, they were both flying through the air, his horse galloping through the sky as if it were solid earth underneath its hooves. Many leagues flew by before Firefoot finally landed and trotted into the castle that Éomer had spent his childhood in.

His father and mother were there, and they greeted him happily. They walked him to his old room, but when they opened the door, a wave of blue water washed over him, the undertow pulling him in.

Now he was swimming in a lake, the liquid warm and caressing, enveloping his body and making him feel safe. Soon he broke the surface, emerging completely dry onto a sun-dappled plain dotted by many rolling hills. He took two steps, and he was suddenly on Firefoot's back again, his steed steadily trotting over the landscape.

A soft, sweet elven melody drifted on the breeze and filled his ears. As he crested over a hill, he saw Legolas reclining on his back on a bed of flowers in a meadow. His head was resting in one hand, the spun gold locks spilling out to spread over his arm and around his shoulders.

The sun danced across the white-gold strands, turning them into a scintillating curtain of colors. As Legolas gently turned his head to catch the light breeze wafting through the air, the prismatic display shifted and glinted delightfully.

He was clad only in a diaphanous tunic of sheer leaf-green material. The fragile fabric was as delicate as a cobweb, and looked as if a single breath would shred it. A small rope around Legolas' waist, the same flaxen color as his hair, tied it shut. One beautiful slim leg was stretched out, while the other was tucked inward towards his hip, coquettishly shielding his groin from full view.

Legolas' alabaster skin glowed and sparkled as if lit from within. He was giving voice to the song that permeated the air, his free hand idly toying with the blossoms beside him. As soon as he saw Éomer, he completed the lilting tune and smiled shyly. Éomer dismounted, feeling his clothes melt away as he approached Legolas.

Legolas lowered his gaze, as if he were trying to maintain an aspect of modesty. When Éomer was ten paces away from him, he slowly raised one hand and began caressing the side of his neck languidly, his head falling to one side, a blissful expression crossing his face, his voice cooing softly as he touched his glittering flesh.

Éomer tried to speak, but the heavy atmosphere would not allow him to. Instead, he carefully closed the distance between them. Legolas stopped fondling himself when Éomer knelt down by his side. He turned to look at his lover with his clear, azure eyes; the light of mischief dancing within them. Éomer smiled as he wrapped his arms around Legolas and leisurely draped his body on top of Legolas' slender form, marveling at the warmth that he could feel emanating from his lover.

Legolas gladly welcomed Éomer, gracefully winding his slim arms around Éomer's neck and his willowy legs around Éomer's waist. The motion revealed Legolas' rapidly hardening arousal rising up from the nest of pale curls at the juncture of his thighs.

Éomer's breath caught as Legolas displayed his hidden treasure. He murmured his admiration as he kissed Legolas gently, feeling the firm pressure against his lips and supping of his lover's blossom-sweet taste as if it were a precious nectar, each kiss more addicting than the last.

Needing more, he cupped Legolas' face tenderly between his large hands and captured the delicate lips passionately, delving into and fully exploring the moist folds of his mouth. They parted with a soft sigh, and Éomer lightly stroked Legolas' cheek, gazing longingly into the sapphire depths.

Legolas wrapped his fingers around Éomer's, halting the motion. His eyes closed as he reverently pressed his lips to Éomer's palm and hummed softly, sending an electric tingle through the his lover's blood.

Eventually, Legolas looked up at Éomer, his eyes wide and heartbreakingly vulnerable. Éomer smiled and tenderly caressed the pale neck with his hands, thrilling inside at Legolas' soft gasp. Legolas began to gleam a little more strongly as the pale column was mapped.

The air was heavy, and Éomer felt as if he were dragging his arms through a vat of honey as his hands descended lower to caress Legolas' body, pushing through the material to feel the warm, radiant skin underneath. Legolas trilled quietly, small glints of light exploding off the surface of his flesh as he arched into the touch. He was breathtakingly beautiful in his need, and Éomer felt his shaft grow in response.

Legolas moaned when Éomer reached behind him to cup his buttocks, Éomer's rough hand languorously gliding over the silky firmness. Éomer purred deep in his throat, feeling the heat of both of their hard erections rubbing against each other. Legolas began panting, his skin glittering as his turgid member slid over Éomer's.

Éomer kissed Legolas gently again, enjoying the slide of his tongue and the hot texture of the exquisite mouth. His right hand moved to the front to trace light, feathery circles on Legolas' sex, feeling the gossamer fabric part under his touch. Legolas whimpered softly, his body completely pliant under Éomer's touch.

Spurred on by the quiet sounds, the fingers of Éomer's other hand brushed against the material at the cleft of the Legolas' buttocks, causing the tunic to dissolve away like mist. He carefully circled his finger around the tight entrance, his touch light and teasing.

Responding to the feathery strokes, Legolas breathed heavily, his eyelids fluttering with lust. Éomer continued to circle the puckered flesh slowly, wringing small quivers out of the slim form. Legolas locked gazes with his lover, silently coaxing him for more contact.

When Éomer refused to answer his plea, Legolas reached down and grabbed his lover's erection in his hand. He dipped his slim fingers into the copious moisture leaking from the head and smeared it over the throbbing shaft. Éomer moaned as the smooth and slightly callused hand glided across the velvety skin. Legolas then grasped Éomer with his other hand, causing his lover to choke off a cry. Legolas' left hand was oily, and Éomer trembled as the two hands alternated stroking the length of him, coating his member. When he was done, Legolas smiled and eagerly parted his legs, the sapphire eyes begging Éomer to take him.

Needing no prompting, Éomer pushed swiftly into the hot entrance, capturing Legolas' lips as he did so and muffling a mewl of pleasure. He groaned loudly as the elf's hot tightness grasped his organ, the feeling suddenly becoming the center of his being.

He thrust into Legolas' undulating form languorously, not being able to push against the resistance in this dream world. Legolas pressed against him, encouraging Éomer on.

Éomer reached down and grabbed Legolas' member in his hand, stroking the firm shaft, loving the sound of his soft moans and whimpers. Slowly, he felt his passion coiling and building; he watched Legolas glow brighter as he responded to his caresses and slow strokes. Small gasps escaped Legolas' lips; sparks began dancing off his skin and popping into the air as his excitement built.

Éomer felt like he was losing a small bit of himself each time he stroked his lover within and without; feeling the sweet form writhe underneath him, the warmth inside of him gathering speed as Legolas urged him on, the slide inside the hot passage and the delicious muted cries from the dewy lips fanning his desire. As they continued, the sluggishness in Éomer's limbs faded, and he began to thrust faster, causing Legolas to cry out against his mouth, a kaleidoscope of colors rippling through the white-gold locks as his body rocked in time to Éomer's; his skin now shining steadily, his barely contained pleasure reaching a critical point.

Éomer reached down and grasped the Legolas' shaft, the light from the turgid flesh pulsating steadily. He matched the rhythm of his thrusts, swallowing the keens that were gaining in volume and frequency.

Legolas finally shuddered and screamed. His loud cries were stifled against Éomer's mouth, and his entire being glowed so brightly that it was like looking into a miniature sun as he climaxed; pearly strands splashed across the pale torso, Legolas' sweet mewls causing Éomer to surrender into his own release.

They embraced afterward, content. Éomer felt himself getting lighter, and then strangely heavier as the landscape faded away. As he passed from dreaming to half-wakefulness, he became aware of a pair of arms twined around his back, and a hard body underneath his.

"Did you enjoy your dream, melethron?" Legolas trilled, his voice breathy with spent passion.

Éomer's eyes widened in surprise. He was still in Aragorn's bed, naked; but somehow he was now on top of Legolas and his semi-hard member was softening inside of his lover. He felt a wet stickiness between them, on his hand, and around his shaft; the air was heavy with the scent of sex.

"Did we...?" he gaped in amazement.

He heard Aragorn's voice beside him. "Aye, you did. I had quite an enjoyable time with Legolas while you were sleeping, but he was still not yet sated. He tried to rouse you with his tongue, but you were so deep in slumber that you didn't even stir. However, our fair one was determined that he would have you one way or the other." Aragorn chuckled in amusement.

"I did say that I had more songs to sing for you," Legolas teased, a smile curling on his delicate lips. "Do not worry. However you touched me in your dream was mirrored in reality, and I prepared myself beforehand."

"The two of you were quite beautiful to watch," Aragorn said appreciatively. "I will have to have him repeat this at a future time."

Éomer slid out, groaning softly. He felt immensely drained. "I shall never get any rest at this rate. I wish I had your stamina, Aragorn."

Aragorn said, "How do you think I developed it? When we first became lovers, Legolas would invoke this glir at all hours of the night. It was quite taxing on me at first."

Éomer stared at Legolas, who blushed lightly and lowered his eyes coyly. His expression caused Éomer to burst into a fit of laughter.

Aragorn laughed and kissed Legolas. "You're not deceiving anyone with that look," he said in an amused voice. He laughed again as Legolas gazed at him with a mock look of hurt.

Éomer asked, "And why did you just not order him to cease and allow you some rest?"

"That's quite a long story that I will save for another time," Aragorn said with a sly smile.

He reached over and tossed Legolas the damp washcloth he had used earlier. "Your turn, a'maelamin," he said.

As Legolas attended to the two of them, Éomer tried to fruitlessly determine the lateness of the hour. "How early in the day is it?" he asked.

"Two and a half hours before the servants start wakening. We should probably retire to our separate rooms before then to avoid rousing suspicion." Legolas said lightly.

Éomer rubbed a hand over his weary eyes. "And I still feel tired. The two of you will eventually slay me."

Aragorn turned to face Éomer and pulled his lover's body against his own. "Hush. We have time enough for a nap before you must leave."

Legolas curled against his back, and pulled the blankets over the three of them. He began singing quietly, lulling Aragorn and Éomer to sleep.

Two hours later, Éomer's internal clock signaled him that it was time to rise. He groaned and blearily opened his eyes. He hadn't received nearly enough rest, but it was better than none at all. He noticed that the other occupants of the bed were still slumbering.

Éomer turned his head and gently looked at Legolas, drinking in the sight of his perfect skin. The sapphire eyes were dreamily gazing off into the distance.

Éomer had been disquieted when he had first seen Legolas fall into reverie, but he now found it strangely charming.

Éomer turned his head back to look at Aragorn's sleeping face, loving how peaceful and content his lover looked in slumber. He lightly caressed the thick stubble covering Aragorn's cheeks.

Aragorn was still facing him, arms curled around him in a protective embrace. His comforting scent tickled Éomer's nose.

Éomer felt a wave of contentment wash over him. He had fallen asleep in Aragorn's arms their first night together, and he missed the complete feeling of security he had while he was in the bigger man's embrace.

Éomer traced his fingers down Aragorn's neck and over the skin of his lover's large arms, familiarizing himself with every curve and scar. He continued his path upward, gently tangling his fingers in the light fur on Aragorn's chest.

He sighed. He felt curiously euphoric and blissful at this moment. He was suddenly seized by an ardent desire to while the rest of the day away just merely resting in Aragorn's arms.

This disturbed Éomer, since up until this point, he had only experienced brief liaisons completely free of emotional commitment. And with the war occurring, he could not let himself indulge in much more than physical delights. Entanglements would only blunt his fine warrior's edge.

Not wanting to ponder this line of thought any further, he decided that it was time for him to rise. He kissed Aragorn's eyelids lightly before he attempted to carefully unwind himself from his lover's protective embrace.

Aragorn pulled Éomer closer and opened his eyes. "Good morning, melme," he said. There was no trace of sleepiness in his voice.

Éomer felt Legolas stir behind him, and felt the back of his neck being nuzzled. "Good morning, melethron," he whispered against Éomer's skin.

Aragorn pressed his lips against Éomer's tenderly. "You still look a bit worn," he remarked, studying the lines in his lover's face.

Éomer yawned and said, "The nap barely took the edge off of my weariness. I hope my brain will be clear enough to participate in the conference."

Aragorn replied, "Go to your room, and have the servants bring you some hot water. I have some tea that will help."

Éomer attempted to get out of the bed, but two sets of hands began to caress his naked skin. "I will never be able to fit into my breeches if the two of you continue teasing me," he grumbled, half tumbling onto the floor as his legs tangled in the sheets.

"Perhaps you would prefer that we throw you bodily out of the bed?" Legolas asked with a smirk.

"Valar save me from elves and their merry tongues. It is too early in the morn for such levity," Éomer said as he smacked Legolas lightly on his firm rump.

Legolas said cheekily, "Only my lord has permission to touch me so." He suddenly let out a small squeal as Aragorn pinched his buttocks.

"You are far too rambunctious in the morning, seldo. I will have to punish you later," Aragorn said threatingly. He smirked when Legolas' golden head meekly lowered in response to his castigation.

Éomer had finally manage to stand up and slip on his breeches. As he was lacing them up, Aragorn gestured towards the door. "Be off, Éomer. I will meet up with you after I deal with this mischievous one."

Éomer suppressed a chuckle as he saw an eager glint appear in Legolas' eyes.

"All right. But do not take overly long," he replied.

Éomer picked up the remnants of his tunic and quietly slipped out of Aragorn's chambers. The servants had started to stir, but he avoided them easily enough.

He slipped quickly back to his room and pulled off his breeches. He ruefully examined his tunic and decided that it wasn't salvageable. Shaking his head, he tossed it onto the floor along with his breeches before he climbed into his bed.

A short while later, a servant girl came in with his breakfast and Éomer had her remove his tunic from the room, making the excuse that he had torn it when it got caught on a nail. He asked for some hot water and a cup, and did his morning ablutions as he was waiting for her to return. He found a fresh tunic, and he put it on after he slipped back into his breeches.

After about twenty minutes, the girl dutifully came back with a small kettle and a wooden trivet. She placed the trivet on one of the small tables by Éomer's bed.

"Do you need anything else, my lord?" she asked.

"No thank you. You may leave," Éomer replied. She respectfully curtsied and left. A handful of moments passed by before he heard a soft tap on his door.

"Come in," he answered.

Aragorn entered, fully dressed. Éomer felt his heart pound, even though he had just been with his lover mere moments ago. Smiling mischievously, Aragorn closed the door, walked over to the bed, and thoroughly kissed Éomer, stealing his breath away.

A small cry escaped Éomer's throat as he felt himself melting into the caress of Aragorn's hot tongue. He joyfully tangled his own tongue with his lover's, exploring Aragorn's mouth. He felt himself drowning in the kiss, merging with Aragorn through his lips. When Aragorn finally parted from him with a light nip to his lower lip, he felt an overwhelming sense of loss.

"My hunger for you is boundless," Aragorn said huskily. "But unfortunately, I cannot tarry here."

He reached over to grab the kettle and poured some of the hot water into a cup. Aragorn then reached into his coat, and produced a packet. He paused to open the paper carefully before he sprinkled the contents into the steaming water.

He said, "Let it steep for a while and then drink it. You may want to sweeten it with honey, as this tea is quite bitter. You should feel the tiredness abate at least until after the conference."

Aragorn then looked longingly at Éomer. "I should be getting back to my room," he said regretfully.

Éomer kissed him again, sending a thrill through his entire body. "Until the conference, Aragorn," he said gently.

"Until the conference, Éomer."

Aragorn disappeared swiftly, no sound betraying his passage. Éomer sighed, and reached for the cup.

The tea was not as bitter as he thought it would be. He was touched that Aragorn paid him a visit, however brief, and wished that they could steal away again. He sighed, putting his idle thoughts to rest and concentrating on the tea instead. The tiredness left his muscles as he sipped, and he felt much more refreshed after he finished his drink.

Feeling awake, he donned his armor and walked down to King Théoden's throne room. Gandalf, Legolas, Gimli, Aragorn, and Éowyn were already waiting. Éomer smiled as he noticed that his sister, ever the pragmatist, had opted to not wear her formal gowns. Instead, she donned the simple clothes she had brought with her to Helm's Deep, and had strapped her sword on.

He sat down, and his gaze briefly rested on Aragorn, fascinated by the play of light on his unruly hair, his eyes straying towards the lips that had kissed him savagely last night. He felt himself aching inside again, and it took all of his discipline to wall off his emotions and stay calm and collected.

Fortunately, King Théoden began to speak at that moment.

"I have received an urgent request from Gondor. They are being invaded by the dark forces, and require our help," his uncle stated. "Éomer, we need every able-bodied warrior in Rohan available, and I myself will be joining you. We are bound by the Oath of Eorl to assist, and we must do so to the utmost of our ability."

"My lord," Éomer replied, "we are sorely underpowered. Many soldiers were depleted at Helm's Deep. Surely we cannot hope to win."

Gandalf suggested, "There is a way to gather more help. Aragorn is the last of the Numenor. He must travel the Paths of the Dead and call on the cursed men of the White Mountains."

Éomer felt his heart sink at Gandalf's words, but he remained as calm as he could.

Aragorn replied, "Very well, but Legolas and Gimli must ride with me. We have traveled together for many moons, and do not wish to be separated now. "

Théoden and Gandalf nodded in assent.

"My lord," Éowyn interjected, "let me ride out with you. You will need my skills at Gondor."

"Nay, Éowyn. I need you here," Théoden replied.

Her eyes flashed fire. "I can fight just as well as any of these men. Why are you holding me back?!" she said angrily.

"Éowyn, your duty is to your people," Théoden said calmly.

"And I can serve them by either going to Gondor or the Paths of the Dead. If I do not, Middle Earth will fall, and what use will I be then?"

"I forbid it, Éowyn!" Théoden growled. "Do not speak of this foolishness any further!"

Éowyn glared at him hotly before she spun on her heel and left. Éomer started to follow her, but Aragorn stopped him. "Let her go, she needs some time to herself," he said.

Éomer nodded. The group outlined the rest of their plans. Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli would leave at dawn, the day after tomorrow; Éomer would meanwhile co-ordinate the summoning of every fighting man available in Rohan.

As they left the hall, Aragorn brushed close to Éomer and whispered, "Meet me in my quarters when you are able to, little one."

Éomer kept his expression neutral, but felt his heart leaping. However, much as he wanted to lose himself in Aragorn's arms, he still had business to attend to. He met with a couple of his lieutenants and discussed the preparations they needed to make before riding out to Gondor. He carefully inspected the horses and their arms, making sure that they were well supplied and fit for the upcoming battle.

Once he was satisfied, Éomer walked over to the guest quarters. He had reached the hallway leading to Aragorn's room when Éowyn rushed up to him.

"A word with you in private, brother," she said tersely. She looked particularly distressed, and Éomer could not deny her comfort. He nodded.

Éowyn gestured over to her room and they walked over in silence. Éomer could feel the tension radiating off her body.

After they entered her chambers, she shut the door behind them and bolted it. She said grimly, "I fear that Lord Aragorn will be lost forever if he travels the Paths of the Dead. He will need my help...Can you not persuade Théoden King to reconsider?"

Éomer shook his head and replied, "Sister, we are warriors, why does his decision distress you so? I trust Gandalf's counsel."

"But if he is wrong..." she said hesitantly. She bit her lip. "Oh Éomer, death by orcs is at least a known factor. The uncertainty of Lord Aragorn's fate at the hands of the Dead causes me despair." She wrapped her arms protectively about herself. "It wounds my heart because I love him," she said quietly.

Éomer gasped in shock and he felt a knot form in his stomach. "You cannot mean this!"

"Aye, I do. Once I set eyes on him."

Éomer cursed that his need for discretion had created this problem. He tried for some semblance of sanity. "Éowyn, you were still distressed over Theodred's death. Do not be so hasty in transferring your affections."

"And I would prefer that you not play the role of my protector. I am a grown woman, Éomer," she said as she glared at him hotly. "Besides, what would you know of love, brother? I have long wearied of your string of dalliances with whichever pretty man happened to catch your eye."

Éowyn's words cut Éomer to the quick. "That was uncalled for," he growled. "However, I will warn you again that Lord Aragorn does not return your affections."

"Are you jealous, Éomer? On the journey to Helm's Deep, he looked at me longingly." Her voice became more forceful as she said, "Nay, I know he returns my affections, and I will tell him of my feelings."

Éomer felt an irrational stab of jealousy and rage. "This is folly, sister. He does not love you." He reached over to grab her shoulder.

She threw Éomer's arm off, eyes flashing. "And do not dictate to me!" she yelled. She thrust her face mere inches from his and suddenly her eyes went wide. "You've been with him," she said tightly, backing away. "His scent is on you." She turned her back to him, hugging herself again.

"Éowyn..." Éomer said, reaching out to gently touch her shoulder.

"Curse you!" she screamed. She spun backwards swiftly, her fist aimed at his temple. She moved too fast for Éomer to defend himself, and his head snapped sideways as the blow connected, colliding with the dresser behind him. He sagged unconscious to the ground. Éowyn stalked out angrily, her footsteps taking her to the stables.

Aragorn was wandering through the hallway when he heard a loud thump. Curious, he paused, withdrawing into the shadows. He soon saw Éowyn flinging open the door to her room, her face contorted in fury. He waited until she left before he cautiously approached her chambers, keeping his senses alert.

As crept down the hallway, he heard a man breathing shallowly. Worried, he hastened through the open door, alarmed when he saw Éomer's still form on the ground.

He rushed to Éomer and checked him for damage. He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw that his lover was not concussed. Éomer would have a bad bruise, there were no signs of more serious injuries.

Aragorn hastened back to his room for his pack. When he returned, he shut Éowyn's door behind him. Cradling Éomer in his arms, he applied an arnica ointment to the bruise. He then reached into his pack for a small bottle containing an elixir of lavender and rosemary oil. He opened it and held it under Éomer's nose.

His eyes eventually fluttered open. "She knows that we're lovers," he croaked.

"I was afraid of that," Aragorn said softly.

Éomer sat up groggily. "I do not blame her for striking me. Theodred's death and the decline of Rohan has been quite hard on her. She has not been thinking rationally since then."

Éomer looked deep into Aragorn's eyes. "Aragorn," he said quietly, "Do you love her?"

Aragorn looked startled. "I have great affection and sympathy for the Lady Éowyn, but I do not love her. My heart has been well claimed."

Éomer's eyes lowered. He knew Legolas had Aragorn's love. For some reason, that fact pained him now. "I see," he replied, his voice almost inaudible. He tried to turn his face away.

Aragorn cupped Éomer's face and held it gently. "Éomer, what troubles you?" he asked. Aragorn's cobalt eyes drilled into him, making him feel weak inside.

"Nothing," Éomer said softly, feeling ill at ease. He could not let himself feel so vulnerable around Aragorn, and he needed a distraction. "I need to find my sister before she does something foolhardy," he said as he struggled to his feet.

Aragorn said gently, "Do you require assistance?"

Éomer shook his head. "Nay. This is a matter for the two of us to settle betwixt ourselves." He hurried to the stables and saddled his horse.

He checked a few of the taverns first, as well as the immediate surrounding area. Failing to locate her, he decided to try one more place.

He rode out to a secluded cave in the hills several miles away from Edoras. It was a spot that they had discovered as children, and they had kept it as a secret between the two of them.

He dismounted outside of the cave's entrance and tentatively approached it. As Éomer drew near, he heard the familiar swoosh of a sword. He continued his slow walk, gradually creeping down the passage until it opened out into a broad, relatively flat area. Éowyn was whirling around in the center, practicing intensely. Her face was covered by a sheen of sweat.

She suddenly stopped. "I know you're here, Éomer," she said angrily, lowering her sword. "How dare you blacken my sight with your presence."

"I wish to talk, Éowyn. I did not mean to hurt you."

"Did you think about that when you bedded Aragorn?"

Éomer ground out, "I did not know that you were attracted to him. I had no contact with you until the night after the attack at Helm's Deep."

Éowyn glared at him hotly. She said, "I will accept that. But I now ask that you cease your dalliance with him."

"Nay."

Her nostrils flared and she asked, "What have I done to deserve such ill treatment from my own brother?"

"You have done nothing, Éowyn."

"Then why will you not release him? He leaves in less than two days, Éomer. Would you deny me the chance at one last bit of happiness?"

Éomer cursed. His sister and he were too much alike, and he knew that she would pursue Aragorn to the far ends of the earth unless she heard otherwise from Éomer's lips. And he had made a vow to her long ago that he would never lie to her when she asked him a direct question.

"Well? I am waiting, brother."

Éomer hesitated. He was extremely confused at this point. If he allowed Éowyn to confront Aragorn, she would probably do something to endanger herself when he rejected her.

If he confessed that Aragorn was in love with Legolas, she would still probe him until she discovered how he had acquired this information.

He briefly thought of a third option, but he began to feel the barrier around his heart straining, so he dismissed it.

He hated the unfamiliar, uncomfortable position she had him in, and his temper boiled over. "What difference does it make?" he bit out. "You must stay here, for the sake of our people. I thought you were a warrior, Éowyn, able to put your duty over your heart."

Faster than he could blink, she closed the distance between him and her sword was at his throat. "Leave me," she said tensely. "I will endure no more of your insults."

He felt dejected as he rode back into Edoras. As he wandered distractedly through Meduseld, he almost collided into Legolas. Fortunately, his lover skillfully dodged out of the way at the last second.

"And I thought dwarves were the only species that were always preoccupied with staring at the earth," his silver voice said merrily. Upon seeing Éomer's dull eyes, the archer leaned closer and whispered, "Melethron, what troubles you?"

Éomer sighed heavily. Legolas said gently, "Let us go to your quarters and you can unburden yourself."

They walked quietly Éomer's bedchambers, and as soon as the door was closed, Legolas gathered Éomer into his arms and held him.

"Tell me what weighs so heavily on your mind," he said soothingly.

Éomer shuddered. "I am on the horns of a great dilemma, my sweet. My sister is in love with Aragorn, and I fear that she will do something foolish because of it. She will not give up unless she is convinced that his heart truly belongs to another, and I am bound by oath to tell her the truth.

"She is tolerant of relationships between men, but I doubt that your bond with Aragorn will meet with her approval. And I know that I must tell her everything if she asks."

"You mentioned my bond with Aragorn. What of yours?"

Éomer startled, "I do not feel that deeply for our lord."

Legolas stroked Éomer's hair. "Do not deceive yourself. I have seen how you look at him whilst we are together." Éomer looked away, but Legolas continued, "Why are you denying your feelings?"

"Because we are at war. Death is ever at our heels. It would not be wise to become involved."

"Yet it would be wise to become forever bitter and curse yourself with regret for what might have been? I know what you are thinking, melethron, I am also a warrior. You should not let the fog of war keep you from your feelings. In fact, it should quicken your pace because you may never have another chance. We have come close to death multiple times, and each time, I praise the Valar that Aragorn knows of my love."

Éomer felt the careful wall he had erected around his emotions starting to buckle. "He only loves you," he said desperately, grasping at the first flimsy explanation that he could use to shut Legolas' soft words out.

Legolas hugged him close. "How do you know that? Have you asked him specifically? I have known Aragorn for over sixty years, and he can be obtuse in matters of the heart."

Not wanting to acknowledge the glimmer of hope he was feeling, Éomer stubbornly said, "I already know the answer."

"Do you? Or are you avoiding the consequences of your own feelings?"

Éomer snapped, "Are you implying that I am being a coward?"

Legolas said patiently, "I see that you still are unsure. Remember that you may not see us again after we leave for the Paths of the Dead, and trust in yourself to resolve this dilemma. I know that you will do the right thing." He kissed Éomer lightly and stole out of the room, no sound betraying his passage.

Éomer sighed. He knew that he was being irrational, but he didn't care. He needed to focus on defending Rohan. Trembling, he cleared his mind before he left his room.

Éomer spent the rest of the day preparing an official summons and dispatching messengers. He only barely managed to stay focused on his tasks, his mind completely awhirl on the situation with Éowyn and Aragorn. He wandered through Meduseld, completely oblivious to where his feet were taking him. His thoughts a maelstrom of confusion.

He could not risk anyone discovering his intimate activities. At best, it would mean exile again. Yet, if he did not say anything to Éowyn, she would jeopardize herself.

Legolas' words came back to him, and Éowyn's. He felt uncertainty crushing him again, and he backed away from it.

He looked up, and found that his steps had led him to Theodred's abandoned chambers. Reverently, he walked in. The bed had been stripped and a single Simbelmyne blossom was placed in the middle of the mattress. Nothing else had been touched.

Éomer knelt on the floor, idly running his hand over the cold bedding. He recalled the last day he had see Theodred alive.

They were out on patrol together with the Rohirrim. There were no signs of any orcish activity, so he pulled Firefoot out of formation to trot beside Brego.

"So how fares my soon to be brother-in-law?" he teased.

Theodred smiled and said, "Éomer, we have only been in love for a few months."

"Aye, but you two travel through Meduseld as if you were attached at the hip. I could not bear the weight of such a millstone, especially not one as spirited as my sister."

"My brother, the time will come when you will realize that love is not a burden. In fact, I bless every second that we have together." He lowered his voice and said, "And especially with Father ailing, Éowyn's love is a point of brightness in these dark times. She has become my reason for carrying on."

Éomer shook his head and said, "I still do not see it."

"That is because no one has captured your heart yet. Believe me, Éomer, when it happens, you will discover that it will pain you more to hide it."

"It will not occur, not while I am still Marshal."

Theodred looked ruefully at him. "Then let me leave you with this thought. Sometimes the greatest challenge is not facing death head-on, but daring to become completely vulnerable and allowing another person to share your soul. For the person you love can wound you more deeply than any weapon."

"You are not making love sound attractive, Theodred," Éomer replied.

"Ah, but when you feel yourself come alive at the very mention of your love's name, when you draw strength from the very fact that they exist, that is when you will bless your good fortune."

"Perhaps..." Éomer frowned. He heard the faintest scrape nearby. "Did you hear that?" he asked as he readied his spear.

"Aye," Theodred said. "We will continue this conversation later, brother."

They had been attacked by the orcs shortly after that. Éomer felt the tears spring to his eyes as the memory of Theodred being cut down brutally by an Uruk-Hai warrior returned. The last words from his lips had been Éowyn's name.

"Éomer?"

Aragorn's quiet voice pulled Éomer back to the present. Lost in grief as he was, he did not have the chance to block off his emotions. Aragorn was looking at him tenderly, his eyes vulnerable. Éomer found himself drowning in the gaze, and a warmth that was not lust suffused throughout his blood.

Gazing into the cobalt blue depths, Éomer realized that what he feared on the day he met Aragorn in the Riddermark was not the mastery of his body, but of his heart.

He pulled Aragorn into Theodred's room and closed the door. Embracing him closely, he whispered, "I had not the courage to say this before, but I love you. I do not care if you only love Legolas."

Aragorn looked confused. "Did I ever say that?"

"In Éowyn's room, you said your heart had been well claimed."

Aragorn kissed a tear from Éomer's cheek. "And it has been. By an elf and a man."

Éomer felt his heart singing. He pressed his lips against Aragorn's, tenderly exploring his beloved's mouth, memorizing every texture, crevice, and taste.

When they parted, he said breathily, "Legolas was right, I should have asked."

Aragorn chuckled. "My fair one often knows me better than I do myself," he said. He suddenly drew Éomer closer and hissed, "I want to make our last night here memorable, little one."

Éomer shivered at the promise in his words. "What must I do, my lord?"

"I will give you your instructions later," Aragorn said, his eyes glinting dangerously. "I will take my leave now." He disappeared swiftly down the corridor.

Éomer felt the rest of the day flying by quickly now that his burdens were considerably lighter. However, he was still vaguely troubled by the unresolved situation with Éowyn.

Her words also plagued him. While he was sure that she was mistaken about Aragorn's longing glances, he also vaguely remembered that Aragorn was wearing a jewel in the Riddermark. Had a lady curried his favor previously? Irritated with himself, he dismissed his suspicions as products of his exhausted mind.

Once he was done with his duties, a wave of extreme fatigue swept over him. He realized that a week of very little sleep and his recent emotional stress had finally taken its toll on him. He decided to forego dinner that night and retire early.

He had unbuckled his sword and thrown it onto a chair in his room when he felt a hand brushing his cheek. He whirled around to strike his assailant, lowering his hand when he saw that it was Legolas.

Legolas said softly, "Our lord has commanded that you rest tonight, so I am to service you."

Éomer replied, "My lovely one, I have naught the strength for anything. Not even to ravish you in my sleep."

Legolas laughed delightfully. "Not that manner of servicing. I will be putting you into bed. However, knowing of your ardor in the morning, our lord has commanded that you should not pleasure yourself until he grants you permission."

Éomer grumbled at this new proclamation. Ignoring him, Legolas reached over and his nimble fingers swiftly unbuckled his cuirass, greaves, and vambraces. He then helped Éomer out of his armor and quickly stripped him naked.

Legolas gently tucked the exhausted warrior into his bed. "I will insure that you wake completely refreshed," he said. He began to sing softly, the soothing notes soon lulling Éomer to sleep.

Éomer dreamed that he was in the meadow again, but this time Legolas was wrapped around him, holding him in a loving embrace. Sweet, gentle notes drifted from his luscious mouth, calming Éomer.

Legolas soon ended his song, continuing to cradle Éomer in his arms. He eventually released Éomer, kissing his lover gently before he rolled away. Legolas sat up into a kneeling position and began to sing again, the tinkling notes falling easily from his lips.

As he sang each measure, a small whirlwind started forming around Éomer. It finally solidified into a swirling cloud of coruscating colors which enveloped him, gradually melding with his skin and forming a tight shell. Éomer looked down and his skin had a rainbow sheen to it. It changed colors as he moved, much like an oil slick catching the light.

Legolas rested his hand with a touch as soft as the brush of a butterfly's wings on Éomer's chest. His song changed in nuance, becoming a little deeper in tone. Some of the rainbow coloring bubbled up and slid over Legolas' hands, coating them. Legolas gradually lifted his hands, strands of the rainbow coloring still joining the two. He pulled back stretching the strands like taffy.

Éomer tried to talk, but his tongue felt heavy. He saw the rainbow colors slowly slide up Legolas' skin, covering him completely.

The meadow was fading, and soon Éomer felt his consciousness returning. He opened his eyes. It was dawn, and he felt completely refreshed. He checked his hands. His skin had an odd tingle to it, but was otherwise unmarked.

Legolas was nowhere to be found. Éomer thought that this was curious, since he usually took his leave after they had said their good mornings to each other.

A servant had brought in breakfast for Éomer while he was asleep, and he hastily ate it before donning his armor again and leaving to go about his duties.

He had not yet left the Golden Hall far behind him when he felt something tickling his cheek. Thinking that it was a bug, he scratched, but did not see any insects.

The sensation returned, but this time it was the slow scrape of fingernails down the column of his neck, causing his skin to tingle. The fingers descended lower, scratching lazy circles on his chest. Suddenly, he became aware of Legolas' presence at the edge of his consciousness.

He was not physically apparent, but his scent surrounded Éomer, and he could feel a warm breath ghosting against his ear. He could almost feel the warm press of Legolas' flesh.

Éomer remembered his dream last night and cursed. Aragorn. He should have known that his lover would command Legolas to invoke a glir on him.

He shivered as the fingers closed in, making smaller circles, swooping in on the tender peaks that capped his chest. He bit off a small groan as he felt the sensitive tips being rolled around, teasing them to firmness. Legolas' melodious voice purred in his ear, "You're so responsive, melethron." He felt the whisper of silky skin pressing along his entire form.

"Such a delicious body..." Legolas' voice trilled.

Éomer shifted uncomfortably, feeling the blood pool in his groin. Now he felt Legolas' hands mapping the planes of his chest and stomach. He squirmed as the juncture of his thighs were lightly stroked, and then the sensation began at the insides of his knees, slowly caressing upward.

Éomer frowned. He was fully aroused, and the motion of walking was causing his shaft to rub enticingly across his breeches, causing him to harden further. As he squirmed, he heard a breathy laugh. "Is there a problem, melethron?" Legolas asked.

He did not reply, as he had joined his lieutenants at that instant. They began to update each other on the status of yesterday's assignments.

Éomer bit off a moan as he felt the tender sacs underneath his hard erection being cupped. Fingernails ran along the sides of the sensitive flesh, causing him to shiver. Frustrated, he ground his teeth together and began to think of numerous methods to kill Aragorn and Legolas.

He then felt Legolas' hand grasping his shaft, stroking it until it swelled even harder. Éomer's heart raced, and it took all of his skill to continue talking to his men while the firm touch rapidly brought him close to climax. Then, abruptly, it stopped, causing Éomer to growl in annoyance.

"My Captain, is something wrong?" his lieutenant asked.

"Nay," Éomer said with great effort, trying to keep his voice steady. "Carry on."

The rest of the day was interminable. Once Éomer's nerves had stopped burning, Legolas' hand was back, caressing and fondling him until he almost spilled in his breeches, and then the touches would stop.

The worst teasing occurred he was speaking with his uncle. Legolas' hand teased both the cleft of his buttocks, and the area of sensitive skin just beneath. To add to his plight, Legolas simultaneously whispered the most obscene suggestions to him with a silky purr.

It took all of his willpower to continue concentrating, and Éomer fervently prayed that he could escape for a while and take a cold bath.

He completed his tasks somewhat before dinner, and he retired in relief to his room. He had just stripped off his heavy armor and had asked for a bath to be drawn when Legolas' voice breathed in his ear, "Our lord forbids it. He commands that you come to dine with us."

Éomer bit off the extensive curse forming on his lips. Knowing that his erection needed time to die down, he grumbled and headed the long way around to the dining hall.

Éomer stormed towards the dining hall, his body thrumming in frustration. He was within 10 yards of his goal when a hand suddenly snaked out of a side passage and pulled him in, slamming him back against a wall. A large, familiar, hard body pressed against him.

Aragorn peered out at Éomer from underneath the hood of an elven cloak, his cobalt eyes piercing through him.

"Did you enjoy Legolas teasing you, little one?" he purred. Éomer's eyes fluttered as Aragorn's husky voice caressed his ears, promising the forbidden. The pulsing in his body screamed for release, but he knew that he would not get it until Aragorn granted it to him. The prospect of having to wait even longer suddenly annoyed him.

Éomer pushed against Aragorn, dislodging him. Despite his anger, Éomer kept his voice quiet to avoid drawing attention. "Are you mad? We are preparing for war, and I cannot afford to be distracted in this manner."

He tried to walk away, but Aragorn grabbed his arm in a steely grip.

"I do not like your tone, little one," Aragorn said, his voice barely audible.

"And what will you do about it? Punish me in your quarters?"

Éomer heard Legolas suddenly laugh in his ear, confusing him. Puzzled, Éomer looked at Aragorn, who grinned at him. There was a devilish glint in Aragorn's eyes. It was the same one that he usually crossed his face when he was planning something wicked.

Éomer then realized what Aragorn's intentions were. "Here? Have you completely taken leave of your senses? Someone could see us!"

He tried to squirm free from Aragorn's grip, but Aragorn took advantage of Éomer's momentary surprise to pull him around and throw him face first onto the floor in the side corridor.

Before Éomer could roll over, Legolas emerged from the shadows and pounced on him, kneeling on top of his body and pinning him down. He had been completely screened from Éomer's notice by the elven cloak he wore, and Éomer cursed its effectiveness.

Aragorn's boot filled Éomer's view from the floor. "You forget your place," he said sternly. "I see that I am going to have to teach you another lesson."

Éomer spat out a curse, but he felt his body tingle in anticipation.

"Remove the glir on him," Aragorn commanded.

Legolas nodded in acknowledgment, and began to softly sing. As the lilting notes filled his ears, Éomer felt Legolas' presence fading, flowing away from him like a gently trickling stream.

His eyes still flashed in defiance. "I will not be taken here!" he snarled as he thrashed against Legolas.

Aragorn unclipped a long rope his belt and threw it over a sconce located a few feet away. He then tugged down on the shorter side until the ends were even. Satisfied, he walked over to Éomer, unlaced his struggling captive's boots, and pulled them off.

Aragorn looked at Legolas and nodded. The two of them hauled Éomer to his feet, easily overcoming his squirming body. They dragged him towards the dangling rope.

"Let me go," Éomer said while he continued his futile efforts to break free. He was no match for the two of them, and Legolas eventually pressed Éomer's back against the wall and used his lithe strength to pin Éomer's arms above his head. Once he was immobilized, Aragorn tied Éomer's wrists securely with the rope. Aragorn then released him, smiling as Éomer struggled helplessly.

"You have your orders," Aragorn said to Legolas.

Legolas bowed and disappeared down the corridor. Aragorn pressed closely against Éomer, crushing him against the wall.

Éomer glared hotly at Aragorn, even though his blood sang and his erection pulsed within his breeches, thirsting for more contact. He was determined to deny Aragorn the satisfaction of a quick acquiescence.

"I refuse to let you have your way with me," he said angrily.

Aragorn silenced him by smashing their lips together. He wrapped his tongue possessively around Éomer's, asserting his dominance. Éomer resisted, trying in vain to gain the upper hand. His body thrashed underneath Aragorn's, trying to keep him at bay, to no avail.

Éomer's struggles seemed to fuel Aragorn's passion. He devoured Éomer's lips, tongue, and mouth, rendering Éomer completely breathless. When he broke the kiss, Aragorn dragged his thumb over Éomer's swollen lips, causing him to moan softly.

Aragorn's eyes turned hard as he growled, "Be silent, or I will leave you tied here for your sister to fetch."

The stern tone of voice told Éomer that Aragorn would brook no more dissent. Éomer scowled at him silently.

Aragorn grinned at Éomer's quick compliance. He said wickedly, "And, lest you think that I have the means to provide some sort of cover for our activities..."

Éomer's heart thudded in alarm as he saw Aragorn slowly unclip his cloak and let it fall in a pool at his feet. He made a muffled sound of protest.

Aragorn grabbed Éomer and ran his tongue down the side of his captive's neck. Despite himself, the danger of being discovered was heightening Éomer's excitement. His tortured body responded with a flush of heat, and his neglected erection began to pulse even more. It took much effort for him to swallow the groan that threatened to escape from his lips.

"So needy," Aragorn said, his husky voice making each word sound like a caress. "But you still need to be taught a lesson."

Éomer's eyes widened as he saw Aragorn draw his elven dagger from its sheath. He trembled as Aragorn touched the point of the cool blade to his neck. A small whimper escaped his lips.

"Shh, be still," Aragorn murmured. The weapon glided down, scratching Éomer's skin lightly and leaving red marks in its passage. Éomer froze, heart pounding almost out of his chest as the sharp edge passed over his jugular vein and glided over the juncture of his neck and shoulder.

The dagger was pushed underneath Éomer's tunic, brushing dangerously close to the skin. Éomer held his breath as Aragorn cut the cloth away. The slight coldness of the corridor was amplified by his anticipation to an almost painful degree. Goose pimples formed on his chest as Aragorn gradually bared it.

Éomer choked off a moan as Aragorn slowly caressed the newly exposed skin with his free hand, the heat from it almost burning his chilled flesh, the rush of relief sending him to new, dizzying heights.

Aragorn's caresses seared his chest as they spiraled slowly downward, causing Éomer's lips to tremble as he contained his cries. His eyelashes fluttered as Aragorn traced the skin along his waistband.

"I am not done yet," Aragorn said, his voice harsh.

He swiftly knelt on the ground, running his hand along Éomer's leg. Éomer bit off a slight coo, his jangled nerves calming down to a low buzz, his member aching for release. He sucked in another breath when he saw Aragorn working the dagger underneath the hem of his garment.

Starting at the ankle, Aragorn cut the outside seams of Éomer's breeches, stopping at the waistband. Éomer's heart began to pound again, his breath hitched and a fine sheen of sweat began to cover his face as he fought down a new wave of fear. Aragorn swiftly attacked the inside seams, stopping several inches short of the juncture at Éomer's crotch.

He stood, locked eyes with Éomer, and silently demanded his obedience. Éomer was tempted, but he knew that his surrender would be all the more delicious if he held out longer. He forced himself to glare balefully at Aragorn.

Aragorn's ice-blue eyes ensnared Éomer and burned him to the very core. "Still you resist. How long will your defiance last if I do this?" Aragorn asked as he touched the dagger to the base of Éomer's neck, just above the collarbone.

Éomer choked off a gasp, feeling his nerves frisson in fear. He tried to close his eyes, but Aragorn grabbed his jaw and squeezed it. "Look at me," he barked.

Éomer's eyes flew open, his gaze focusing on Aragorn's. A small, pitiful noise escaped his lips.

Aragorn whispered, "Hush, and be still."

He slowly ran the blade down the length of Éomer's chest, skimming it across the skin, each cold kiss of the blade immediately followed by a mild burn as it lightly scratched Éomer's flesh.

Éomer tried to control his trembling. He was well hardened to the realities of combat, but this situation shattered that comfortable mindset. The slowness of the blade and his helpless position caused Éomer to fully concentrate on what Aragorn was doing. His mouth became dry in fearful anticipation of where the blade would descend next: a mental posture that was fatal on the battlefield. He felt extremely exposed and vulnerable, yet with each descent of the weapon, his fear ebbed and was replaced by a euphoria that flowed through his veins like quicksilver, sending him to new dizzying heights of pleasure.

His excitement made it extremely hard for him to keep himself from squirming. His breathing quickened and he would have cried out but for Aragorn's stern command. Instead, he sealed his lips to swallow the noises forming in his throat, stifling his airflow somewhat. The denial of oxygen quickly sent his head spinning out of control.

The waistband of Éomer's breeches barred the dagger's path. Aragorn sawed the blade underneath the material, weakening it on both sides, but not completely cutting it away.

He squeezed Éomer's chin firmly again. "I did not appreciate your initial fit of temper, little one." His icy stare searing into Éomer, making him quake inside.

Still commanding Éomer's attention, Aragorn leisurely dragged the dagger across the front of Éomer's breeches, stopping the blade's passage at his crotch. He paused, the sharp blade lightly resting on the cloth.

"Your body is mine to do with as I please," he said darkly. Panic clawed at Éomer's mind as he felt Aragorn pushing his weapon forward and up, slowly cutting the cloth over Éomer's manhood, his focus on Éomer's eyes unwavering.

Éomer held his breath, stifling his frightened whimpers. It took all of his self-control to keep still and not squirm against his bonds. He continually reassured himself that he could extend all of his trust to Aragorn, that Aragorn would never hurt him.

He felt the caress of the blade against the tender sacs underneath his erection, and he clenched the ropes tightly in reaction. His breathing was loud and ragged, and he felt sweat trickling down his brow.

Aragorn paused, resting the cold steel against the side of Éomer's shaft. His destroying gaze was unrelenting as he purred, "I own you, is that clear?"

Without waiting for a reply, Aragorn slowly pushed the dagger closer, until Éomer could feel it pressing lightly against his skin. Éomer felt his willpower weakening, and he fought to remain still.

Aragorn said quietly, "Is. that. clear? You may answer now."

Éomer said weakly, "Yes, my lord." He suddenly held his breath in panic as he again felt the pressure slowly increasing against his member. Éomer's eyes dilated as Aragorn calmly pressed further, his self-control started crumbling...then, a whisper away from breaking the skin, Aragorn pulled the dagger aside and sheathed it.

Éomer exhaled sharply with a hiss, his head spinning, and his breath coming out in loud, ragged pants. He felt as if he had just fought a hard battle. As his heart stopped palpitating, he soon found himself cresting on wave after wave of euphoria, feeling elation surge through him, every cell in his body feeling wonderfully, incredibly alive. He felt as if his entire being was glowing, sparking, and exploding; much like Legolas had done in his dream last night.

The heady thrill soon transformed into burning need. His blood thundered in his head, and his slightly softened erection suddenly stiffened and throbbed.

Éomer's body was a raging conflagration. He hungered for Aragorn to fill him, to take him until his vision failed.

"My lord..." Éomer said thickly.

Aragorn nipped Éomer's lower lip and said huskily, "What do you want, little one?"

"Ravish me," Éomer whispered hoarsely. "Please..."

His nerves sang as Aragorn grabbed the weakened seam of his waistband, ripping his breeches off. He bit off the loud moan forming in his throat.

Aragorn produced a vial of oil, coating a finger before sliding it rapidly into Éomer's entrance. Éomer gasped aloud, his body greedily accepting the contact. He tried to tense his muscles around the welcome invasion, but Aragorn quickly withdrew his finger, causing Éomer to whimper in protest.

Working in haste, Aragorn opened his breeches, pulling out his hard erection to coat it with the slick liquid. Éomer looked at him through a haze of lust and hunger. His erection twitched in eager anticipation.

Aragorn grabbed Éomer's buttocks and lifted his legs off the ground. He positioned Éomer carefully over his erection and entered him with one smooth thrust.

Éomer groaned as Aragorn slid into his tight heat, his entire body quaking as the hard flesh penetrated him, sizzling him from the inside. When Aragorn touched bottom, he was seized by such a powerful jolt of pleasure that he bit his lip to contain his loud cry.

Aragorn immediately set a rapid pace, pounding into Éomer. The cold wall bit into Éomer's bare back, but he was too far-gone to care. His mouth quivered, still holding back the small, needy sounds that were threatening to spill from his throat as Aragorn pumped hard into his willing body.

"You...are...mine," Aragorn growled, punctuating each word with a hard jab. "Never forget that."

"Yes, my lord," Éomer replied breathily. He never wanted this to end, never wanted to stop Aragorn impaling him, never wanted him to stop his relentless onslaught, never wanted Aragorn to stop taking what he willingly offered.

Éomer surrendered his body completely, wanting the ranger to brand him tonight, to take him until he was drained and shaking.

Aragorn acknowledged Éomer's unspoken plea. He thrust fiercely into his lover's willing body, continuing on his feverish pace as if he were possessed.

Éomer opened his eyes to look at his lord, his lover; he groaned as he locked gazes with the cobalt depths, overwhelmed by the sheer magnitude of the hunger blazing deep in Aragorn's eyes, trapping him, swallowing him up, consuming him.

Éomer felt the blood in his veins turn to molten lava, his face flushing completely, the world fading from his awareness, his entire being focused on Aragorn's hard shaft plunging inside him, taking him repeatedly, overwhelming all of his senses until he was quaking in Aragorn's grasp. Aragorn's eyes continued to drill into Éomer, claiming his soul as much as his member was claiming his body. Éomer whimpered as he fell into sweet surrender, allowing his lord to possess him completely.

Aragorn whispered, "You may come now, little one," before he angled his thrusts upward, each rapid push of his organ stroking over the heart of Éomer's pleasure. Éomer suddenly tensed every single muscle, his body trembling as if he had been struck by lightning. Aragorn claimed Éomer's lips in a bruising kiss as he continued to ravage him. The heat in Éomer's veins suddenly exploded outward in a rush as he climaxed, Aragorn's mouth swallowing his loud scream, his seed coating Aragorn's shirt.

Aragorn followed suit shortly afterward. He gasped as his shaft twitched within Éomer, splashing hot liquid inside.

Aragorn's knees sagged beneath him, and he gently untied Éomer before lowering him to the ground. Both men shivered as Aragorn pulled his semi-hard erection out. Aragorn reached into his pocket for a cloth and cleaned both of them as best as he could before he tucked his member back into his breeches.

Éomer's senses cleared and he looked into the hallway, worried. Aragorn laughed softly.

"Legolas is keeping an eye on the corridor, melme. He would have alerted us if anyone came near," he said.

Éomer smiled. "You always think of everything, my lord," he replied. He looked down ruefully at his shredded clothes. "Although these are not usable now."

Aragorn picked up his cloak and handed it to Éomer. Éomer eagerly donned it, inhaling Aragorn's scent of pipeweed and spice. He then walked over to retrieve his boots while Aragorn retrieved the rope.

"My cloak will cover you long enough for you to get to your quarters," Aragorn said as he re-clipped the rope to his belt. He made a peculiar whistle and Legolas soon appeared out of the shadows.

"I will escort my little one to his quarters. Delay yourself for about 20 minutes, and then go to your chambers," he said in a commanding tone of voice.

Legolas said meekly, "Yes, my lord."

"And after supper, meet us in his bedchamber."

Legolas replied deferentially, "Yes, my lord."

Aragorn put a possessive hand around Éomer's shoulders and led him through Meduseld, easily avoiding the people bustling about.

Once they reached his quarters and closed the door, Éomer said, "I fear that you will exhaust my wardrobe at this rate, my lord." He removed the elven cloak and dutifully held it open for Aragorn.

Aragorn chuckled as he stripped off his shirt. "I could say much the same for you, Éomer."

Éomer relaxed at the use of his proper name and draped the cloak over a chair. He opened his wardrobe and began to rummage for a fresh set of clothing.

Once Éomer had retrieved another tunic and some breeches, Aragorn wound his arms around him and kissed him gently on the lips.

Aragorn said, "I need to fetch a fresh set of clothing and clean up before dinner, lest we cause a scandal." Éomer nodded.

Aragorn then leaned in close and added in a conspiratorial whisper, "I plans for our fair one after dinner. Much as I would love to link your two passions, I fear that our rather vocal elf would be heard even through these thick walls. In fact, his enthusiasm could be problematic for us."

"What do you wish to do, then?" Éomer asked as quietly as he could, understanding Aragorn's caution. They did not know which path Legolas was going to take to Aragorn's chambers, and it would not do for Legolas to overhear them if he happened to pass by.

"Let me instruct you," Aragorn replied.

As his plans became clear, Éomer grinned broadly. He could hardly wait.

"I will retire to my quarters now," Aragorn said.

Éomer suddenly tensed. "Did we leave my breeches and tunic in the hallway?" He had been so giddy afterward that he had forgotten about them.

Aragorn smirked. "Ah, Éomer. You should not be so careless with your clothing."

Éomer glared at Aragorn, "Unless my memory fails me, I was not responsible for them being torn and discarded in the first place. By the Valar, they cannot be found there." He started to dress hastily, but Aragorn stopped him.

Aragorn grinned broadly. "Do not worry, Éomer. I had tasked Legolas earlier in the day with removing any trace of our presence after I was done with you."

Éomer breathed a sigh of relief. Aragorn smiled, and kissed him lightly.

"I really must take my leave now," he said.

Éomer nodded and cautiously opened his door a crack. After verifying that that the corridor was clear, he let Aragorn exit.

Once he was alone, Éomer cleaned himself off and changed into his fresh tunic and breeches. He had just finished dressing when he heard a tap at his door.

"Come in," he called.

He was surprised when Éowyn opened the door.

"May I have a moment of your time?" she asked calmly.

"You may," Éomer said.

She walked in, proud as ever, but Éomer could see the tension radiating in her body. He could also see the dread in her eyes as she closed the door behind her.

"Éomer, we still have an issue to resolve. Lord Aragorn leaves tomorrow at dawn. I ask again, will you release him?"

Éomer took a deep breath. "Éowyn, I did not have the courage to say this earlier, but Aragorn and I are in love with each other."

Her eyes went wide. "Do you swear on your vow to me?"

"Yes," he replied quietly. He braced himself for the inevitable barrage of questions.

"Brother," Éowyn said calmly, "I wish you happiness with your new love."

She saw Éomer's surprised look and continued, "This is not the appropriate time to question you. I know, more than anyone else, that you must treasure the precious moments with your beloved before they can be stolen from you."

"Thank you, sister."

"I will see you at dinner, then," she said as she left the room. As soon as Éomer's door closed, she stole off to the armory.

No one was present. As she picked out some armor for herself, she murmured, "Forgive me for deceiving you, Éomer, because I have not forgiven you. However, we need to part on the best of terms, so that my loss will not pain you."

Satisfied that she had found a suit to her liking, she hid it under a pile of rusty shields. As she walked back to Meduseld, she was lost in her own turmoil.

With Aragorn's heart claimed, I have nothing left to live for, she thought. But I will not take the cowardly way out. I will die as a warrior born, in the glory of battle, for my people and for all of Middle Earth.

Dinner was strained. Despite her earlier discussion with Éomer, Éowyn did not feel like conversing much, and she picked at her food.

To Éomer's relief, she had forced herself to relax whenever she had to talk to Aragorn or himself. Gandalf also filled in the time with speculation over Sauron's plans.

Fortunately, no one noticed that Legolas was missing. He did not dine with them the first time Aragorn had arrived at Edoras, so his absence today was not conspicuous. Only Gimli noticed, and he merely made a desultory comment on elves surviving on naught but air.

After dinner, Éomer and Aragorn left separately, joining up with each other in a little used hallway. They stopped by Aragorn's room briefly, and he grabbed his pack. The two men then silently walked down the corridor to Éomer's quarters.

As soon as the door was closed behind them, Éomer said solemnly, "I have told Éowyn about us."

Aragorn arched an eyebrow. Éomer continued, "She gives us her blessing, because our remaining time together is brief." He looked at Aragorn, barely controlling his distress.

Aragorn noticed the faint hint of strain in his lover's eyes. He kissed Éomer tenderly and said, "Hush. I swear to you that I will return."

"But...," Éomer started to say.

"Éomer, I must do this. Have faith."

Éomer reluctantly nodded.

"Now, purge that thought from your mind so that it will not mar this evening."

"As you wish, Aragorn."

"We will begin now, little one," Aragorn said, his voice pitching down to a snarl. "Strip."

Happy for the distraction, Éomer quickly removed his clothes. After he was done, Aragorn followed suit, discarding his garments in a corner.

"Sit on the bed for now," Aragorn commanded. Éomer nodded, climbing into his four-poster bed. "Once our fair one arrives, you may pleasure yourself whilst you remain on the bed, but nowhere else."

"Yes, my lord," Éomer replied.

Soon, Aragorn heard a short tap at the door followed by two longer ones, the signal that he and Legolas had used for many years.

Aragorn opened it quietly. Legolas elegantly stepped in and walked over to the middle of the room, keeping his eyes lowered.

Once the door was closed and bolted, Aragorn turned to Legolas and said, "Remove your clothes, seldo, and then kneel on the floor."

Legolas eagerly complied. He swiftly stripped, his arousal evident by the bulge outlined on the front of his breeches and the desire burning in his sapphire eyes. Once he was naked, he knelt on the floor as ordered, keeping his head bowed.

Aragorn looked at Éomer. "Stay on the bed until I need you," he commanded. Éomer nodded.

Aragorn reached into his pack and pulled out a strip of black silk, a short piece of rope, and a jar of salve. He carefully laid everything out on a small table by the side of the bed. Once Aragorn was finished, he remained by the table and turned toward Legolas.

He said softly, "Come over here."

Legolas crawled over, moving with pure catlike grace, his lithe muscles sliding under his alabaster skin. Éomer felt his body tingling at the sight, and he saw that Aragorn had become hard again.

"Hands behind your back," Aragorn said huskily. Again, Legolas obeyed the soft spoken command, crossing his wrists behind him.

Aragorn tied Legolas' arms with the soft cotton rope. He then knotted the black silk over Legolas' eyes, and took two steps back.

"Now," purred Aragorn, "lick me." Legolas crept forward on his knees, using his other senses to guide him. When he could feel that Aragorn was close, he leaned forward, following the musky scent of Aragorn's arousal and sensing the heat radiating from his erection.

Legolas smiled as he felt springy hairs tickling his cheek. He moved closer and buried his face in the nest of curls, hearing a contented sigh from Aragorn as he did so. He slid his head around slowly, and soon he felt his cheek bumping against Aragorn's member. He rubbed the side of his face along the hard length, knowing that Aragorn enjoyed the feel of his satiny skin.

He was rewarded with a soft murmur above him. Encouraged, Legolas snaked his tongue out and wrapped it around Aragorn's organ.

Éomer gasped, feeling the blood rush to his groin as he watched Legolas' tongue swirl its way up the seam of Aragorn's sex. When Legolas reached the tip, he paused briefly before he swallowed the length deep in his throat, causing a hiss of pleasure to erupt from Aragorn.

As Legolas suckled Aragorn, Éomer reached down to stroke himself, his body shivering at the delicious picture in front of him. He drank in the sight of Legolas kneeling in front of his lord: hands bound behind him, the small line of black silk enhancing the smooth alabaster perfection of his skin, rump arched in the air as he lavished attention on Aragorn's member.

Aragorn gestured at Éomer. Éomer climbed off the bed and knelt down behind Legolas, looking at Aragorn inquiringly.

Aragorn nodded. Éomer skated his fingertips over the pale, sensitive flesh of Legolas' inner thighs. He saw a small shudder quiver through the pale body, and Legolas briefly paused to voice a muffled sigh.

"I did not tell you to stop," Aragorn said. "You will have to be reprimanded, seldo."

He grabbed a handful of silky hair, locking Legolas' head in place. Aragorn caught Éomer's eye and held up five fingers. Legolas could not see the gesture, but he quivered in anticipation, as if he was sensing what was to come next.

Éomer swatted Legolas' rump with the lightest of slaps, barely enough to do more than sting slightly. Legolas gave a muffled cry around Aragorn's hardness, followed swiftly by a muted sound of pleasure as Éomer ran his hand over the spot he just struck.

Éomer waited until Legolas' back began to arch before he swatted him again, this time a little harder. Legolas made a small noise in his throat and pushed his buttocks back as Éomer again stroked over the small hurt.

Éomer continued, building each slap gradually, each blow more sound than actual impact. Legolas' small yelps were contained by Aragorn's length in his mouth. Éomer watched the lithe body shiver and arch with pleasure each time his hand connected with Legolas' sweet flesh, causing his own body to tremble in response. He looked at Aragorn, and saw that he was not immune to Legolas' reactions: the depths of the cobalt-blue eyes were seething with lust.

After the fifth blow, Éomer stroked his hand slowly over Legolas' silky skin. He felt a slight warmth coming off the pale globes, and his light touches caused Legolas to whimper around Aragorn's member.

Aragorn said sternly as he released Legolas' head, "Now seldo, resume your task. And do not stop until I give you leave to."

Legolas made a muffled reply and began suckling again, swirling his tongue over Aragorn's heated length. Aragorn caught Éomer's eye and nodded meaningfully.

Éomer leaned forward, pressing his erection up against the cleft of Legolas' buttocks. He draped his body up against the satiny back and bound wrists.

He felt Legolas tremble slightly beneath him, but the golden head continued to bob back and forth. Éomer saw Legolas hollowing his cheeks and slowly pulling his mouth off Aragorn's erection before devouring it again.

Éomer lightly blew his hot breath over the pale shell of Legolas' ear. He heard Legolas inhale sharply, but his exquisite lips continued on their task. Éomer touched his tongue to the whorl and slowly traced upward, smiling as he saw Legolas shaking. He sucked on the sensitive point, while grinding his hips against the firm rump beneath him.

Legolas pushed his hips back against Éomer, making several muffled groans. However, his pace remained unbroken, almost as if he was goading Éomer to try harder. Éomer grinned and decided to redouble his efforts.

He slowly trailed his tongue down Legolas' ear and the side of his neck. When he reached the juncture at Legolas' shoulder, he pressed his hot tongue against it, tracing a lazy spiral.

Legolas' groans were muffled as Éomer's tongue danced over his quaking flesh. He was still continuing his ministrations, keeping his pace unbroken, cheekily grinding his backside in a small circle against Éomer's organ, daring Éomer to break his concentration.

Éomer smiled at the silent challenge. He ran his fingernails firmly over the pale flesh of Legolas' spine, his bound wrists, and his buttocks, leaving faint red trails in their wake. Legolas responded with a muffled cry, but he was still intent on pleasuring Aragorn.

Determined to best Legolas, Éomer parted the alabaster cheeks and blew lightly on the cleft. He grinned in triumph when heard Legolas' breath hitch and saw his body tense in anticipation.

He circled his tongue around Legolas' entrance. Legolas' flesh was sweet everywhere, and Éomer had to control himself from eagerly lapping at the sensitive skin. Instead, he continued his leisurely pace, his tongue slowly tracing around the tiny opening. Legolas groaned around Aragorn's flesh, but he was still suckling at a constant pace.

Let us see how long your control lasts, Éomer thought as he jabbed his tongue inside the heated passage.

Legolas convulsed and he mewled around Aragorn's erection, pausing to shudder at the exquisite sensation.

"Hold," Aragorn barked out.

Éomer sat back, and he saw Legolas' cheeks flush with embarrassment. The lithe body trembled, knowing what was to come next.

Aragorn locked his hands in the flaxen hair again and said balefully, "You did not have leave to stop, seldo. Your punishment will now be twice as much."

He gestured at Éomer with five fingers again.

Éomer nodded. The first swat had more force than the last of the previous five. He again paused between each blow, letting Legolas absorb them, watching the pale buttocks warm and redden. Legolas moaned around Aragorn's length, his lord's thick member an effective gag for his startled yelps.

After the fifth swat, Aragorn growled, "Now, try again."

Obediently, Legolas took Aragorn deep in his throat. Éomer heard Aragorn hiss in satisfaction as his throbbing flesh was swallowed. He was amazed at his lover's control, knowing that Legolas' skillful mouth could undo anyone quickly.

Aragorn gestured at Éomer to resume. Éomer parted Legolas' warm cheeks and thrust his tongue into the small entrance, stabbing it as if he was using his member. Legolas' muffled cries grew in intensity he pushed back against Éomer's plundering tongue. However, Legolas' pace remained unbroken, his slight body trembling with the effort of maintaining his attention on Aragorn.

"Stop," Aragorn eventually said.

Éomer pulled away, aching with need. Even though Legolas' sweet cries were muffled, they still struck a cord of passion deep within him. Aragorn eased Legolas off his organ and pulled him up to stand.

"That was very good. Now you may have your reward," he purred before he devoured Legolas' mouth, pressing his large body against Legolas until they melted against each other.

Aragorn grabbed Legolas under the buttocks and lifted his slender form while they were still kissing. Walking over to the low table, he carefully balanced Legolas with one arm while he used the other to casually sweep the scrolls aside. He then carefully lowered Legolas on top of it, making sure that his bound hands were not at an uncomfortable angle. Legolas squirmed as he tried to get comfortable. His head and buttocks barely fit along the length of the wooden top.

Aragorn knelt astride Legolas' chest and he traced his weeping erection slowly over the pink aureoles, leaving a trail of moisture. Legolas whimpered softly as the cooling liquid caused the sensitive skin to pull into pebbled nubs. Aragorn lazily traced his way up, finally nudging his erection against Legolas' delicate lips, teasing his lover.

Éomer groaned as he watched the two of them together, the erotic sight leaving him weak inside. He longed to reach down and stroke himself, but he didn't want to countermand Aragorn's instructions.

Legolas opened his mouth, and Aragorn sucked in his breath as Legolas opened his mouth and wrapped his tongue around the purple head. Aragorn slowly nudged his way forward, hissing in pleasure as Legolas swallowed his length.

Aragorn looked at Éomer and said, "Come here, little one." Éomer eagerly joined them, grabbing the jar of salve as he walked by. He took his position at the other end of the table—the edge of it was just at knee height.

"Prepare him," Aragorn commanded. Éomer nodded, coating his fingers with the salve. He slowly circled a slick digit around Legolas' entrance, listening to the muted sounds of pleasure. Aragorn rocked his hips, thrusting his stiff erection within Legolas' wet heat, stifling any sounds that might spill from his lips. Aragorn growled as Legolas' tongue continued to lave his organ.

Éomer eased his finger inside, his erection weeping as Legolas' muffled cries became more frantic. He pushed another finger in, blood rushing at the sound of the silenced groans from the head of the table. Aragorn looked at Éomer and held up a crooked finger. Nodding, Éomer slid in a third finger and curled them forward.

"Urmph!" Legolas cried out around Aragorn's member, the lithe body arching off the table as if he were electrified. Éomer continued to stroke the center of Legolas' pleasure, watching Legolas writhe under his ministrations. Legolas thrashed from side to side, his bonds preventing him from clawing the table, his loud mewls cut off by Aragorn's hips still rocking back and forth and filling his mouth.

Aragorn caught Éomer's eye, and gestured towards the opposite end of the table. Éomer nodded, and after stroking his fingers one more time over the small gland, he pulled them out. Simultaneously, Aragorn popped his organ out of Legolas' mouth. Legolas made a soft cry of complaint, his voice heavy with need and unfulfilled lust.

"Hush," Aragorn said soothingly, stroking the silky locks.

Éomer put the salve down on the table and walked around to the opposite end. While Éomer was rearranging his position, Aragorn blazed a path down Legolas' torso with hot, fevered kisses, simultaneously moving downward until his hips were poised over Legolas' erection. He paused, hovering just above Legolas' twitching member. Legolas tossed his head from side to side and raised his buttocks slightly, questing for more contact.

"Patience," Aragorn said.

Éomer was now standing behind Legolas' head. Aragorn nodded, and Éomer grasped Legolas' slender shoulders. Éomer tugged the slight body towards him, sliding Legolas' shoulders off the edge. Still holding Legolas, he lowered himself until he was sitting upright on his knees. He cradled the pale head and neck carefully in his hands. Legolas' spider-silk fine hair spilled over Éomer's forearms, caressing his sensitized flesh, and the softness of the blindfold rubbed enticingly over his rough hands. He slowly positioned Legolas so that the delicate mouth was just below his groin.

Aragorn began coating his turgid flesh with the salve. Éomer heard Legolas moan softly, and he saw the golden head turning slightly as he tried to discern what Aragorn was doing.

"Your sharp ears hear me stroking myself, do they not, seldo?" Aragorn husked. Legolas nodded mutely, body tense as a well strung bow. Aragorn pulled Legolas' willowy legs up until they were resting on his broad shoulders. Éomer let his arms lower slightly, until Legolas was at a declining angle.

Éomer nudged Legolas with his hard erection and murmured, "Open for me, my sweet." Legolas parted his pink lips hungrily, wrapping his mouth around Éomer's weeping member. Éomer leisurely slid in, feeling Legolas' wet heat around his throbbing flesh.

Legolas' inverted position forced his throat to relax, and Éomer moaned as he buried himself to the hilt in the moist depths. Losing control of his body, he began to thrust into Legolas' eager mouth, feeling his lover skillfully suckle him on each down stroke.

Aragorn braced his arms on either side of Legolas' waist, positioning his hard erection at Legolas' entrance. Legolas' breathing hitched, and he murmured quietly around Éomer's organ.

Aragorn plunged into the slim form swiftly. Legolas arched up, making small, strangled sounds, his cries cut off by Éomer's member deep in his throat.

Aragorn began thrusting, his muscles bulging as he held himself over Legolas' lean form. Éomer fell into his rhythm, pushing into the willing, hot mouth as Aragorn was pulling himself back, filling Legolas at alternate ends with each stroke. Legolas arched and writhed; his loud mewls muffled by Éomer's flesh.

Aragorn began thrusting faster, causing the table to vibrate. Éomer matched Aragorn's speed, the two of them relentlessly filling Legolas with a push-pull motion, sweat glistening on their skin from their efforts.

Legolas' cries changed to muffled keens, his lithe form convulsing as if a dark force possessed him. He arched his back and wrapped his long legs behind Aragorn's neck, trying to return the force of Aragorn's pounding. It was a futile effort. Éomer and Aragorn had him completely captured, and all he could do was to surrender to them as they pleasured themselves with his body.

Éomer was reduced to mindless need as he buried himself deep in Legolas' wet heat. Legolas squirmed against his bonds, his cries vibrating against Éomer's hard member. Éomer felt the pressure coiling deep within him, his entire hold on reality centered on the moist softness enclosing him, wrapping tight around his shaft and tugging on him.

Aragorn said thickly, "Éomer, are you close?"

Éomer breathed, "Yes, my lord."

Aragorn jabbed Legolas deeply, causing him to mewl again. Aragorn then panted out, "Stay still and brace the table."

Éomer slid his arms underneath Legolas' body and grasped the edge of the table. Aragorn began pumping into Legolas in earnest, his breath becoming ragged and short, the impact of his thrusts shoving and pulling the delicious moist depths over Éomer's member. The muscles in Éomer's arms bulged as he kept the table from moving under the force of Aragorn's pounding.

Legolas' muffled keens were now drawn out to a single note, the vibrations shaking deep within Éomer's flesh. Aragorn gasped out, "Come for me, both of you," as Legolas' body completely tensed, each muscle standing out in sharp relief as he arched upward, his seed spilling out in pearly strands onto his pale stomach. Legolas' muffled screams echoed around Éomer's erection. Éomer groaned loudly, becoming undone by the delicious reverberations, his entire being unraveling as he climaxed.

Aragorn's thrusts soon became more frantic and less rhythmic. He moaned loudly, shuddering as he found his release deep with his beloved.

Éomer withdrew from Legolas' mouth, quaking as his wet member cooled in the air. He felt the floor swaying underneath him, he collapsed down fully onto his knees, letting Legolas' head rest on his thighs.

Aragorn panted out heavily, "Untie him, little one." Éomer reached up and untied the slender wrists. Legolas undid his blindfold, tossing the scrap of silk aside. Legolas pulled his legs down and coiled them around Aragorn's waist. He then curled his body upwards until he was sitting up on Aragorn's thighs, the two of them still joined. He wrapped his arms around Aragorn, hugging him tightly.

"I couldn't wish for a better thank you," Legolas said softly, brushing the sweat-plastered strands of hair out of Aragorn's face. "Amin mela lle."

"Amin mela lle," Aragorn replied as he kissed the delicate lips.

Aragorn caught his breath and slowly slid out of Legolas with a throaty groan. He half-climbed, half-fell off the table and collapsed onto one of the fur rugs, dragging a giggling Legolas down with him. Éomer dizzily crawled over, joining the pile of tangled arms and legs.

The three of them cuddled together, basking in the afterglow. "I love you," Éomer said reverently to Aragorn.

"I love you," Aragorn replied before he gave Éomer a gentle, caresssing kiss.

After a while, Éomer said, "The elves are truly wondrous creatures. After all of that exertion, Legolas has not a single drop of sweat marring his fair skin."

Aragorn smiled. "If I remember right, we were the ones providing the majority of the exertion."

Éomer replied, "By the Valar, you are right. My thoughts have taken leave of my body."

Aragorn said, "Do not trouble yourself over it, my love. I have yet to see a bead form, despite my best efforts." He stroked the white-gold locks. "At least his hair is in some disarray."

Legolas replied, "Then perhaps it would please my lord if I rise post haste to straighten it." He tried to get up, but was dragged down by two sets of large hands.

"Nay, seldo. You shall stay here until I decide that I tire of this floor. Then you shall heat some water and bathe the two of us. And then all of us should retire to bed," Aragorn said resolutely.

"I could not agree with my lord's plan more," Éomer added.

Legolas said meekly, "As you wish, my lord."

Éomer smiled. He could not think of a lovelier way to end this night.

Close to dawn, Éomer stirred to wakefulness, nestled between his lover and his beloved. He tenderly studied their faces, memorizing every curve and nuance, knowing that this may be their last time together.

Far too shortly, Aragorn opened his eyes and whispered, "It is time."

The three of them rose out of bed soundlessly, and dressed in silence. Éomer looked at Legolas and Aragorn sadly.

"My love," he said softly, resting the back of his hand on the side on Aragorn's face. "Be safe on your journey." Aragorn tenderly kissed his fingertips.

"I will, melda-nin," Aragorn said quietly, before he leaned forward to claim Éomer's lips in a fierce kiss. They parted and gazed lovingly into each other's eyes.

Reluctantly, Éomer unwound himself from Aragorn's embrace.

He approached Legolas and kissed him gently. "My sweet, I trust you to ever guard Aragorn's back."

Legolas said melodically, "I will. And we will be reunited, melethron, I promise you that."

Éomer said, "I will always keep an eye on the horizon, anticipating your return."

Legolas said, "Before we leave, we wish to give you something to remember us by."

He reached into his pack and pulled out a small ring. Legolas then carefully placed it in Éomer's palm. Several locks of hair had been braided together to make it, and Éomer easily recognized the alternating colors of raven and white-gold.

"Words fail me. I will cherish this always," he said, trying to control the shaking in his voice.

Aragorn and Legolas leaned in and shared a sweet three-way kiss with him, their tongues gently playing and tangling with each other.

When they finally parted, Aragorn said grimly, "And now we must resume our charade."

Aragorn and Legolas listened at the door and nodded when they heard no activity. Éomer quietly unbolted the door and let them slip out so that they could return to their respective chambers.

He waited until dawn broke before he walked over to the guest quarters in his armor. He knocked on Aragorn's door. The ranger greeted him dressed in his armor, looking heart-achingly beautiful.

"Aragorn, I would like to wish you good luck on your journey. May I see you and your companions off?" Éomer said evenly, even as he felt his stomach sink.

"It would be an honor, Éomer," Aragorn replied. They gathered Gimli and Legolas before they walked out to the stables.

Éomer saddled Firefoot, trying to keep his hands from shaking as he did so. He felt himself dying inside, but he maintained his composure while he escorted the trio to the gates of Edoras.

Far too soon, they reached their goal. "May the spirit of Eorl watch over you on your journey," Éomer said solemnly. He ached to wrap his arms around Aragorn's large body one last time, but he resisted the urge.

"May the Valar smile upon you in Gondor," Aragorn replied. "Farewell, Éomer."

Legolas said softly, "Namarie, Éomer."

Gimli said, "I wish you well, lad. Now let's be off!"

Aragorn and Legolas nodded. They kicked Brego and Arod into a full gallop and rode away, never looking back. Éomer watched them until they disappeared from his view. Once they were gone, he guided Firefoot to the stables, feeling numb.

He carefully walked back to his room, and once the door was safely closed and bolted, he allowed the tears to spill from his eyes.

The end

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