Discovering Fear
by Dhvana

Aragorn kept a close eye on Legolas as they separated their dead from those of the Uruk-hai. Each time the archer picked up another fallen Elf, Legolas grew a little paler, his eyes a little wider, until Aragorn could have sworn there was nothing left but those stunned blue orbs. It wasn't until they found Haldir that Aragorn truly grew afraid for his friend. Legolas just sat there, cradling the Lorien Elf whose red blood was nearly indistinguishable against the red of his cloak, his armor marred by dirt and the foul blood of the Uruk-Hai. As the stricken Elf gazed down at the still face, the Ranger wondered for a moment if he ever intended to let Haldir go.

"Legolas," Aragorn said softly as he placed a hand on his friend's shoulder, instantly concerned by the way the slender body was trembling. Legolas glanced up at him, his face filled with a horror that made Aragorn shudder, and then he looked back down at the body in his arms. Slowly, Legolas reached out and closed Haldir's eyes, Aragorn's heart wrenching in his chest as the Elf's sight was darkened forever.

"Can you imagine what it must have been like?" Legolas asked softly.

"What?" Aragorn responded, kneeling down next to him.

"The last view to reach his eyes was that of Elves lying dead, their bodies discarded amongst the enemy, abandoned, forgotten."

"They are not forgotten!" Aragorn protested.

"But to him, they were. He didn't know we would be saved. All he saw was the overwhelming loss of Elven life, lives he had led here only to be stolen by the darkness, and he must have wondered why they were sent here if there was no hope."

"Because there is always hope," Aragorn answered, his voice quiet, but certain. "Do no despair, my friend, especially not now, when we need you the most."

The Elf sighed as he glanced at the Ranger. "My heart faltered before the battle and for that, I am sorry, but as I hold the bodies of my kin, I cannot help but feel lost. How can I hope, when hope did not save Haldir, or any of the others? You must carry our hope, Estel, for I have none left."

Legolas then rose to his feet with Haldir in his arms, stumbling a moment in his grief and exhaustion. Aragorn reached out to help him, but he shied away form the Human's touch.

"I know he was your friend, Aragorn," Legolas said, his voice filled with such sorrow that Aragorn felt tears prick his eyes, "but I must do this alone."

The Ranger hesitated a moment, then nodded. "If you need me, I will come."

"Thank you," Legolas said, then turned and walked slowly down the stairs to the base of the rampart. There, he was joined by the Elves who had survived the battle of Helm's Deep and, with Haldir in his arms, he led them to the field where they had gathered their fallen companions.

Even though they were surrounded by their own loss and devastation, they people of the Rohan all stopped what they were doing and watched the mournful column of Elves, whose beauty was ravaged by despair as they prepared to say farewell to their dead. Just when Aragorn thought he couldn't feel any more pain, Legolas lifted his head and began to sing, the other Elves quickly lending their voices to his lament. The sound brought Aragorn to his knees, and though the Men around him could not understand the words, their faces were soon wet with tears.

"I cannot help but feel as if we had lost today, listening to that song," Gimli said from where he was standing next to him.

"Any death is a loss, but to Elves, it is a pain that we can never understand. You and I expect to die someday. They are not supposed to die at all."

"The poor lad," Gimli sighed, rubbing a fist against his eye to wipe away a stray tear. "It sounds as if his heart is breaking."

"It is," Aragorn whispered. "Legolas has lived for almost three thousand years. In all that time, he has never once had to witness the death of another Elf. In the past few hours, he has witnessed the deaths of dozens. I do not think his heart understands how to handle that much pain."

"Then we should go to him," Gimli said, his voice gruff with emotion.

"Not yet," Aragorn said, shaking his head as he placed a hand on the Dwarf's arm. "He needs to grieve with his own kind for now. They will help each other to endure their loss."

"Hmph," Gimli grunted, not liking this at all. As far as he was concerned, their Elf needed the comfort of his friends. But, Aragorn knew their ways better than he did, and he would just have to trust the Ranger's word.

Though they couldn't be with him, the Dwarf and the Man stood on the wall in silence, sending their love and support to their Elf with their eyes as they watched the fire that consumed the Elvish dead burn throughout the night. They never noticed the figure behind them, who had been listening to their conversation, disappear into the shadows.

"You're a fool," Éomer told himself as he crept out towards the filed where the Elves had gathered. "Turn back now, before you get yourself killed."

But he didn't turn back. Hiding behind an outcropping of rock, he watched the Elves, their eyes nearly as lifeless as those being consumed by the flames. Each one continued to sing until their voices vanished, and then they held each other, watching the fire burn low as they waited for the dawn. They all sought comfort in each other's arms or in simply being near each other as they stared silently into the night, all the Elves, that is, save one. He broke apart from his kind, detaching himself from the glow that had surrounded the sorrowful people as others of their kind throughout Middle Earth sensed their loss.

Legolas knew he should stay, that he needed the understanding and love of his own kind, but the pain was too great and their silence oppressive. Perhaps it was due to the time he had been spending with other races, but all he wanted to do was lash out, to give direction to his rage. If there had been any Orcs or Uruk-hai in the area, he would have sought them out and beaten them with his fists until there wasn't any skin left on his hands. However, the enemy had fled to regroup elsewhere, and he was left with this fire burning inside of him and no way to release it. He felt as if he were about to go mad.

Éomer followed behind Legolas, holding back as the Elf paused a good distance from his kind and began pacing back and forth, muttering to himself in his own language. Finally, he sank to his knees on the ground still wet from the previous night's rain. Throwing his head back, he let out a shout of such fury and sorrow and frustration that Éomer took a few steps back before he realized what he was doing and forced himself to stand still. He couldn't take his eyes off the Elf, a figure of wretched beauty as he loosed the cry of his heart into the night. When his lungs had no more air left to give, Legolas fell forward. His forehead resting against the earth, one hand clutched the mud in a fist as the other clawed at the damp ground.

The Rohirrim stood there for a moment, uncertain as to what to do. Should he try to comfort him? he wondered, then shook his head. He didn't know what to say that would offer any relief to that kind of agony. Already, he felt he was intruding on the Elf's grief and told himself he should go, but his feet refused to move, so he remained standing, watching and waiting.

"What do you want, Man of Rohan?" a voice asked, and it took a moment for Éomer to realize the voice was coming from Legolas, that the tortured eyes had focused on him though the golden head remained resting on the ground.

"I apologize," the warrior said, backing up. "I did not mean to disturb you."

"You followed me here for a reason—what was it?"

"It's not important. It can wait until..." Éomer paused, realizing the absurdity of what he was about to say.

"Until my grief passes? But it will not pass. You know this—it is why you stopped, so you might as well say what it is you came here to say."

Legolas pushed himself up from the ground, his voice heavy with weariness as he spoke. His hair was tangled and clumped together with mud, his bare skin seeming even more pale when marred by the ashes of his people. Éomer didn't notice any of this. He saw only the brilliance of Legolas's eyes and was lost in the depths of emotion he found there.

"Well?" the Elf said, sounding more tired than irritated, and Éomer cleared his throat.

"I was simply going to apologize for the way I treated you when we first met. Considering all you and your kind have done for me and mine, that we wouldn't even be here if it wasn't for the Elves, I realize how great an offense it was and I am sorry."

Legolas sighed and lifted himself onto his feet, wavering for a moment until he found his balance. "There is no apology needed, Rider of the Mark. If I had been in your place, I most likely would have done the same. Spies of Saruman are not so easy to discern in these times, and you were wise not to trust us."

"Please," Éomer pleaded, the sympathy he felt for this tormented creature causing him to reach for the Elf, "there must be something I can do to make amends. You have suffered so much for us."

"Your people have suffered no less. You should return to them and leave me to my suffering," Legolas said as he began walking away from the Man.

"Where are you going?" Éomer asked, rushing forward till he reached the Elf.

"To wash away the dirt of your land and the blood of my people. It would only upset my friends to see me like this," he said, glancing down at his filth-covered body.

"Then I shall join you," the warrior said, then turned bright red as Legolas arched an eyebrow at him, and he hurried to explain. "No one should wander off alone. We don't know what kind of stragglers the enemy has left behind."

Legolas hesitated a moment, then nodded. "Very well."

They walked together in silence until reaching a small stream far enough away from the battle that its waters remained unpolluted.

Slumping down near the water's edge, Legolas clumsily tugged at his boots until they came off, then began working on untangling the braids from his hair, but found his fingers didn't want to cooperate. Éomer watched for a few minutes, then couldn't take the pitiable sight any longer.

"May I?" he asked, sitting down behind him, and Legolas nodded numbly.

"My arms seem to weigh too much for me to lift them," he said with a sad attempt at a smile.

Éomer worked quickly to free the pale gold strands, finding himself distracted by how soft Legolas's hair was even when caked with blood and dirt. He remembered how it had looked when they had first met, shining brightly in the sun, and was eager to see it returned to its natural state.

"Thank you, " Legolas said gently once Éomer had finished and began pulling at his shirt. This time, the Man didn't even ask as he helped lift the cloth over the Elf's head. "Again, I thank you."

Legolas rose to his feet and slowly, almost painfully, pushed his leggings down his the length of his legs. Stepping out of them, he waded into the shallow stream. Once he had reached the center of the stream, he eased himself into the water and lay down, allowing the water to wash over him. It was only a couple of inches deep, so he was able to relax and allow himself to be cleansed by the running water without ever having to move.

Éomer had turned away when Legolas first stood up to give the Elf his privacy, but couldn't resist sneaking a glance at the alabaster skin glowing in the moonlight, shadows accentuating the lean muscles, though he knew the darker ones were bruises from battle. He was mesmerized by the Elf's beauty, finding it difficult to look away even when the blue eyes turned to him.

"You should join me," the voice said, rising over the murmur of the stream. "You look as if you have your own troubles to wash away."

Glancing down at himself, Éomer could only nod. He, too, was covered in the stains of battle.

"Perhaps I should," he said, and quickly undressed, his skin flushing beneath the Elf's scrutiny. Kneeling down with his feet in the stream, he began splashing water on himself to rid his skin of a week's worth of grime. Though he could scrub his body clean, his hair was another matter, and mere handfuls would take forever to clean it.

"Immerse yourself in the water as I have done," Legolas said after a few minutes of watching Éomer losing the struggle with his dark gold mane. "It's much quicker to get it wet all at once instead of with just handfuls."

Eyeing the cold water with a hint of reluctance, he eventually did as ordered. Once he was in the stream, he was surprised at how good it felt to have the water rushing against his bare skin. Closing his eyes, he felt as if he were floating away, wondering for only a second if he could drift out to sea and away from the horrors of the future.

Even as he was dreaming of escape, something brushed his lips and his eyes flew open to find Legolas leaning over him. He stared at the Elf with wonder as the beautiful creature bent down to kiss him again. The Elf's lips were soft, so very soft, but at the same time, so demanding. He felt as if Legolas was trying to draw out his lifeforce from him through his mouth.

"What are you doing?" he whispered, though he made no movement to push the Elf away.

Legolas was quiet for a moment, then his eyes dropped. "I'm burning, Éomer. There is a fire inside of me that wants to take me, to spread throughout my entire body until there is nothing left of me but ash," he said, then added in a broken voice, "like them. I don't know what to do, I don't know how to stop it, but I know that I must feel something, anything, or it will consume me. Help me, Éomer."

Éomer gazed into the sapphire eyes directly above him, and nodded. There was no way his heart would allow him to deny the Elf's desperate plea.

"Thank you," Legolas said, and kissed him again.

Indeed, even if he had wanted to say no, his body never would have been able to reject the handsome Elf, his blood already quickening at the other's nearness. Without their mouths ever breaking contact, Legolas straddled the Human, the Elf's bare skin rubbing against his. It was clear there was no affection in his kiss, no tenderness, no warmth except for the heat of arousal. Legolas only wanted to lose himself in the Human, and the resulting hunger in the Elf's passion sent the blood straight to Éomer's groin, causing him to moan softly into Legolas's mouth.

The nimble fingers began working their way down the warrior's chest, massaging the tight muscles. The archer teased his nipples until they were swollen and sore, the Human's body shivering with anticipation. The Elf, however, wasn't in the mood to play. The purpose of his actions had been to manipulate Éomer into full hardness. Having succeeded, he lifted himself up and maneuvered his body until the tip of Éomer's cock brushed his opening.

"No!" the warrior said, reaching up to grab the Elf's hips, his eyes wide with concern. "You cannot—you're not ready!"

"I don't care," Legolas said in a flat voice and thrust himself down onto Éomer's waiting manhood. The Human's cry came unbidden at the ecstasy of the Elf's tight heat surrounding him, his voice joined by that of Legolas, who was crying out in pain. The sound of his pain, however, quickly became whimpers of pleasure as he moved upon the warrior's cock, their motions sending the stream splashing around them.

Éomer would have liked to help, to do anything to ease the Elf's way, but Legolas pushed his hands aside and he could do nothing but watch the beauty writhing above him. The deep blue eyes were squeezed shut as his mouth opened and closed with alternating gasps of delight and agony. The hands that were balanced on Éomer's chest clenched into claws, the nails digging into his skin and nearly breaking it, but softening at the last second.

Legolas rode the Human hard and fast, directing himself so that Éomer's shaft hit the tiny gland every time. He was determined to feel as much as he possibly could, to send as many sensations running to his brain so he could block out everything else. Just as he was starting to lose himself in the diversion, it was over.

He screamed, his body jolting with his release, the resulting constriction bringing Éomer over the edge as well. The world turned black and he collapsed upon the Human.

It took Éomer a moment to blink the stars from his eyes before he realized that the Elf was unconscious. "Legolas!" he shouted and stood up, lifting the limp form into his arms and carrying him to the shore. Placing him carefully on the land, he began to lightly pat the Elf's cheeks. "Legolas, wake up! Come on, come back to me."

The eyes, now dark as night, fluttered open and he awoke, inhaling sharply as if he had forgotten how to breathe. His eyes were frantic as he tried to sit up, but Éomer pushed him back down. "You're not going anywhere. Just relax, rest, breathe."

The warrior turned to find the shirt he had abandoned earlier, and when he looked back, Legolas was shaking, his face buried in his hands. Éomer's heart grew heavy with sorrow as he witnessed the weeping of the Elf, and he gently wrapped his shirt around the body wracked with tears.

"Shh..." he whispered as he enveloped Legolas and drew him close, slowly rocking him back and forth. The archer grabbed hold of the warrior and held on as if he was falling and Éomer was his only anchor. "Shh... It'll be all right. Just let me help you."

Legolas shook his head. "You can't help," he said, his voice rough with anguish. "No one can."

"There must be something I can do to ease your burden."

The Elf chuckled grimly as he wiped the dampness from his face. "My burden? Why should you care for my burden? What about yours? You have lost friends and family—this battle was terrible for you as well. Why is your burden less heavy than mine?"

"It isn't," Éomer said softly, looking back over his shoulder at the top of the Hornburg rising above the hill. He thought of the mournful return that awaited him, the reminders of the past and the dread of the future, and a shiver ran down his spine. "But I have had to face the loss of friends and family all my life. Each new death is as painful as the last, but somehow, I have learned not to let their deaths crush me."

"How?" Legolas asked, looking at him with empty eyes.

Éomer was quiet for a moment as he searched for the words to explain the impossible. "I wish I could tell you. I wish there was a simple solution to overcoming loss, but there isn't. I know it must be worse for you," he said, tightening his arms around the Elf. "You've never had to understand death until now."

"It isn't the understanding that troubles me," Legolas said, his voice edged with horror. "It is the fear. I'm afraid for myself, for my people. I find I no longer wonder what the next day will bring. Instead, I wonder how many of us will live to see it. How can I protect my people from something that was never meant to touch us?"

"You can't, unless you send them away."

Legolas sighed, resting his head on Éomer's chest. "I have thought of that and am tempted to do so, but the war has just begun. Many will be saved if the Elves remain, but how many Elves will be lost? Perhaps I should make it their decision. They've been through the first battle, they know the risks. If they choose to leave, I will not try to stop them."

"But should they choose to stay, your burden will not grow lighter. Indeed, it will only increase in weight."

"That is my choice. So long as my friends need me, I will remain." Legolas glanced up at the Human, his lips unfurling into a gentle smile. "Thank you, Éomer. You have just helped me discover the center around which my dilemma circles."

"And what is that?"

"I see now that my heart is being governed by two forces: my loyalty to my friends and my loyalty to my people. In choosing one, there is a chance I will lose the other, and I am afraid to make that decision."

"But you don't have to. Your friends will never ask you to do anything that would cause you pain, and if your people choose to stay, they do so of their own free will. You may continue to feel responsible for them, but ultimately, the decision is theirs. If they do not survive, your conscience is clear."

"Is that how you feel about your men? You feel responsible for them, but no guilt if they should die?"

"So long as I have done everything in my power to keep them alive, I do not feel guilt, only sadness for their loss."

Legolas thought on Éomer's words as he absently traced little patterns on the Human's bare skin. Speaking with the warrior had done much to relieve some of the turmoil in his mind and the grief pounding at his heart. He was also beginning to understand just how difficult life must be for mortals and how important it was that Men win this war. They deserved a chance to live their lives without this constant fear of death by the hands of the forces of darkness.

Éomer shifted uncomfortably beneath him, and Legolas became aware that the Human's skin had grown quite warm to the touch. In fact, he noticed that something else had grown as well, and Legolas smiled. Their frenzied coupling earlier could not have been very satisfying for the lovely Man, and though he had not set out that night with the intention of seducing the young warrior, his intentions had suddenly changed. He let his fingers drift idly down the taut stomach and, as they reached the golden curls between the strong legs, Éomer's hand grabbed his.

Before the Human could voice his protest, Legolas pushed him to the ground and silenced his lips with a kiss. Within seconds, Éomer had forgotten any objections he was going to make as Legolas invaded his mouth, the Elf's hand stroking him into full hardness. With a mischievous smile, Legolas moved down Éomer's body, the golden hair sending shivers along his spine as its feather touch brushed his skin.

"Legolas, I don't want this to be—Ai!" he gasped as the Elf engulfed his cock, taking in is entire length all at once, leaving him slightly stunned at the depth of the archer's throat. "An Elvish talent, I take it?" he said, somewhat breathlessly as Legolas withdrew, then swallowed him whole again. The Elf chuckled, the rumbling in the back of his throat vibrating against Éomer's sensitive tip. He was afraid he would come right then, but Legolas pulled back just in time, trailing his tongue along the underside of the Human's shaft.

"You will undo me in no time," he whispered, and Legolas leaned forward to kiss him again, one hand massaging his balls.

"Not yet," he smiled, nipping a path along Éomer's jaw, then whispered as he lapped at a rounded ear, "Have you ever been taken by an Elf?"

The warrior moaned at his words, imagining what it would feel like to have Legolas inside of him, and shook his head.

"Would you like to be?"

Éomer released his breath in a long, shuddering sigh. "Yes, he answered, barely capable of remembering the question.

Legolas captured his mouth, delving his tongue deep into the Human. He ran the tip along the roof of Éomer's mouth as he moistened his fingers with the drops of pre-cum that had formed on the Human's cock. The combination of sensations nearly shattered Éomer, but then he grew distracted by the slender finger stroking the outside of his opening. His body tensed, his eyes flying open to meet Legolas's sapphire gaze. The Elf smiled at him, his face filled with a reassuring confidence.

"You are so beautiful," Legolas said as he studied the Man lying beneath him. "I am sorry I never took the time to see this earlier."

"We didn't have the time," Éomer said with a wry smile, trying to calm the flush rising on his face.

"True enough," Legolas said with a quiet laugh, "but we have this moment, and I will do everything I can to make sure you enjoy it."

Éomer reached up to kiss Legolas, growing so intent on devouring the luscious mouth that he didn't notice the finger until it was buried deep inside of him. He looked at the Elf with surprise, and Legolas smiled before rejoining their lips, moving his finger in and out of the tight opening until Éomer had adjusted to his touch. The Human was more aware as a second finger was inserted into him, and he feared for a moment that it would be too much, but then Legolas brushed against the hidden spot deep inside and he shouted at the sudden wave of pleasure. He thrust against Legolas's hand, wanting to feel the intensity of that sensation again and again.

"One would think you'd never done this before," the archer teased, and Éomer shook his head.

"It's never been like this, just hurried tumblings when time could be spared, usually to ease the tension after battle."

"Like the way I used you before," Legolas said sorrowfully and Éomer reached up to caress the silken cheek.

"Even that was beyond anything I'd ever experienced before, and I do not regret it. I'll make you regret it, though, unless you stop torturing me."

Legolas grinned as he massaged the tiny gland once more. Éomer ground his teeth together to keep from screaming, a wave of ecstasy rushing through his body.

"Elf, I'm warning you—" he began, but was interrupted as Legolas kissed him, thrusting his erection into the Human as he did so. The archer had prepared him well and Éomer felt only a momentary twinge of pain before the pleasure took over. His cries soon matched the rhythmic pumping of the Elf as he managed to find the hidden spot every time.

Entwining his hands in Éomer's, Legolas lowered himself onto the Human so that the Man's throbbing cock was trapped between the friction of their bodies. Éomer's eyes closed as the combination of touch and intimacy threatened to overwhelm him. He wanted to make this last as long as possible, but the Elf felt too good, knew his job too well. A minute later, he came with a shout, spilling himself between them.

As the Human's muscles clenched around him, Legolas, too, shouted out his release. The Elf's essence filled the Human and Éomer felt a warmth spread throughout his body. His eyes opened wide, and it was as if the stars burned a little brighter, the air smelled a little sweeter, and Legolas—Legolas glowed with an inner light that made him weep at the Elf's beauty.

"What's wrong?" Legolas asked as he spied the Man's tears.

"Nothing," Éomer smiled. "Nothing at all."

Kissing him softly, Legolas returned his smile and melted into the Man's embrace.

With the rise of the sun the next morning, they both knew they might never find another moment together, but they had sworn never to forget the one they had shared. The memory of it kept Legolas from despair often in the following days, while Éomer kept a little of the Elf's light burning in his heart, giving him comfort through even the most difficult of times. When Legolas and Éomer returned to Helm's Deep, they parted ways without a backward glance. The Elf was swept up into the arms of his friends, who were relieved by the returned serenity in his gaze, and Éomer into the arms of duty to concentrate on securing the survival of their people.

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