Sweet Elf Ass

*Disclaimer* I own nothing. Except the Trolls of Gemarskagilia. And the goats.

This is my first fic. Please, please review!

Chapter One - The Meeting

It was a dark and stormy night. Elrond was holding a glorious celebration in honor of his 3043rd birthday. Elves from all around middle earth were invited to join in the festivities. Among them was the fine young elf, Legolas. He wore a long purple cloak accented by a small silver broach that was given to him by his mother, long ago before she was eaten by the horrid Trolls of Gemarskagilia. Oh how he loved his mother. Oh how he missed her. He carried so much sorrow in his heart that few had seen him smile. His golden hair lay wet about his shoulders, glistening in the moonlight and flashing with every lightning strike. He stood alone, with his eyes tightly shut as drops of rain slid down his forehead joining with the tears on his face, masking his obvious grief.

His elfin ears picked up a strange sound coming from behind him, and he turned to look, but saw nothing in the black. Suddenly, a bolt of lightning split the sky enveloping him in light so bright that it nearly blinded him. As he tried to regain his sight, the noise returned, but this time he knew what it was. Footsteps. Those of a man he once knew, but had not seen in many moons.

"Aragorn, is that you?" he asked softly.

The response was quick, "Yes. It is I."

Legolas whipped around, his sopping hair slapping and sticking to his face as he turned. "It has been a long time my friend, too long." He studied the dark Ranger in front of him. His cloak was old and tattered, and the hood that covered his head gave no protection from the rain as evidenced by his wet mass of waves. He had obviously been riding long and hard, yet his eyes showed no signs of exhaustion, and the rain had served to wash away much of the filth that covered his face.

"It has been long my friend," he said as he stepped closer and took Legolas' hand in his. "I have missed you." An intense longing could be seen within the deep blue pools of his eyes, a longing that Legolas had seen before. The man's hand quickly dropped the elf's and went to wipe the rain from his brow. Legolas began to tremble as he clasped his hands behind him. "Are you cold? Perhaps we should go inside."

The elf quickly gathered his thoughts and urged his leaden feet to move forward towards the door. "Perhaps we should."



Chapter Two - Mommy Dearest

There were at least a hundred elves inside the large ballroom, yet neither Legolas nor Aragorn seemed to notice any of them. Their eyes met for a moment and then Aragorn slowly shifted his gaze down the body of the elf. He noticed how the soft purple of his cloak shone in the firelight. It was an expensive piece that only a being of noble blood would wear. As his eyes traveled back up Legolas' torso they came to rest on the silver broach. He reached out and gently brushed the pin.

"This was your mother's, was it not?"

Legolas nodded somberly.

"I heard of her death, but I was far away, and though I wished to see you, I could not. The details were never relayed to me."

"It was a noble death. She was aiding three goats in their journey across the bridge of Gemarskagilia, when the trolls attacked. She put herself between them and her companions all of whom survived. But of my mother, all that was found was a little toe." He hung his head and blinked to keep the tears at bay.

"I'm sorry my friend," Aragorn said as he grasped Legolas' shoulder.

The warm sensation of the Ranger's hand comforted him, thus allowing him to continue. "It's just as well you weren't there. Though her funeral was attended by many elves, it was not the homage we had hoped for. Few from the outside world came. Even the goats whose lives she saved were not in attendance."

"I still should have been there for you. Can you forgive me?" His hand slowly slid down Legolas' back.

Legolas looked up and their eyes locked. "There is nothing to forgive. It is in the past."

"Yet you continue to suffer. It pains me to see you in such a state."

He turned away. "I am fine."

"Legolas..."

"You have been riding long. You should change and rest. Take my room, Elrond has given me the one across from his."

"But where will you go my friend?"

Legolas began to leave. "Do not concern yourself with me."



Chapter Three - The Boudoir

Aragorn found some clothes lying out on the bed and began to dress. He methodically peeled away the layers of wet cloth that clung to his firm muscular body, and replaced them with the dry ensemble. The clothes were a bit too small and held tightly to the curves of his flexing muscles. Suddenly, he sensed a presence behind him. Without turning he uttered simply "Legolas."

A slender hand reached across to Aragorn's chest and slid beneath his shirt, softly carressing his tender flesh. From behind, he could feel Legolas' warm, trembling body pressed close to his. "You are no longer cold."

"No, quite warm." Aragorn turned to face Legolas and slid his hand through his still damp hair, pulling him closer to him. Their lips met, quivering slightly at first, then slowly falling into a fiery lock. The passion quickly overtook them both as Aragorn began to remove the Elf's wet clothing and they fell into bed.