Very serious warning: The first draft of this fic was written in a hangover on a day that began with the ill omen of waking next to someone who was worse than ugly… a Monday that dragged its feet slowly though answering the phone pretending to be ill and sessions of heavy masturbation… when my physical body refused to puke and my inner clockwork transformed this into my wilful inner muse literally throwing up malformed, self-aborting ideas… the fact that you are reading this is a testimony that:

Even my dark mysterious muse has her shadow twin, and his sense of humour can only be understood by drunks, idiots, and boys of puberty age. Oh, and one very peculiar lesbian acquaintance of mine. She loved this. If you are not she, you might want to consider reading this sometime later when you are so drunk you feel you are either fifteen, or an idiot, or both. And don't blame me for anything.

The Corsair Ship

Aragorn was pacing restlessly up and down the bridge of the black-sailed ship. The Gondorian sailors manned it efficiently and with a routine in which he found no place for himself – he did not wish to assume a position of command, perhaps fearing something might go wrong if he assumed any authority before the flag Arwen had crafted so lovingly with her mysterious elven magic would be unfurled. And on that moment he would have to be ready to step on the earth of the land that was his and claim it his in battle. Still it irked him to know there was nothing he could do to make the wind swifter, or Anduin less perilous. For so long he had walked and ridden, always in a hurry. There had been something to occupy his body – now all the burdens were on his mind alone.

Then his gaze fell on Elladan and Elrohir conversing swiftly in their identical tenor voices, their words in the melodic High Elven language, Quenya, but their tone strangely agitated. He moved to them standing at the railing and joined the conversation in the same tongue.

'What causes your unease, brothers of my heart?'

'We sent Halbarad to ask these mortal men, and they have confirmed our suspicion that there is, in fact, no woman aboard this ship.' Elladan stated.

He said that as if it was something outrageous and as important as the lack of, say, an anchor.

'Excuse me? Did you say "woman" as in lady, a female person – not as something metaphorical?'

'Indeed. It seems the Numenorean race has lost what little it once knew of proper sailing – and you have spent too much time wandering about in the woods on ranger missions instead of studying in Rivendell the wisdom our line has protected.' Elrohir elaborated on his brother's words, as always leaving Aragorn feel only more confused.

'Tell me why should there be a woman in a warship?'

Elladan explained patiently, as if talking to a child:

'Not one, three. One to light the lanterns, one to dream the song, and one to be –' Aragorn thought the word might mean a person selected to beg for blessing from the Ainur

'- the silence-dancer. If this precaution is not taken a vessel is open to all evil winds – winds I imagine Sauron more than capable of weaving.'

'Might I remind you our entire strategy is to pose as some of his supporters?'

'And what if he sees you and laughs at your foolish human pride? He does have a Palantir.'

'Very well. Let us stop in a village and ask them lend us some women, shall we? With this ship, I think I would end up fighting my own countrymen.' Aragorn pointed out sarcastically.

'Indeed. If it's any consolation, that would not work even with the fairest ship Cirdan ever built. You see, the women have to be volunteers trained in these duties. Such ladies we might have brought, had we know we would travel in a ship, had we known the training is forgotten among the sons of Atalanté.' Elrohir told him. Aragorn once again recalled why the elder brother was reputed to get along well with mortals – compared to Elrohir, Elladan seemed almost human. It was to him that Aragorn turned:

'So there is nothing we can do?'

'There is one thing, a last desperate measure. It will use the blessings our sister wove in her flag, but it will also require us to spend much of our power – and we must also ask a small favour from Prince Legolas and yourself. You will see magic at work that has not been seen since the Second Age, but the price is great.'

After Aragorn had given his assent, Elrohir went off to find the woodland elf while Elladan explained what would happen and what his part in it would be.

'And now is too late to say anything', he quickly finished before Aragorn had time to recover from the shocking description of his duty.

'You cave your assent, and like the women of the Silent Dance you must not speak a word until it is over.'

He nodded, watching his approaching companion like a stranger.

Legolas moved differently. His eyes showed he was not all there, but in some half-dreamy state, his body no doubt already instinctively aware of what had been asked of him. On his lips the ghost of a smile could be seen – was it meant to reassure Aragorn did not know, but it, together with Legolas' languid walk gave an effect that reminded him of some of the Rivendell elves at their worst – in short, his companion had all but been transformed into an effeminate, drunken lordling all too aware of his noble ancestors. If this was not a spell, what was?

He had been warned; still it was strange to see Elladan and Elrohir begin their parts. They took Aragorn by the hands and led him to an empty cabin; Legolas following after like a shade. Slowly the twin brothers undid each other's armour and stood up in their leather underclothes. Then their shapes began to shimmer and change, until Aragorn saw in front of him two identical elven women, who had something of his beloved Arwen in their faces, but the familiar aloof contempt of her brothers still in their eyes, which, in a strange contrast with Legolas seemed fully alert and unclouded. Both still wore the clothes of Elladan and Elrohir, now hanging ridiculously loose. Then the one who was Elrohir stepped out of her trousers and boots and went to the small lantern beside the window. She blew it out and lighted the flame again with a movement of her finger. Then she turned to look at her sibling.

The woman who was Elladan closed her eyes and fell down as if dead. Her sibling carefully arranged her in a comfortable position beside the wall, using her own discarded trousers as a pillow. Then the opened the door and continued her work – Aragorn recalled he had to blow out and relight every lantern on the ship, and wondered what the sailors would think of this woman going about their ship clad only in a shirt that, while reaching her knees, clearly belonged to a man. Would the spell keep them from interfering? Perhaps Elrohir's proud eyes in her fair face would be enough.

Now Legolas moved, the silence-dancer. He approached Aragorn and put his hand on his shoulders. In his eyes the enchantment shone that derived its power from Arwen's flag. He had been chosen because the spell would not resist his elven blood – but he had no magic of his own to change his shape. Aragorn was needed because he was the owner of the flag, the heir of the images embroidered on it. But this enchantment was not of the images, it was of the black fabric itself, woven to contain strands of Arwen's shining hair on a loom the likes of which are made no more, a mellyrn-wood loom Celebrían had brought from Lothlórien when the Age was young.

Aragorn found himself kneeling, and yet the hands on his shoulders pressed him down, so that he was forced to sit on his heels. Aragorn looked up at Legolas in sudden panic. But Legolas, curse him, was stronger than Aragorn, and kept him in place. Legolas started to unbutton his trousers. Aragorn wondered for a moment if all of this was some elaborate scam or joke, to get him do this for Legolas. And then an elven member was thrust into his mouth and he had no time to wonder anymore. Aragorn tried to suck and lick, but Legolas was impatient, and thrust his hips back and forth, making cruel love to Aragorn's mouth. The Sindarin elf did not make a sound.

This act lasted a long time, and Aragorn found it like torture. Yet he persisted, for he knew that if he interrupted the act now, the whole humiliation would have been in vain. Tears flowed freely from his eyes.

Finally he saw from the corner of his eye Elrohir returning to the room. His mind simultaneously hailed her as savior, and cursed her – or him – for witnessing this embarrassing scene. Elrohir touched Legolas on the shoulder, and Legolas turned his head and kissed the woman-Elrohir on the mouth. The kiss seemed very passionate, at least from Aragorn's point of view. And it certainly was what Legolas needed – the elf came in Aragorn's mouth, and the rightful heir of Gondor tasted the elven seed, sweeter than honey, sickly sweet. Still, Legolas remained utterly silent. He touched his now limp member to Aragorn's lips, and Aragorn remembered the last part of the ceremony. Cringing, he licked Legolas clean and kissed the head of his member. Legolas patted him on the head, like one would pat a dog, and buttoned up his breeches.

Elladan had risen, and when Aragorn stood up, he saw that both Elladan and Elrohir were now male. He groaned. Elrohir hadn't put on his trousers yet, and Aragorn saw a distinct bulge under the hem of his tunic. "You did well." Elrohir told him.

Legolas stepped up to Elladan, and kissed him with ardent fervour. Soon the two of them were undressing each other. Aragorn stared at them, then at Elrohir: "You didn't mention this part of the ceremony," he said accusingly.

Elrohir smiled. "The ceremony is over. This is the effect it had on us."

Aragorn stared at him. "I feel no such effect."

Elrohir took off his tunic, and his body shimmered for a moment. There, before Aragorn's eyes, was the female Elrohir again, in all her naked glory. She had a distinct semblance to Arwen, yet a beauty of her own.

Something occurred to Aragorn.

"Why wasn't one of you two the Silence-dancer?" He asked.

Elrohir giggled.

"Because Legolas won the bet. But don't you worry... I will reward you well for your services." She knelt down. "And I will teach you how to do this right," she added, before taking Aragorn in her mouth and giving him more pleasure than anyone ever had, including Arwen.