salixbabylon | FIC: Elf Soap (1/1)

Title: Elf Soap
Author:

salixbabylon
Email: salixbabylon@yahoo.com
Word Count: 2579
Pairing: Aragorn/Legolas
Rating: NC-17
Archiving: My site, Aniron, CIB, Mirrormere, list archives, and others upon request ONLY.
Feedback: Always appreciated.
Disclaimer: Characters and places in this story, which appear in the Lord of the Rings novels, belong to the Tolkien Estate. Tolkien Enterprises, and originated from the genius of J.R.R. Tolkien. I don't make, or intend to make, money out of them. They just wouldn't leave me alone.

Summary: In the early days of the Fellowship's journey, Aragorn learns about the wonders of Elf Soap. Humor/Crack!fic.

Thank yous: To Lostiawen, who encouraged the bunny and helped make the soap. To Willowwing and Joey, who betaed and gave feedback. To Cindy, always.

Author's Note: Liked the story? Buy the soap! Lostiawen and I actually *hand made* soap to go with this bunny, out of all organic materials. Just click the PayPal button at the bottom!

Elf Soap

The Misty Mountains loomed in the south as the Fellowship's path gradually turned uphill. Aragorn estimated that they were about three days away from Eregion, with the Hobbits' short stride taken into consideration. The four half-pint-sized innocents were better travelers than he had anticipated when he'd met them in Bree. The company was making good time, all things considered. Luck had been on their side, both with the mild winter and the lack of any actual danger so far.

Relaxing his stride, he looked around. Today's dawning sky was clear and held a promise of warmth, as the company began to make camp by a small stream where they would rest for the day.

It was in fact unseasonably warmish; the cold winds that had chilled them for the last two weeks had relented. None were as eager to sleep as was usual; instead, quiet conversations about unimportant matters easily turned into stories and remembrances of past adventures. The four Hobbits were listening to Gimli tell of the exotic "marital aids" made of mithril the Dwarves had crafted for the Queens of Men in days long past. Gandalf and Boromir were deep in conversation about the unattractiveness of Gondor's current guardsmen.

But where was Legolas?

The Elf had faithfully brought up the rear of the Fellowship this last fortnight, never complaining, rarely speaking other than to share his observations about the coming weather and likely places to make camp. Aragorn had known him for many years, since the Prince had often visited Rivendell while Aragorn grew to manhood, but yet did not know him well. Legolas had mostly kept company with Elrond's sons when they were about, and the three Elves had often included Estel in their hunting trips, drinking and jesting as youths of any race do. Legolas had not often sought out the young mortal when Elrohir and Elladan were absent, however, and Aragorn had hoped to get to know him better on their journey.

He had observed that Legolas seemed to enjoy the forest more than any other Elves he had traveled with. The last two days he had seen Legolas taking deep breaths of the cool air, as if drinking in the fresh scent of the trees, the crispness of the grasses, and the moist, fertile earth. Apparently the winter season did not hinder Legolas' enjoyment of the natural world, with his keen sense of smell.

On second thought, perhaps it was the increasingly ripe scent of his fellow-travelers that Legolas was seeking to supplant. Elves of course did not perspire, and Legolas was unlikely to have ever before been surrounded by so many unwashed mortals for so long. They were all footsore and travel-stained, to put it delicately; even Aragorn had noticed that the aroma from certain members of the Fellowship was growing less than pleasant. His own probably needed seeing to, as well.

"Excuse me, Gandalf, Boromir," he said, interrupting their debate over whether the guardsmen should be required to shave or not, with the possibility of chafing being the main point of contention. "Did Legolas tell you where he was going?"

Gandalf hid a smirk in his beard as Boromir replied with a huff, "He said he was going to take a look down the river and locate a place to bathe. Prissy Elf."

"He has a point," Aragorn defended. "We haven't had a chance for a proper wash in over two weeks. He has a more acute sense of smell than we do."

"Are you saying the rest of us stink?" Boromir growled, reaching for his sword.

"Now, now," Gandalf held up his hands placatingly. "No need to get in a tiff about different grooming habits. I'm sure a bath would do us all good. Nice warm day for it, too," he smiled. "Legolas said he would refill the water skins and report back. He should be returning any moment now."

Not bothering to reply to either of them, Aragorn walked off towards the river. Some day soon he was going to have to deal with Boromir's attitude, but today was not that day. He rolled his eyes, trying to find the legendary inner calm of the Elves who had fostered him. Not that they hadn't rolled their eyes too, often at him, in that annoying way which conveyed the patience of a long-suffering, eternal being. He stretched his shoulders, trying to ease the stiffness there. He was so tense lately; he could really use a good wank, he thought, as he left the sounds of the Fellowship behind and disappeared into the forest.

*****

Following a deer path down to the river, Aragorn wandered a fair distance from the camp they had set up before he heard a noise. Quiet singing. And... Splashing? Struggling over the roots of a tree fallen across the river, Aragorn stood, stunned.

Legolas was in the river. Nude. Bathing, it seemed. And singing.

Nude.

It bore saying twice, truly.

Pale, luminous skin, touched with pink from the cold water cascading over the fallen tree trunk in a short waterfall. Firm skin, a body lean and muscular, strong and graceful, like a statue that made one feel inappropriate stirring sensations in one's groin. Long-fingered, dexterous hands skimming up and down Legolas' body with unconscious grace. White-gold hair darkened to the color of rich butter. Dulcet voice singing one of the more banal bathing songs about the joys of being clean and smelling nice.

Aragorn stood for a time, watching. Remembering other times bathing with Legolas and the twins. And other times bathing privately with other male Elves, who were curious to explore the physical differences between Men and Elves. He shifted, wishing his breeches were not quite so tight.

"Quit staring at me and come bathe," Legolas' voice suddenly commanded with an air of amusement, breaking off from his song.

Aragorn's features twisted into a pout, not sure whether he was annoyed at being caught staring or at once again failing to creep up on an Elf.

Legolas laughed at him. "After so many years of your foster brothers always catching you sneaking around, you are *almost* as quiet as an Elf when you try. Unfortunately, I can smell you from there."

Chagrined, Aragorn nodded. "I am sorry that my odor offends you. I have traveled more often among Men for the last decade than among Elves; I had forgotten how sensitive you are to scent," he said, as he began stripping off layers of clothing. The slight breeze chilled him enough to prevent any undue embarrassment as he removed his breeches and waded into the surprisingly temperate pool.

"Is there a hot spring nearby?" he asked.

"No; I believe the water is warmed by something under the mountains," Legolas replied, throwing a small object at Aragorn.

He caught it, but it slipped out of his hand and fell with a splash into the water. He retrieved the item and his jaw fell open.

"Soap?" he asked, incredulous. "You brought *soap*? On a journey to Mordor?"

Legolas shrugged a flawless shoulder. "Yes, a few cakes. I knew I was going to be traveling with smelly mortals," he teased.

While Aragorn washed, Legolas ducked his own head under the waterfall, scrubbing his scalp and pulling his fingers through his hair.

Aragorn laughed, shaking his head. "But you forgot to bring a comb?"

Legolas cupped his hands and sent an arc of water into Aragorn's face. "Insolent whelp. No, my comb is with my pack, as are clean clothes. I thought I would scout out a pool, wash my face and hands, and fill the water skins. Then return to camp to gather things for a bath." He paused, and slight color tinted his cheeks pink. "Unfortunately, I found I did not possess the legendary patience of immortals this time. I could not resist the allure of the water."

"Well, your hair is getting all tangled," Aragorn pointed out, resisting the urge to splash back. "Come here and let me help you; otherwise it will be impossible to work the knots out later."

Legolas came closer with a knowing expression on his face. "Oh? And how did you come by so much expertise in dealing with fine Elven hair?" he asked, grinning.

Aragorn's face colored a bit, and his nether regions stirred as he recalled many occasions of untangling the long, wet locks of his former lovers. He turned Legolas around and nudged him to kneel in the water, and began working his hands delicately through the hair. He sighed at the silky sensation and heard an answering sigh from Legolas.

Curious, Aragorn trailed one hand down the Elf's neck, seeing the skin shiver and prickle in response. Elves do not feel the cold, he reminded himself. With a smug little smile, he "accidentally" stroked his fingers over the sensitive points of Legolas' ears.

He was somewhat surprised when Legolas leaned back onto his chest and tilted his head to the side. "More, Aragorn," Legolas murmured, wiggling further back until the lower part of Aragorn's body was pressed against the Elf.

Aragorn froze. His arousal was firmly pressing into Legolas' back and there was no way Legolas could mistake that. Was his friend's enjoyment of his touch merely sensual or was it of a more sexual nature? What did Legolas want?

Aragorn certainly knew what he wanted, and stifled a groan as Legolas wiggled against his crotch in a demanding sort of way, sighing when Aragorn resumed stroking his ears. No, Aragorn's problems were not whether he wanted the Elf, but whether the Elf wanted him, and then the more enjoyable problem of selecting one of many positions in which they might couple first.

"Aragorn," Legolas said, recalling his attention.

"Hm?"

"Is there a reason you are still fondling my ears and have not moved on to other more sensitive areas?" he asked with a sly smile as he stood and turned around. "Have your former lovers been remiss in instructing you on how to please an Elf?"

"No," Aragorn replied, resisting the urge to stick out his tongue. "I was simply trying to work out what you wanted from me," he answered honestly.

Legolas moved his smooth body closer, bringing their lips the slightest breath apart. "I want your cock buried deep within me as I ride you harder than a stallion of Rohan. And when I've worn you out, I will take pity on your human weakness and let you taste my immortal essence."

Aragorn shivered at the commanding words. He leaned in to bring their lips together, but the Elf moved away. Legolas led him over to the bank of the river and pushed him down into the soft silt, straddling him. Aragorn realized the cake of soap was still in his hand and went to toss it onto the grass, when his arm was pulled back by a strong hand.

"Nay; we will need that to ease the way. Unless you have some oil hidden in a pocket of your clothes?"

"No. But won't it, um, wash away?" Aragorn asked hesitantly. Legolas was so in command that he hated to question him; it was a relief to have someone else take the lead for once.

"Ah, this is Elf soap," Legolas smiled. "Far more moisturizing and versatile than most soaps you are familiar with," he said, lathering up his hands. He trailed them down Aragorn's chest, teasing his nipples and playing curiously with the hair sprinkled there, before smoothing them down his firm belly to his groin.

Aragorn's hands were not idle, caressing the satiny skin of Legolas' arms and shoulders before pulling him tentatively forward to bring their mouths together. Legolas opened to him, sharing the taste of his lips, allowing Aragorn's tongue to tangle with his, before reasserting control and plunging deeply into to the kiss. His tongue devastated Aragorn, leaving him shaken and gasping for air, hard and hot and needy. As his body shifted restlessly under Legolas, Aragorn's hands stroked down the ivory back to cup and squeeze what had to be the firmest rear in all Middle Earth.

Abruptly, Legolas sat up, dragging his swollen organ against Aragorn's chest as he pressed the soap back into the Ranger's hands. "Prepare me," he whispered, falling forward to his hands. With the Elf poised above him on all fours, Aragorn quickly worked the soap to a lather. As his hands caressed the seam of Legolas' body, he angled his head to lap at the erection teasing his lips. His tongue and fingers moved together, circling, before slowly penetrating the tight orifice while his mouth enveloped the hard length.

Legolas groaned with delight and began to rock in a dance of pleasure between Aragorn's slick fingers, probing and stretching, and his wet mouth, sucking and teasing. "Enough!" he finally cried, pulling away and positioning himself further back.

Aragorn's protesting whine at losing the sweet taste of the Elf's flesh mutated into a deep, rumbling groan of pleasure as Legolas quickly slicked a lathered hand over Aragorn's throbbing arousal and immediately sank down on it, drawing it deep into his body.

Tightness like he hadn't felt in years squeezed Aragorn's cock, and the vision of Legolas in ecstasy astride his lap threatened to overwhelm him too fast. Fortunately, Legolas was in no mood to delay either, it seemed, as he set a relentless pace, truly galloping astride Aragorn, keening like a wild thing.

The ride was glorious, shattering all of his control, and Aragorn knew he could not last as his body began to writhe and spasm in an overload of pleasure. "Ah, Legolas! You undo me!" he cried, as he climaxed deep into the wanton creature above him.

Legolas let him ride out the last few thrusts as Aragorn's pleasure ebbed before pulling off and moving up. He rocked his hips forward, sliding his length into Aragorn's willing mouth. "Now, Ranger. Finish me off," he demanded.

Moaning, Aragorn wrapped his hands around Legolas' slim hips and encouraged the strong thighs to move at will, as he hungrily took the cock into his mouth. Relaxing his throat and stroking his tongue along the hot length, Aragorn slipped two long fingers back inside the Elf's tight sheath, and began thrusting in counterpoint. Legolas' body tensed as he drew in a great breath and held it, jerking slightly as he cursed in an ancient Elvish tongue some words about pleasurable death, and Aragorn's throat was flooded with his sweet essence.

Panting and swaying slightly above him, Aragorn steadied the delirious Elf and helped him to roll to the side. They lay together, arms and legs entangled, letting their bodies cool and relax, enjoying the sounds of the river and the pleasure of being alive.

After a time, Legolas chuckled. "Now we need another bath," he smiled, rolling over Aragorn to reach the forgotten soap.

*****

Many hours later, the Fellowship roused themselves from various states of slumber and began to think of refreshment and getting the night's journey underway. As usual, Pippin came to see if Aragorn had been out hunting while the Hobbits slept, but this time halted his usual questions before he had even started.

"You smell sweet," he said, eyes wide with astonishment. "Like the flowers that bloom only in the summer darkness."

Aragorn flushed a bit as Legolas laughed, having overheard the shrill voice from across the encampment. "It's Elf soap," he answered, winking at Legolas. "Perfect for cleaning sweaty Rangers."

~end~

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