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my bow shall sing with your sword: legolas

He saved her, thought Legolas. I let her walk into danger but he saved her.

Why did I let her come back alone? I should have stayed with her. I should have made sure she was safe. I knew she was at risk!

I shall never let her out of my sight again.

But he saved her, thank the Valar!

He saved her and Aragorn revived her...

He leaned back against the carantaur tree, nursing his misery. Eowyn has always admired rugged men—men like her brother. And like Aragorn.

And Haldir is a rugged elf...

I have heard men call me girlish—Lego-lass—and wonder if I really do have male parts. Well I have, thank you; and fully working, too.

But am I really what Eowyn needs? After her life with Faramir? Will she really stay with me when the Harvest Ceremony is over?

He felt her withdraw her hand from his, and he looked down in fear. But she was smiling at him, and offering him her wax tablet. He took it, and scanned the words. Her hand was firm and upright, but not particularly neat; he read what she had written:

You look nice in leather breeches.

She grinned.

Dear Valar, instant erection! Well, if that is what she wants...

Very deliberately, he rubbed the words out with his thumb, leaned down, and kissed her mouth.

Her hand took him completely by surprise.

"Valar, Eowyn!" he gasped.

And it did not stop there! Aggressive now, she pushed him onto his back and straddled him, stroking her hands hard over his confined penis, pressing down on his belly, making him want to come, right there. Half-heartedly, he tried to pull away—tried to regain control—but she would have none of it. And by the time she had unlaced his breeches and freed him—stroked him, kissed him, nuzzled and—Sweet Eru—nipped him—he was trembling all over. All it took, then, was the lightest of touches...

"Ahhhhh, melmenya," he gasped, "OH!"

And, like some primitive creature, ruled entirely by instinct, he arched his back and came—stream after stream of hot seed erupting from deep in his groin—wailing, "Melmenya!" until his body convulsed in one final, gut-wrenching spasm, and he emptied himself on her belly.


He sank back to the wooden floor, smiling.

Something sharp and searing touched his penis. "Agh!"

"Did I hurt you?" Her voice was a precious little croak.

"It is very sensitive, meleth nín, immediately afterwards."

"I am sorry..." Her voice cracked.

"Oh, no, my darling... Shhhhh, shhhhh." He wrapped her in his arms. She thinks she has done something wrong, he thought, when she could not have done anything more right.

The memory of her desire for him—for him (he grinned) in leather breeches—was all he needed to banish his earlier doubts.

"Give me one more moment, melmenya," he said, taking her hand and kissing her fingers. "And then I will make sure that you are sorry—very sorry." He nuzzled her ear. "I shall make you beg for mercy, melmenya. And I will not stop until you have been severely punished." He placed her hand on his now fully recovered penis, and pressed his lips to her ear. "I will not stop punishing you, meleth nín, no matter how hard you beg."




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Chapter 8