wherein I invent new ways to make Professor JRRT turn over in his grave ;)

[floatingleaf]

So... yeah. I did it. That threesome fic I was talking about. It is finished. There's no explicit het sex in it, but still... quite a departure for me, so I'm a little nervous about posting. I am really surprised at how well I was able to hear Arwen's voice in my head - even though I never gave much thought to her personality before, and I don't suppose I myself could be as magnanimous as I made her here (but then, elves are less insecure/self-centered than humans, aren't they?...;P). Hard to say where the whole thing came from - other than how I'd been thinking about this whole big fandom discussion about how we slash writers tend to ignore/marginalize/vilify female characters. I certainly did not want to conform to that stereotype. Also, it is my own way of responding to all the angsty post-coronation fic wherein Legolas has to go. What if Arwen did NOT want him to go? I have an incurable tendency to always look for a painless solution, however unlikely it may seem. Well... here it is.


Title: Times of Peace
Pairing: Aragorn/Arwen/Legolas
Rating: NC-17 (just to be on the safe side, lol)
Summary: My own version of resolving the Arwen-angst. Highly idealistic and pehaps implausible, but I couldn't resist trying to give everyone a happy ending.
Warnings: A loving, sexual relationship between three people. Implicit het AND explicit slash.;) High sugar level. (I try, honest to the Valar, but I just can't seem to stay away from the sappy - so shoot me.;P)
Disclaimer: I don't know what would scandalize Tolkien more - my regular stuff or this. Let the reader decide.;)
Author's Notes: I might have been inspired by other A/A/L authors - especially surreysmum and ana_lib_elf, whose wonderful, happy fics convinced me that this particular threesome might work.;) Thank you, ladies. <3



It is a glorious summer day. The curtains move softly in the breeze, sunlight streaming in through the open windows. The queen of Gondor is reclining in her easy chair, feet propped up on a stool crowned with a cushion. A tray containing a bowl of fruit and a goblet of chilled wine rests on a small table by her side. From where her chair is situated, she has an excellent view of the bed and her royal husband stretched out upon it. As well as the royal prince of Mirkwood - currently the king's chief advisor - seated astride his prone form, the king's proud scepter imbedded firmly between the luscious globes of the prince's behind. It is not an unusual sight for the queen on a state holiday, after the business of the court has been temporarily concluded - it is, however, deeply satisfying. More satisfying, admittedly, than the delicious foot massage her husband gave her earlier - or even the following tender moment when he reverently pressed his face against her belly. She is heavily pregnant, expecting the heir of Gondor - or possibly of Mirkwood, depending on certain unpredictable circumstances involved in said heir's conception - and no longer in the mood for joining the bedroom festivities... however, she has proven to be a very gracious and appreciative spectator. Legolas is so incredibly beautiful when he gets lost in passion - and nothing brings that look of glorious abandon to his face more effectively than riding Aragorn's shaft. Head thrown back, his unbound golden hair flying about his shoulders, he rolls his hips in relentless pursuit of esctasy. Aragorn writhes under him in equal madness, hands clutching at the firm buttocks, trying to hold them in place as he thrusts up into the tight heat. The queen knows how it feels to be taken this way... how utterly overwhelming and exhilarating it can be. She bites her lip as delicious warmth spreads through her secret channels. Her gaze leaves Legolas and turns on her husband, who also happens to look at her in this very moment. He smiles a knowing smile, delirious with happiness and lust, and she watches, transfixed, as he surrenders to pleasure. They make such a lovely pair - the broad-chested, swarthy man and the slim, willowy elf. She wishes her children would inherit the grace of both. She knows Aragorn desires to see Legolas' offspring brought into this world just as much as his own. She knows he would gladly be the father of Legolas' children, if that were possible. So she is making it possible... in a way.

She has chosen to make no distinction between her two lovers - to let the Valar decide whose son or daughter takes form within her womb. She loves them both. Not in the same way, perhaps - but enough to not be troubled by their deep feelings for each other. And they love her also - each in his own way. Legolas is always courteous and reverent with her, even during the most intimate moments; never as wildly passionate as he is with Aragorn. This does not disappoint her, because Aragorn gives his full amorous attention to them both. He counts himself the luckiest man in Middle Earth ever since the two elves closest to his heart decided they could share. He wouldn't have asked it of either of them - he was ready to give up one half of his soul and remain heartbroken in pursuit of duty. But she, the Evenstar, would have none of that. She saw the pain in his eyes as he locked gazes with Legolas during the coronation. She saw the Mirkwood prince smile bravely as he congratulated the newly reunited royal couple - but there was quiet despair buried beneath his superficially cheerful demeanor. Aragorn did seem genuinely happy to see her, though - as well as troubled and visibly longing to confide in her, the way he used to do when he was very young. So as soon as they were finally alone in the royal bedchamber, she made him talk. Then she summoned prince Legolas for a private audience and made him talk as well (this was more difficult, but the Evenstar was well known for her diplomatic skills). And then she locked them both up in her private parlor and gave her own speech. She informed them in no uncertain terms that she was not willing to shoulder the burden of two broken hearts. She did not choose to be married to a martyr, secretly pining for someone else. She could love generously, if they could do the same. There was a long moment of stunned silence... and then Aragorn dropped to his knees in front of her, holding her hand to his lips in wordless homage. Legolas seemed conflicted at first, but the pleading in Aragorn's eyes melted his scruples soon enough. It took some time before all three were ready to spend their nights in one bedchamber - and, surprisingly, it was Aragorn who seemed most unsure about it. As they later joked, he thought himself unable to keep up with the advances of two amorous elves at the same time. Which might have been partly true... though he usually managed well enough. What the queen found most amusing, however, was how nonplussed he seemed when she focused her full attention on Legolas for more than a brief moment. She did it mostly to tease him about it afterwards, which made both him and Legolas blush - but the endearing possessiveness was easily forgiven. He was only human, after all.

He's breathing heavily now, exhausted after a powerful release. Legolas lies draped across his chest, golden hair strewn around in wild disarray (only the king and queen ever get to see his hair like this). Aragorn idly carresses his lover's back, smiling at Arwen who looks on with a peaceful, contented expression. She gets up slowly from her chair, lifting the wine goblet, and walks over to the bed. Aragorn props himself up on one elbow and accepts the refreshment gratefully, drinking in big, eager gulps.

Legolas lifts his head slightly and cracks an eye open. "Always so thirsty after I've had my turn with him...", he murmurs, laughter hovering on the edges of his voice.

"Fair enough, have your fun at my expense, insatiable elf", the king grumbles, handing back the empty goblet. He holds on to the queen's hand, presses a lingering kiss to the slim, elegant fingers.

"Hannon le, tari nin*", he whispers, looking deep into her eyes. She knows he's not just thanking her for the wine. She smiles warmly in acknowledgement, and lifts his palm to press it against the fullness of her belly.

"He's moving!...", the King observes in wonder.

Legolas looks up, flicking a strand of hair over his shoulder. "He - or she - will be restless and full of mischief, just like you are", he says fondly.

"Look who's accusing others of mischief!...", Aragorn laughs, lifting his other hand to pinch the prince's backside. Legolas' cry of protest, followed by Arwen's merry laugh, is cut off abruptly, and then turns into a moan.

Aragorn smiles in triumph, tearing his mouth away from a pointed ear. "Didn't I just say it?... Insatiable", he proclaims, eagerly fondling the abused backside.

"Just be glad you only have ONE elf to satisfy today!...", says the queen, moving back towards her chair. "Enjoy your rare chance to get two rounds within one hour, Legolas!...", she adds playfully, bursting into most unladylike giggles at the chiding look he gives her in response. Any witty remark he might have considered is lost in another moan as the king flips him over onto his back.

"I would give you a dozen rounds each, if only this weak mortal flesh would obey!...", he rasps, bending down to lick at the smooth chest.

Legolas clutches at him, arching up into the caress and opening his thighs. He is fully erect already, and Aragorn murmurs in appreciation, wrapping his large hand around the slender shaft. The queen recalls the night when her husband guided the very same shaft into her own secret passage, murmuring something about wanting to have "the most beautiful children on Arda". She smiles at how it obviously didn't even cross Aragorn's mind to not acknowledge those children as his. And they would be his, she thinks. Just like they would be Legolas' children also, even if it's Aragorn's seed that gives them life. She wonders which traits of the three of them shall be passed on, and has an unexpected vision of a somber, grey-eyed boy with wavy dark tresses and a slight, golden-haired girl running swiftly like the wind. She blinks against the sudden moisture obscuring her view of the here and now. It wouldn't do to miss the second part of today's entertainment. The release won't come so swiftly now, they will have to strive at it a little harder, and there will be increased need of refreshment afterwards. She refills the goblet from the pitcher and sips gently, savoring all the sensual delights the Valar have chosen to gift her with in this very moment. It is a generous amount of blessings, and she is feeling immensely grateful. Legolas' melodious moans as he writhes on the bed are a perfect counterpoint to her fea's song of gratitude. She has given of herself, made sacrifices, to arrive at this moment in time - and she was rewarded a thousandfold. Any past or future pain and hardship was worth it. Here and now, she regards her destiny fulfilled. She places her palm against her belly and consciously projects her inner sense of peace to the new life growing inside.

"No matter what you hear people say years from now", she tells her unborn child, "no matter what unfavorable tales the citizens of Gondor might spin about your strange half-elven family... know this now, and know this forever. There is a reason why you were called into this world, why you and your parents might be different from the people of this city in which you are meant to grow up. It is a very good reason, my little one, and that reason is love."

She locks gazes with Legolas, strung tight like a bow in the throes of his climax, and sees the open, unguarded wonder in his eyes. Wonder at the sudden intensity of pleasure, but also at the happiness this triple bond has brought despite his initial reservations. They each know the sacrifices the other has made - or was ready to make - in order to support Aragorn and help him fulfill his destiny. They were each loath to be the cause of the other's suffering - and yet, never expected the depth of affection they would come to feel for each other. The ease with which they would be able to joke about Aragorn's apparent jealousy (they always made it up to him afterwards, though). The delight they would each take in watching the other be the focus of Aragorn's loving attentions. It is nothing short of miraculous. She gets up again and approaches the bed, tipping the wine goblet slightly and spilling a few drops on Legolas' chest. Aragorn, still striving towards his own release, pauses briefly and bends down to lick them off. Legolas catches Arwen's free hand in his and squeezes her fingers gently. He does not say anything. He doesn't need to. Aragorn throws his head back on a final thrust with a deep, rumbling groan, before collapsing on top of his lover. The prince's long legs release their stranglehold on the king's hips and slide limply to the bed.

"I feel very well used indeed", he announces with undisguised satisfaction.

Aragorn chuckles. "I am glad", he mumbles tiredly into Legolas' neck. "I do not think I can do this again today."

He sits up slowly and eagerly accepts the offered wine. "You should not trouble yourself", he tells Arwen. "I am not so exhausted yet that I cannot fetch myself a drink."

"Are you sure? Your hands are shaking", teases Legolas with a smirk.

Aragorn gives him another hearty pinch. "Oh, the hardships I have to endure at the hands of wicked elves", he bemoans in mock despair.

"You wouldn't have it any other way", the queen reminds him, moving closer as he reaches out to embrace her.

"True enough", the king admits, looking up into her eyes. "I wouldn't."


The End


*Thank you, my queen.

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