Dream Weaver

by Susan Barnett

Disclaimer: No rights are claimed or exploited in this story.


I stand on the high platform overlooking the Rohan Plains. I scan the horizon as if by some trick of the light I will be able to see him. His platinum blond hair blowing in the Lorien breeze, bow and quiver slung over his back as he too scans the horizon. Looking for me?

"You miss him," a voice whispers in my ear, not a question but a statement. A hand is on my shoulder. As I nod my head, I turn to face the Wizard who stands behind me. "Will you allow me to soothe your troubles, Legolas Greenleaf?"

I shake my head. Though I am not sure what he is offering me, I garner a good idea by the way his hand rubs at my shoulder. But I do not wish to accept when my heart and thoughts belong to another. "He would not begrudge you comfort for your loneliness." I blink at him. Has he read my thoughts? "No," he says "it is written on your face." And he smiles. Without waiting for my consent or denial, he links his arm with mine, although we both know he is no frail old man, and he guides me inside and down the corridor. We pause outside his chambers, as if he is giving me time to change my mind, or even voice an answer. It is only a moment, however, as he opens the door.

I stand in the middle of the room while he lights the candles, and the room is soon bathed in a soft glow. He steps in front of me. He reaches out one hand and runs a calloused finger tip over my ear. I lean into his touch, as the finger becomes a hand cupping my cheek. He comes closer. "So much longing" I hear in my ear. "Yes," I whisper back.

Deft fingers are now used to loosen my clothing, and I feel the layers stripped from me, and they fall to the ground unheeded. It has not taken long, and I stand naked before him. He stands a distance away from me and looks. "You have a fine body, Legolas Greenleaf." He moves closer, and his hands run down the arms that are limp by my side. Reaching my hands he lifts them in his and brings them to his face, first to examine them as he turns them over and looks closely at my palms. His thumbs brush over the archer's marks, thick patches of skin where flesh meets wood and feather.

He lifts one hand of mine in his and guides it over his face. I touch his brow, his cheek, his lips. He smiles as he watches my face. I have only ever touched elf kind in such a way, and his feel is so different. His features are not the timeless, ageless beauty of my lover. He has seen many winters. He lets go of my hand but I let it linger there, exploring this unknown. I thread my fingers through his white hair, not elven silk but soft nonetheless. He surprises me by closing his eyes, and although I know he means me not to hear, there is a small sigh that escapes his closed lips.

I do not know what to expect as he disrobes in front of me. As his white robes drop to the ground I stand in awe. His body is lean and although not muscle sculptured like my loved one, there is more than a hint of concealed power and strength.

Two hands are on my chest, tracing a path to each nipple. His palm presses against each. All he does is move his hand in small circles and the skin tightens, responding to this light touch. He holds onto each taunt, deep red pap between the first joint of two fingers and draws them slightly away from my body, scissoring fingers together to twist them. The sensation thrills through me, and I sense hot blood rush to all parts of my body, nerves on edge. He lets go but I do not feel any loss; rather, the warmth of his movements remain with me. The calloused hands of the White Wizard plot a course across and down my torso. Each muscle quivers at his presence, his attention. I watch his progress intently, my hair hangs over my face, strands of it stick to my face, clinging there in the hot sweat that is forming on my brow.

The room spins a little, and time has become meaningless. It could have been seconds, minutes that he has been holding me like this. There is no haste, no words from him, only soft gentle touches. All about me. Up and down my back I feel him now, shudders along my spine. Hot breath on my neck as he is closer, holding me close. Close enough and tight enough for me to shift my hips upwards to met his and push a little. I feel like an elfling being praised by an Eldar when he responds with a movement of his own. Our two erections pressing together, a fleeting moment of searing heat. I am now covered in thin sheen of moisture, and my breath is harder to draw. He slides his body down mine, turning his head to have his cheek graze my skin. He is kneeling in front of me.

His touch is fire and ice, and a groan catches in my throat as he grasps me firmly in both hands. I am panting a little now as he starts a rhythmic stroking. The roughness of his palms catching each time on my smooth flesh--not hurting though, but adding to the pleasure of the action. I throw my head back, then captivated by what he is doing, lean forward again. He does not look at me. He does not stop, the rhythm picks up and the blood races in my veins. I flex my hips forward and back, thrusting into his hands, unconsciously increasing the pace myself. One hand comes to rest on my hip and he holds me firm. He caresses tight hard orbs between my thighs and I feel ready to release. Again his hands return, a smooth thumb rubs across the tip, and I cry out and despite his hold on my hips, push forward. He pumps quickly now, seeing perhaps the milky fluid begin to flow, and I feel the rush of hot liquid as it moves through my groin. His hold tightens about me and my head tilts back and my mouth opens to a yell as he works his hand faster and faster. It is with a rush that I spill into his hand, coating both him and me. My breath is shallow and quick as I come down from the heights of pleasure. He rises and backs away from me. I see he is aroused too, and I admire his form.

He beckons me to the bed, and I walk slowly over. I lay down amidst the fur blankets of Rohan, arms resting on my stomach, legs outstretched. He comes to join me, moving over my body with grace. His stiffened organ grazes my arm, hand and stomach, and he positions himself above me. He straddles me at my waist, placing my arms to one side. I reach to him, but he shakes his head, instead he wraps his own hands around himself. I watch as he moves his hands slowly twice. Then one finger slides over the tip of his erection and captures two drops of pearl. He holds out his finger to me, and I lick at it. He tastes honey sweet and acid sour. "For you and him," he says as I swallow. I do not know what he means and I do not have time to wonder any further as he pushes a knee carefully between my thighs and wedges them apart. In the blink of an eye he is lifting my legs to his shoulders, and I feel his aroused organ trail down from my now flaccid one, across the still sensitive, moist slit. I let out an involuntary deep moan. Briefly he rubs himself over loose sacs, their contents spilt. He stops.

I gasp: surely he will not. "Be at peace, Prince of Mirkwood" says the voice in my head, "I will not harm you." I feel the gentle press at the entry to my body. Slowly with insistent pushes, the muscles give way, and true to his word there is no pain, only sweet pleasure.

I close my eyes as I lie buried in the pillows, I am tired from my own release, it has drained my energy as during no other time. I feel I have been drawn from myself, instilled with elixir and returned. But I am aware of the movement within me, almost imperceptivity he is sheathed and brushing against me so enticingly. He rocks me back and forth, his hands again at my hips. The hold is tight but not bruising. He glances at me, and although I cannot see his face, I know. A voice invades my mind but it speaks in words I do not understand, and I find it difficult to focus. I concentrate instead on the wizard within me, on his restrained movements. He thrusts slowly, and the feeling is delicious. I cannot help my cries aloud, yet he has not uttered a sound. I do not cry out his name, though, as I would if it were the other.

Without warning his speed quickens, and my breath hitches. There is no tearing as I thought there would be with no preparation, just a sleek, velvet feeling. A sliding, gliding, pulsing fills me. I rock my hips of my own accord now, matching his thrusts into me pushing, arching back to him as he pushes forward to me. His hand presses firmly on my hip, stopping my movements. He goes deep now, deep inside, touching untouched places. I hold my breath, and the voice comes again, and again the words mean nothing. I scream out, gulping in air as the sound recedes. More thrusting, more pleasure, still he utters no sound. I feel the pulsing member swell, and I await his coming. He fills my body to the very core with his hot essence. He relaxes, and I arch my tired back and stretch my legs, pressing down on his shoulders as I do. He withdraws from my body as slowly as he entered, and white still warm fluid releases with him; it pools on the bed, along my thighs.

As I let my body sag into the bed, I realise I have barely touched him, but he has set my body alight. But as sleep comes to claim me, I find that it is my beloved Lorien Warrior that I am close to. "Thank you" I whisper. The last thing I see is Gandalf the White, Wizard of Middle-earth, smile kindly at me and nod.

I wake and look around. I am in the bed in the room that I was shown to by a servant of Theoden soon after we arrived at Edoras. But . . . I shake my head. Was it a dream or some wizardry ? I wonder.

I bathe and dress hurriedly, going down swiftly to the main hall. Gandalf is sitting with Aragorn in deep conversation. As I enter he looks up. I question with my eyes, and he smiles an enigmatic smile and winks at me, then returns to his conversation. I am left wondering still as I take my place next to the Dwarf, and my heart and thoughts are again consumed by the Lorien March Warden. The debate--some may say argument--rages for most of the day, and Theoden is unmoved. His people will not go to war. I listen with half a mind and say nothing. It does not fall to an Elf to convince the World of Men that they will need to fight for Middle-earth.

The sun is moving to set and I am tired. I take my meal and bid them all goodnight. Gandalf bids me pleasant dreams and smiles. I cast a quizzical look but he has already turned back to Aragorn.

I sit on my bed, absentmindedly eating for I have no real appetite. 'So much longing' he had said. Yes, so much longing.

"I love you," I say to the night and lie down, wrapping my arms around myself.

The stars shine in the night sky as I watch them. I feel with him more at night for he watches the same stars.

The trees are tall and seem to sweep the sky. I smell the grass as it is crushed under my feet as I walk.

He is lying in the clearing, next to the base of the large tree. He rests his head on his pack, hair braided simply, as he is on patrol. Bow and quiver rest by his side. His cloak is pulled around him and I can discern the long fingers entwined in the fabric. He is elf and does not feel the cold nor heat, but he wraps himself tight. Why, I wonder. Does he feel the same need as I ?

I walk closer to him. I do not wish to disturb him, I want to look upon him. He is beautiful and he had pledged himself to me. I sit cross legged by his head and reach out a hand to touch his hair. At this he stirs and eyes that were glazed now are focused. He must be weary to allow me to move so near. His hand goes to his bow and then he smiles. "I am fortunate you are no Orc," he says.

"You would have stirred before an Orc was within a league of you", I press my hand to his cheek.

He laughs softly, a rare sound when he is with others, but he gifts me with it.

He takes my hand in his and kisses my palm as he sits up to face me.

"I am sorry," I say as he touches my cheek in return. He looks at me quizzically, tilts his head to one side, "I am sorry for leaving you, sorry for missing you so."

"If you are sorry, then I too must ask for forgiveness, for I have missed and longed for you also."

"But ...", I start to try to explain as I place my hand over his.

He places a finger over my lips, "Shh," he says silencing my words, " you are here. You came."

"But.......", before I can say more his lips cover mine and I am swept into his arms. His kiss is powerful as befits a warrior. I realise that how I came is not important, as he says, I am here. With him.

The kiss is passion itself. I am gasping as his mouth plunders mine. His agile tongue is everywhere, running over my teeth teasingly, twinning with my own. His hands roam my back and he tugs at the shirt under my tunic. He is skilled and soon he has his hands dancing on my naked skin. Intricate patterns he draws on my back with his fingers and nails. Leaves of Lorien he traces, binding me to his Wood. Binding me to him. My own hands trace across his back, under the thin layer of clothing he is wearing. He stretches his body and I feel the muscles flex into my touch. He places an elegant hand at the base of my spine and pulls me closer. I tumble on top of him as he does so and he is forced to the ground. He grins and I return the smile. Over our years together we have formed many subtle and not so subtle gestures to relay without words our needs and desires. If I so wished I could change our positions, asking for something else. But I have no desire to decline this invitation. I need to feel his body wrapped around mine. I have the need to feel the heat of his body, the sweet agony as his muscles clamp down on me as I strive for release, the exquisite look of pain and pleasure on his face as I enter him, his own desire for me written on his body as if the words themselves were scrawled across him.

I look long at him. Taking time to see what I have always seen but see anew each time we begin our love making. I move to place a knee either side of him, over his stomach I sit, still kneeling. Not touching him yet. My hand moves over dark eyebrows and his lashes flutter against my fingers. I follow the curve of the brows, stroking the corner of his eyes as his eyelids close over them. I hear him sigh and feel the warm exhaled breath on my lips. Over high cheek bones my fingers now wander and I lean close to kiss the tip of his nose. He giggles slightly, another gesture he only lets me see. My fingers are now caressing the tips of his ears and the giggle is replaced with a moan as I trace along the pointed tips and along the curve to the lobe. I suck on his right one, my tongue working itself around the arc of flesh, while my right hand continues to fondle the other. He cries out softly and twitches his head from side to side, trying to escape what I know is sweet torture for he inflicts it on me regularly. My attention turns to the long slender neck. I trail my hand down his right side, my tongue follows a path to his left shoulder. I am unable to resist soft bites as I go. He responds by growling those low sounds from the back of his throat that thrill me. I know I am arousing him and that causes me to growl in return.

His fingers tangled in my hair, stroking. Then he reaches down my back and drags his fingers down and up in long sweeping movements. I rise and sit back on my knees and begin to unlace his shirt. He lays his hands over mine and shakes his head. He moves my hands and begins to unfasten them himself, I nod and loosen the bindings on my clothing. Together we cast them aside. I glance down at his tight leggings, made tighter now for he is without doubt responding to the touches. No matter the years and times we have lain together, it is ever an excitement to see how he reacts to me. I look back at him and we both know what we are thinking, he nods his silver blond head ever so slightly and I slide my hands along the waist band, brushing across his hips and thighs before tucking my thumbs under the band and sliding the clothing off. I do this slowly, I revel in the unveiling of the temptation that is he. He watches my face all the time. I glance at him and grin. He wriggles a little, lifting his hips from the ground so that the garment glides off his body. I move down his body with the leggings, bending to kiss the flesh that is revealed. I studious avoid the erect organ as it is liberated from the restraints of cloth. He props himself up on his elbows and furrows his brow at me as I wink at him, "later," I mouth to him. He looks at my still clothed state and lowers his eyes indicating the need to remove them. I stand and as slowly as I unclothed him, I remove my own lower garment. I do not have to look to know he is watching with sparkling eyes. I kneel back down astride him, making sure our flesh meets in as many points as possible.

"I need you," he whispers and he places one long elegant leg over my shoulder. He wraps the other round my waist, drawing me closer to him. I smile at his eagerness. I start when I feel fingers coursing over my erection, squeezing small drops and spreading the thick warm liquid over my pulsing flesh. He is preparing me. "Now," he utters seductively, guiding me toward that hot tight entrance to his exquisite body. He grips me tight with his thighs as I position my body. In one movement I delve deep within him. He gasps in pain and pleasure. As I begin to rock back and forth, sliding in and out of him, he takes my hand and touches it to himself. He thrusts into my hand and I wrap my fingers around him. "So good," he yelps, clutching at the ground beneath him. I continue to plunder deep in his body, the sweet sounds of pleasure that he utters spurs my movements, and I join in the cascade of sound as the muscles around me flex and relax in rhythmic waves. Soon we are as one in our motions. I notice that his hand has joined mine over his erect organ and we are pleasuring equally.

For how long we exist, one body, one soul, I do not know, as time drifts with no meaning. The power of our joining increases and we both are aware that with the rising tempo we driving each other to release. I look into his eyes and he nods. We scream to the stars as one voice. I from a place deep within him, he over our linked hands. I withdraw from him and he unwraps his legs from me. I lie on top of him, licking at the beads of sweat from his shoulder, rubbing my body against his, spreading the evidence of his desire into both our skins. I wish to carry his scent. He bends his head to my shoulder and as I feel his teeth bite deep, I mirror his actions. I taste his blood as it flows into my mouth, the sting on my neck tells me he is lapping from me also. I roll off him and nestle into his arms, we are both exhausted and spent. This is bliss for me, there is no greater happiness than to lie with him. He strokes my damp hair, "Legolas, " he purrs my name as only he can, "I love you." I wonder how so simple a statement can become my world. "Haldir of Lorien," I return, "I love thee with all that is Legolas." He smiles and kisses my cheek. We rest as our breathing becomes less laboured, less shallow. Slowly we replace our clothing.

"Walk with me," he asks and I nod, he knows I will refuse him nothing, even if my wish is to sink back into the sweet grass and hold him. We walk through tall grass, cutting our own path. I do not know where he is leading me, never have I been on the outer borders of the west. The trees are old here and they speak of much that has passed. He lets go of my hand and walks over to the base of the largest golden tree in the cluster before us. I cannot see what he is doing as he kneels to the ground. He utters a few words that I cannot discern and then rises, he hands held behind him. As he approaches, he smiles. It dazzles me and I am glad he saves this for me. He is close and he holds out his hands. Two small silver flowers sit cradled in his palms. He picks up one and presses it to his lips and then offers it to me. I take it from him, my eyes not leaving his. I take the other from his hand and kiss the fragrant petals, offering it back to him. He places it under his tunic, sliding it into the fabric, "close to my heart, as you are," he says. I hold mine in my hand.

As I watch the stars shine and the moon catches on his hair. We sink now into the grass, I pull his cloak around us both. His eyes glaze, as he murmurs my name and adds "I love you." I whisper the same three words back to him as I stroke his hair and he sleeps in my arms.

I wake as the sun warms my face and I blink back the light. "Haldir," I call, but my arms are empty. I am in Edoras. Not Lorien. A tear falls down my cheek unchecked. I lift a hand to push back my hair. I look at my hand. I uncurl my fingers. A small silver flower, tipped with gold sits there. I bring it to my lips and kiss its petals. I rise. I cannot wait for the night.

End