Author: Jessie-chan
Pairing: Legolas / Boromir; Legolas / Aragorn
Rating: Possibly R
Warning(s): angst; AU
Summary: What if Legolas had been tempted by the Ring?
Disclaimer: The characters don't belong to me. If they did, I wouldn't be writing fanfic. I would be rolling in money and celebrating my good fortunes while putting everyone in smutty situations. Instead, they belong to the Tolkien Estate.
Feedback: Welcomed and appreciated. I might send you a cookie if you send me feedback. ^_^
Beta: none.
Archive: I hereby bequeath permission to archive this to Characters in Bloom and LOTR_Adult_Fiction. Anywhere else, I beg you to ask. I'll likely give you permission.
Author's Notes: This is what happens when I work on my Honors Thesis (which is on evil in The Lord of the Rings) right before I go to bed: I have strange dreams involving members of the Fellowship in naughty situations. And this one I actually remembered upon waking. I thought it was an interesting concept, so I thought I'd give it a shot. And this is the result.
"The Temptation of Legolas" was originally a one-shot, though--but the story apparently has a mind of its own, so it took over and evolved into this big, huge story...quest...thing. The original one-shot became the prologue, with some minor adjustments. In my vain attempt to be original, this is what came out. Anyway, hope you enjoy!
The Temptation of Legolas
Legolas had repeatedly told himself, as the Fellowship
traveled across rock and hill, up Caradhras and back
down, that Sauron's One Ring was merely a small
trinket, nothing more. He had no use for such
trinkets, so he told himself, and logic stated that he
didn't want the Ring. He had no desire for it
whatsoever.
So when Frodo tripped over a loose stone in the dark, unwelcoming confines of Moria and the Ring slipped from his grasp, Legolas watched as it bounced down the steep stone steps, almost mesmerized by its up-and-down motion. It rolled past Aragorn, who took a step back; past Merry and Pippin, who dodged behind Aragorn to avoid it; and past Boromir, who watched the golden ring go past him with glittering eyes. The Ring struck Legolas' brown suede boot and fell over onto the stone with a soft clink.
The entire Fellowship was silent as he looked down at it, moving his foot back a few inches. The small circle stared back up at him, like an empty eye socket glaring at him. His heart was pounding in his pointed ears, and his breath came in short, sharp bursts. It almost seemed as if someone had begun whispering very softly in his ear, and he unconsciously clenched his left fist. The voice was whispering his name, telling him to pick up the small Ring, the useless thing.
Legolas was vaguely aware of Gandalf moving towards him, watching him as he stared down at the Ring, listening to the soft whisperings in his ears. Promises of Sauron's destruction, of a tremendous gift he could have: the gift of beauty. Legolas could become Lord of Mordor, and he could rid the land of Sauron and of the Orcs and other fell creatures and create a realm of beautiful forests and gardens, populated with Elves and other creatures of wonder and beauty. He would never have the need to long for Valinor; he would have created a new Valinor in Middle-earth. All he had to do was pick up the Ring.
Gandalf watched as the Prince of Mirkwood stared down at the object before him, his lips slightly parted and his breath rasping from between them. His deep blue eyes were slowly widening as the Ring told him its secrets, told him everything he could have if he only picked it up. Gandalf reached out to Legolas, trying to distract him from the Ring, but Aragorn caught the wizard by the sleeve of his robe, shaking his head in caution.
"Gandalf, wait," he said softly. Then the Ranger turned to look behind him. "Frodo, come get the Ring," he called quietly.
As the hobbit moved past Gandalf to retrieve the Ring, Legolas dropped to a knee, reaching down to pick the Ring up, mindless of the hardness of the stone beneath his knee. The temptation was too great; he could no longer withstand it, and he longed to have the ability to destroy the Dark Lord and rid the world of his malice.
As his fingers came within centimeters of brushing against the Ring, Aragorn lunged forward, followed closely by Boromir. Catching him by the arms, they hauled the Elven Prince to his feet and away from the Ring. He let out a sharp cry of protest and tried to wrestle free from the Men's grips. "Let me go!" he demanded. "Let go!"
"Legolas, calm down!" Gandalf ordered, stepping forward. Legolas flailed and tried to kick the wizard, and Gandalf took a quick step back. "What is wrong with you?"
"Why should a mere Halfling carry the Great Ring?" Legolas said in a furious voice, still struggling against Aragorn's and Boromir's strong hands. "Why should we place the fate of the world in such a weak thing's hands? We should give it to someone strong, and noble, and worthy!"
"And you've already proven yourself incapable of the task," Gandalf snapped, allowing Frodo to retrieve the Ring.
Legolas tried once again to pull himself free, and he managed to rip his arm from Aragorn's grasp. But Boromir hung on, leaning over and murmuring in his ear, "I know what you've felt," before letting go.
Legolas stumbled slightly as he was freed, and he reached down and smoothed out his tunic, attempting to look completely unaffected by the manhandling he'd just received. But the knowing look Boromir gave him told him that the Man knew otherwise. Legolas made a mental note to ask him about his whispered confession as soon as the Fellowship was free from Moria's confines.
***
The beauty of Lothlorien could do nothing to ease the sadness Legolas felt as he wandered through the wondrous woods. His thoughts lingered on Gandalf and the fall he'd taken in Moria. Legolas sought solace and comfort amongst the Galadhrim for many days before wandering back to the remains of the Fellowship one night, walking softly across the grass and observing them as they slept.
Aragorn and Gimli were nearby, the Dwarf lying on his back with soft snores issuing forth from his mouth and nose. Aragorn was sitting upright, his back against a silver-barked tree, dozing. The four hobbits lay on soft cushions on the grass, their faces peaceful in sleep. Looking upon Frodo, Legolas could see the peace he so obviously felt in his sleep and thought that it would probably be the last time he felt such peace. The burden of the Ring would become much worse.
His thoughts of the Ring made his eyes sweep across the surroundings once more, and he realized that Boromir was missing. The man was nowhere in sight, so after a moment's hesitation, Legolas began to search, wandering almost carelessly through the trees.
He almost missed the hunched figure near a trickling stream of crystal-clear water. He stopped and looked in Boromir's direction; he had yet to notice Legolas, so the Elf took the opportunity to look the man over.
Boromir's shaggy, somewhat greasy hair hung in his face as he stared down into the trickling water, which rushed musically over the white stones lining its bed. He had removed his black tunic and boots, and was sitting comfortably against the tree trunk behind him. Legolas inched a little closer, attempting to draw the man's attention to himself, before giving up and walking towards him in clear view.
"What did you mean?" Legolas asked succintly, stepping into view of the man seated against the tree.
Boromir startled and looked up at Legolas, his gray eyes wide and thoughtful, yet his face definitely full of pride. "What are you talking about?"
"'I know what you've felt,'" Legolas quoted, sitting on the grass at Boromir's feet. "Or perhaps I heard you incorrectly?"
A look of comprehension came over Boromir's face, and he nodded slowly. "You heard correctly," he murmured, looking past Legolas and to the trickling stream.
"What did you mean?" Legolas asked, stretching his legs out and crossing them at the ankles. He propped on his hands and looked up at the man curiously.
"Just that."
Sensing that he wasn't about to get any more from the man, Legolas shrugged and looked to the stream himself. "It's beautiful here, isn't it?"
"It is," Boromir agreed, but the tone of his voice made Legolas turn his head to look at him; he discovered the man staring at him intensely. "I find the view most...pleasant."
Legolas shook off the uncomfortable feeling that came over him and shifted his eyes to the stream once again. The water trickled quietly over the white stones lining its stream-bed, the faint bluish light that filtered through the mallorn-trees casting faint, watery shadows over the stones. Legolas closed his eyes, focusing on the sound of the water, relaxing.
"It's hard, isn't it?" Boromir asked, startling the Elf from his reverie. Legolas looked up at him once again. The man's eyes were large and questioning, yet they held a certain knowledge gained from experience and hard lessons learned. "Knowing that that thing is in the hands of such a pathetic creature," Boromir continued, leaning back against the tree trunk. He was no longer staring at the stream, his eyes fixed on Legolas; a strange gleam was in them.
"I don't know if I would call Frodo 'pathetic,'" Legolas said uncertainly.
"Oh, but you already have," Boromir replied. "Only in a few more words." He paused. "You want the Ring for yourself."
"Speak not of the thing while we are in the gardens of Lothlorien," Legolas said softly. "Evil has no place here."
"Yet evil walks among us," Boromir said. "At least, while the Ring still exists."
"I've asked you not to speak of it."
"Why?" Boromir slid from the tree and sidled up to Legolas' side. The Elf swallowed nervously; the man was almost too close for comfort. "Why should I not speak of it? You crave it. You've craved it since we left Rivendell, haven't you? You've wanted it almost as long as I have."
His voice dropped as he spoke, until it was the barest of whispers, and Legolas was uncertain if Boromir was still talking of the One Ring, or if he was referring to something else entirely. He shifted slightly, attempting to hide the discomfort he felt.
"I am unsure I understand what you are talking about," Legolas said, "and I've asked you to not speak of it twice. Please do not mention it any longer. Not here."
Boromir reached up and ran his calloused, sword-roughened fingers against Legolas' smooth jawbone. "You're a pretty thing, Prince of Mirkwood." Startled at his mention of his status in his father's kingdom, Legolas looked up at him, into his gray eyes. "Almost too pretty. I hope you don't find yourself...TOO tempted by anything...bad." With this as his final words, Boromir stood and moved off into the trees, in the direction of the rest of the Fellowship, leaving Legolas sitting on the grass beside the stream, his jaw still tingling from Boromir's touch and his mind swirling with confusion and doubt.
The following night, and every night thereafter that the Fellowship tarried in Lothlorien, Legolas took Gimli with him everywhere he went for added protection. Against what, he wasn't sure.