The Folly of Starlight 9. Goldilox by AC

I look at you
And I know who you are
You're just a little bit too far
From my home



Lost in the blazing flame of those sea-hued eyes, Elrond felt as a moth dancing upon the edge of the folly of surrender and the regrets of restraint. He lingered in the other's smile-lit gaze for as long as he dared, then reluctantly wrenched himself back to the safety of the lesson. "What is that in the east, just above the horizon?" he directed with gesturing arm.

Legolas stared in the general direction, peered intently at what was obviously an unfamiliar tangle of stars, then finally shook his head in defeat. "I... I do not know anything in that region of the sky," he guiltily admitted, his voice dripping with awkward disappointment.

Determined to bring the prince to the victory of realization of his own knowledge, Elrond more insistently gestured to the eastern sky. "There -- just sailing into the sky above the trees. Meduicair, the Last Ship."

"I am sorry, I cannot see it."

With the tenacity of a loyal tutor, the elder elf urged, "Let me help you." Elrond carefully sidled up behind Legolas, his right arm raised above Legolas' shoulder, just beside the young elf's face, and pointed skyward. He had often used the very same technique to teach the stars to his children, and had always found it to be the most effective. "Sight along my arm. There, the brightest star marks the bow, and there is the deck and the bottom of the ship and the stern. And those stars mark the sails. Do you see it now?"

Please say you do, for I cannot bear to remain this close to you without daring a touch. With held breath, he awaited an epiphany which did not come.

"No, I still cannot," Legolas replied in a raspy, hesitant voice.

The shock of surprise slightly stiffened Elrond's flesh. Was that a lie I hear? His body betrays him, then. Daring the simplest test of his speculation, he leaned forward, completing the contact, his chest pressing gently against the prince's back, his arm resting upon the slender shoulder. "Here, let me try again."

Elrond closed his eyes, not paying attention to the stars or the night or even the prince's answer. All he could feel was the sensation of that bow-toned back resisting the forward pressure of this chest, yet yielding subtly in its own way. His ears drank in the ever increasing rasp of the other's uneasy breath, his nose enticed and tormented by the familiar scent of the forest lingering in the golden hair and the unique and personal perfume of the prince's flesh itself. He barely felt the slight, slow tilt of the prince's head toward his arm, and held his breath as he felt the sleeve of his robe shift around him.

"I... I think I see it now," Legolas breathed most unconvincingly.

"Good," Elrond managed to mutter, savoring the satisfaction of knowing he was not the only one succumbing to the madness of the moment. I should remove my arm, as he has either seen the stars, or he no longer cares if he does. Yet Elrond found that he somehow could not. If he moved, he would have to either break the contact of their bodies, or increase its vigor, and he was loathe to do either, for far different reasons. It had been so very long since he had felt so intoxicated by the simple presence of another, had found such delights in the chaste yet strangely erotic pleasure brought by the contact of his fully clothed flesh against that of another.



But please don't get me wrong
Even though it has been long
I hope I never sing my last song
Without someone




Yet, that same realization of the rapture of long-forgotten simple pleasures brought with it another, more unwelcome visitor -- the specter of the future, and the end of any chance for exploring the bliss obtainable in Middle-earth

"Over the night, it will sail toward the west, finally setting beyond our view, just as we will all pass into the west, someday," Elrond hushedly explained, a piquant taste of sadness in his voice, and in his heart. Unable to deny his need for the reassurance of the other's touch, he brushed his lips forward, catching a taste of the silken hair.

A sharp moan murmured in his throat at the sensation of Legolas shifting back into him, completing the contact of their bodies from head to foot. There was no denying the mutuality of the desire, no possibility of disguising the urgency of his need, now pressed firmly against the firm, rounded cheeks tucked tightly within the other's form fitted leggings. Yes, Elrond had made his intent as clear as the light of Ithil above -- now it was time to allow the other the chance to either accept or reject what was being freely offered. In encouraging response to the unspoken questioning, Legolas leaned firmly against the other's arm, curling his head into the tight private space created between bicep and shoulder. Elrond remained stilled in body and breath, still uncertain whether this be a waking dream, or a dream awakening into reality.

The soft, sweet sound of Legolas' voice raised in song -- that accursed song -- made him realize it was the latter, only in time to regret it.



I stand behind you
And I watch you from a mile away
I'm wishing you could be the one...



His sword was long, his lance was keen,
his shining helm afar was seen;
the countless stars of heaven's field
were mirrored in his silver shield.


Without consciously meaning to, Elrond stiffened, slid his arm away from Legolas' touch and stepped away from the illusory promise of happiness. The pangs of loss he had suffered upon finding his delicious visions of the night before had been merely fantasy paled in comparison with now watching his delight-filled reality crash in flames around him. The ghosts... the ghosts haunted him from Mandos' halls, even as he clung to the tiniest of glimpses happiness.

Legolas whipped around and stared at Elrond in silent incredulity, his far-too expressive eyes dripping with loss and utter bewilderment.

Elrond stood stone-faced, but his knew the pain he felt welled up in his eyes told the tale of his endless agony, as well as his ashamed foolishness. How could he believe this to be anything but the folly of starlight, the illusion of Ithil? In a pain drenched whisper he completed Legolas' innocently sung stanza.

But long ago he rode away,
and where he dwelleth none can say;
for into darkness fell his star
in Mordor where the shadows are.


He paused for a lingering moment, his eyes piercing into Legolas' very heart, then found he could not bear both the passion he found contained therein, and the pain of perplexity and frustration he had brought to that unearthly lovely countenance. Without another word he sharply turned to leave, escaping to the solitude of his own rooms where he could be alone with his shame and his guilt. Left behind was the remainder of his heart --the portion which the senseless passing of ages had not already stolen from him. He hoped that Legolas would someday understand... he hoped that one day he could understand....



But not here, this way
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