A fluffy, fun little ficlet featuring the secret affair between a rugged ranger turned king of men, and a certain elf Prince of Mirkwood :) This does reference some male on male action. Don't like it? Then don't read it, silly!

Disclaimer: I don't own anything. Not even one elf.

A Ride the Morning After

As the sun committed to its morning ascension, the long disbanded but still fiercely loyal Fellowship of the Ring woke at rosy dawn's light, respectively ambling out to the stables. They had made these plans awhile back, founded upon a lighthearted conversation during which they decided it might be fun to ride together again as they had in the old days. However, this time around, their lackadaisical frolicking through Gondor would be brimming with laughter and playful reminiscence, and severely lacking danger or imminent death.

And so when the host of old friends had made arrangements to visit Minas Tirith mutually, it seemed only natural that they agreed to ride.

Aragorn, the ever accommodating ruler of the land, cordially had the horses saddled by the stable hands before anybody arrived, anxious to get underway with no patience for lollygaggers. As king, it had become customary for Aragorn to relish in the magic of time, spending every minute productive.

Aragorn smiled to himself as one hand lazily stroked the powerful torso of his stallion. He felt that the last few hours had been extremely productive. And pleasurable, which was good because the royal advisors had recently advised that Aragorn try and have more fun as he was becoming too overwrought. The thing was, Aragorn had no problem letting himself go every once in awhile. It just required the right person to nudge him into the ecstasy of letting loose.

The hobbits came striding down to the stables first, strung together in a foursome that refused to be parted.

"Good morning," Aragorn greeted them cheerfully with a wave of his gloved hand.

"Mornin,'" Pippin sang out in his melodic accented tone. "You're up early."

"I was excited this morning," Aragorn admitted. "Had a thrilling night, and couldn't sleep anymore."

"Those papers you were trying pass?" Frodo quirked an eyebrow. "Did legislation sign them to law?"

Aragorn blinked, nearly angry with himself for letting those papers slip his mind. It wasn't a very kingly thing to do; completely neglect the very documents that had consumed his courtroom for the past month. However, he was much too exhilarated to berate himself. It was, after all, his official morning off.

"Yes," Aragorn grinned, his mind flashing back to the victorious celebration he had enjoyed the previous night. "They did, finally."

"Good for you," Sam grinned doggedly. "Those laws were smart, Aragorn. They'll be good, in the long run, you know."

Aragorn could hardly keep himself from jumping up and down at the praise. He was a dignified king, however, he was really on a roll in terms of the small triumphs he continued to have.

"Thank you, Sam," Aragorn beamed.

As he spoke, Merry who was bumbling about nearby, promptly rammed his head into a stable door.

"Merry!" cried Pippin, his voice laced with concern. "Are you alright?"

Merry turned around slowly, all eyes present trained on him.

"Sorry, about that," the Halfling hummed. "I guess…I'm just so tired."

Gimli and Faramir meandered down next. Faramir was not a part of the fellowship. However, seeing as they were quite fond of him, and he was a nice memory of Borimir to revel in, the men were pleased to invite him on their ride. They exchanged pleasantries, both men anxious to know how Aragorn's council meeting had gone, and thrilled to hear of its success.

Finally, the last of the fellowship was spotted on the crest of the hill. All elegant limbs and golden muscles and fair, cascading locks, Legolas descended upon the stables with unparalleled poise and elfish grace. His limber form outlined by the rising sun, it was so picturesque that every member of the group turned to gaze at his arrival.

Legolas grinned his dainty, mischievous smile as he greeted the others hello, a twinkle in his sapphire-like eyes.

"Good morning, Aragorn," he whispered as he finally turned to the other man with raised eyebrows, as though he had uncovered his king's deepest secret.

"Morning," Aragorn chewed on the word, drawing it out as he strode to his horse. Mounting the steed with ease, the king of men pointed towards the woods.

"Let's ride out over the range to Lake Gilligan. It's beautiful there in the morning," Aragorn said. And the others had to agree.

The hobbits aided each other in clambering atop their horses, chuckling as they did so. Insisting he didn't need help (Dwarves are natural horse masters), Gimli struggled to mount his enormous equine, leaving Faramir to shrug and climb atop his own horse.

Legolas seemed to be oddly preoccupied whilst the others took a few moments to mount, staring between the wide torso of his animal and his own booted feet as Aragorn observed curiously.

"Legolas," huffed Gimli as he settled upon his horse. "Do you need the horse to invite you aboard? Nay, let's go."

Legolas licked his lips, almost nervously, and scuffled his feet against the ground.

"On second thought, friends," the prince of Mirkwood said. "I don't think I'll be joining you today."

An eruption of protests filled the stable, as the others refused to hear of it. Only Aragorn did not raise his voice as he continued to watch the elf's stressed expression.

"I just don't," Legolas went on in a taut voice, "think I'm up for a ride today."

"Why not?" demanded Frodo incredulously.

"I'm afraid I put myself through an intense physical work out yesterday evening, gentlemen," Legolas stated delicately, and Aragorn nearly choked on his spit. "Much athletic practice and exercise. It was rigorous, and I now find myself sore."

"That's strange," Faramir raised his eyebrows as things didn't quite seem to fit, and Legolas swallowed hard. "I was at the training ground all day, and I didn't see you."

"Uhm—well, actually," Legolas continued, his tone flimsy. "I was out in the woods."

"The woods?!" Pippin chirped in horror. "But Legolas, surely you've heard. The woods are off limits by law. It's not safe since that band of criminals has been camping out there."

"Not those woods," Legolas rushed to say. "The other woods. The southern woods."

"Those are the southern woods," Faramir stated, seemingly unsure of the himself.

"Well, if so," said Legolas tersely. "The ban on the area must have slipped my mind. I offer you my most sincere apologies, Aragorn. I hope you do not decide to arrest me."

The others among the group tittered, assumedly forgetting about Legolas's series of wavering excuses, and Aragorn cleared his throat.

"I might let this one slide," Aragorn shrugged. "If you ride with us."

Legolas began to nearly sweat as the others snickered at his dilemma, chiding him for his stupidity. Elves do not perspire, obviously, but if they could, Aragorn knew Legolas would have been reduced to a quivering puddle.

They locked eyes then, suddenly engaged in a battle of will. Aragorn took a strange pleasure in anticipating the discomforted Legolas's next move. Pushing his endless limits, doing what it took to wear him down. Humanizing Legolas was the only way to win his respect. You had to manage to beat him at a game his immortality made impossible. Fortunately, Aragorn had an influence on the elf prince that nobody else had. He intended to utilize it.

It was the middle of the night. In celebration of his laws being past, Aragorn had treated himself to a glass of wine and indulged in a celebration of one. There was a momentary knock on the door as somebody asked for entrance. Aragorn was glad to have the company.

"Alright," Legolas stammered with a shrug as though it was easy. "Of course, I'll ride with you."

The others all voiced their gladness at this, six men ogling Legolas as he wearily eyed the horse and calculated his ascent. Shifting his weight from side to side, Legolas winced only just, and Aragorn was certain he was the only one who noticed it. It was only then that Aragorn realized how much of a challenge he had actually presented to his elf friend.

The Mirkwood prince steeled himself against his sore limbs and hauled himself atop the animal, cringing noticeably as he rocked back in the saddle.

"Never seen you so uncomfortable on a horse, elf," taunted the dwarf.

"My muscles are aching, Gimli," Legolas reminded him in a flat, monotone that still managed to chime like silver bells.

Gimli looked Legolas up and down, then cocked his head and bluntly stated, "Strange place to ache."

Faramir along with the hobbits laughed at Legolas's embarrassment as the men peeled one by one out the stables and took to the hills with fervor, soaring seamlessly over fields of lush green.

Aragorn kept a close eye on Legolas. They did like to play these unspoken games from time to time. These playful, "how far can I push you?" amusements. And although it was always just honest fun, they were acutely aware of the others feelings, because neither really wanted to push the other that far.

Aragorn was equipped with a drink that was a favorite of Legolas's when the elf had arrived. They soon found themselves a little bit tipsy and a little bit frisky, sprawled out by the fire with huge, adopted-orphan smiles pasted to their faces.

The elf had never looked tenser to Aragorn, his milky skin stretched tight over his somber expression. The tightened jaw as they neared a bump or a log, the pained grimace as they finally reached it. His smarting legs were clenching and unclenching around the body of the horse, and Aragorn was exceedingly conscious of this subtle movement as they rode along.

All in all, the fellowship concluded that it had been great fun when they reached the lake, consenting to lie out in the sun and savor the moment for a little while.

Legolas took his sweet time dismounting, wearily gauging the burn in his thigh region as the others found places to bask in the glow of the sun.

"You must be really hurting, Legolas," commented Frodo worriedly. "Are you alright?"

"Yes," Legolas smiled pleasantly. "Like I said. Just weary from training yesterday."

"Do you need a hand, mellon nin?" Aragorn offered, reached upwards to aid Legolas. It was an out, they both knew it. By accepting Aragorn's help, Legolas was consenting to his loss.

The elf's muscles begged for him to take the deal and walk away from the game, bundling up the dignity he had left. However, the pride of Thandruil which pulsed through his veins forced him to smile coolly and pull away, saying, "Thank you, old friend. But I'll be fine."

Aragorn watched, very nearly disturbed by the amount of discomfort Legolas exhibited as he rolled to the ground. However, the king wasn't all too worried, knowing the injury would be sustained.

They had engaged in a friendly argument over who was the strongest, and soon they were lazily rolling about the floor, throwing lethargic punches and laughing heartily.

"What sort of exercise were you doing?" Faramir inquired with a flinch. "Its effects are cruel."

"The usual," Legolas answered as he floated to the ground. "Agility training, archery."

"And yet," Gimli pointed out suspiciously. "Your arms aren't sore."

Legolas appeared to be at a loss for an excuse, and Aragorn winced.

"You were asking for that one," the king thought towards the elf.

As though Legolas had read his thoughts, he shot a piercing glare in the king's direction, although he doubted anybody saw it.

Saving Legolas from imminent humiliation, Merry gave a groan nearby.

"What is it?" Sam asked, looking up at his fellow hobbit.

"I'm exhausted," Merry stated. "I can barely move."

"Rough night?" Aragorn inquired, shooting a sideways glance to a stiffened Legolas.

"I didn't sleep at all," Merry sighed. "What, with all the racket outside."

"What racket?" Frodo cocked his head. "I heard nothing."

"There was this endless series of moans and screams down the hall," Merry shrugged. "I haven't the foggiest what it was. But it kept me up all through the night."

Legolas landed in a drunken heap on top of the king, laughing all the while, and suddenly Aragorn found himself intoxicated by the elf's honey scent.

The king and Legolas whipped towards each other, their eyes meeting in horror. Now, they were both doomed.

"Oh yes," recalled Merry with a finger tapping the cleft of his chin. "And there was this sick rocking sound, like something hitting the wall over and over.

Passionate kisses were exchanged. Eyes darkened with lust.

"I wonder what that was," Pippin pondered aloud.

"Could have been anything," Gimli pointed out. "Maybe a nosy critter got into the walls somehow."

The vicious removal of clothing.

"The palace maids could have been working nearby," offered up Frodo. "When they beat out the rugs, that's awful loud. And you know how they love to gossip late into the night.

Scrambling for the sheets.

"Or the cook may have been up late," Faramir suggested. "Those pots stir up quite an uproar when they clang together."

Legolas and Aragorn stared at each other, both of them feverishly trying to riddle out what the rocking sound might have been.

"I thought it might have been that visiting lady from Rohan," Merry shrugged. "She seems like the emotional kind; you know, she probably has reason to sob all through the night."

At that moment, Aragon's stomach seized. His eyes widened and he mouthed to Legolas, "The bed."

Amongst their heated groans, the rhythmic thump of Aragorn's bed hitting the wall thundered consistently in the background.

Legolas nodded shallowly, a spark of recognition igniting in his eyes. Aragorn stared at the elf's distress and fought back the urge to snicker at the entire situation.

"Aragorn?" Merry snapped. "Did you hear me?"

"Oh, yes," Aragorn nodded rapidly. "I, too, think Lady Malynn is the emotional kind."

They all seemed to agree that she was the culprit.

It had dragged on into the morning hours, neither of them willing to stop considering how electrifying it had been.

She had to be the source of the crazed screams and deafening clatter.

When it was all said and done, they had clung to each other for the remainder of the night, cuddling close in the warm confines of the royal bed.

"Those noble women," Gimli started with an eye roll. "They're always flying off the handle. Back home, the women of the dwarf colonies would never waste their sleeping hours crying over nothing.

And there was no awkwardness in their cherishing of each other afterwards, because it had not been the first time. In fact, the elf and the king had been engaged in this scandalous, illicit affair for awhile. They'd been indulged in similar relations every day for the past several months. And every night ended with, "I love you."

"They sure as hell are going to spend it sleeping," drawled Gimli as though this was a blatantly obvious, universally known fact.

But never had it been so fervent. So long. So hard.

Wordlessly, Aragorn reached out and intimately squeezed Legolas's hand, certain that none of the others were looking.

"You and your dwarf stories, Gimli," Frodo chuckled. "They make me wish I was a dwarf."

"Nay," Gimli shook his head. "You make a better hobbit."

Merri yawned loudly at that moment, and Legolas felt compelled to say, "I'm very sorry that this mysterious clamor has exhausted you so."

"And I'm sorry about your injuries," Merri stated kindly, and if an elf could blush, Legolas would have been flushed scarlet. "No matter. Whatever it was, I just hope it doesn't happen again."

When the conversation had turned to another topic of idle musings, Aragorn whispered softly to his lover, "It's definitely happening again."

"After today?" Legolas grit his teeth. "You'll be lucky if I ever come to your bed again."

"Tonight," Aragorn continued as though Legolas hadn't spoken. "After midnight in my chambers."

Legolas pretended to be mulling over a refusal, but they both knew he could never refuse. Neither of them could. They were clandestinely addicted to each other.

After a drawn out pause, Legolas finally swallowed hard and murmured, "Quietly, this time."

Aragorn chuckled soundlessly and whispered back, "I can be quiet, mellon nin. You, I'm not so sure about."

Another prime opportunity for Legolas to turn the shade of a rose.

"This is been nice," Frodo declared to the rest of the group, and they all merrily agreed.

"You know what?" Sam spoke up. "I think we should all start tomorrow with a ride as well."

Every member of the group raised their voices in concord, accept Legolas and Aragorn. Legolas, because he was mortified. Aragorn, because he was snickering.

"I think that's a brilliant idea," Aragorn clapped his hands, eliciting a string of cheers.

"They're going to catch us," Legolas insisted softly once everyone else had turned away and picked up another conversation. "Sooner or later they're going to put it all together, and then they'll know."

Aragorn shook his head with a happy sigh of contentment as he discreetly pressed a kiss to Legolas's cheek. Just barely grazing his lips.

"They'll never find out," he whispered.

Author's Note: Yay friends! You have (hopefully) made it through my first ever fanfiction. Here's hoping you comment or favorite. If any of you request it, it would make a fun mini series. I'd happily work on a series of drabbles in which the fellowship very nearly catches Aragorn and Legolas in the midst of their...affection ;-) Let me know if you want any more!