Author's Note: This is my first fic for LotR. Hope ya like. I don't know
all that much about Aragorn's background as Estel, except from what I've
read in other people's fics, so I've taken a lot of license with his
upbringing in Rivendell. Nothing extreme, though. Also, the first song is
Tolkien's, the second one is loosely based on two separate Celtic tunes,
with a personal touch.
Disclaimer: Don't own 'em, wish I did, I'd be a freakin' millionaire.
Setting: Arrival in Lothlorien, "Fellowship"
Warnings: A little bit of A/L, but not graphic in the least, and could be interpreted a lot of different ways. Don't like it, don't read.
Translation: nin mellon - my friend, estel - hope, ada - father (I think; didn't have a reference to check)
// - denotes song *** - denotes flashback
Longing for Lorien ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The night that the Fellowship reached the comforting woods of Lothlorien, Legolas thought his heart would break with relief, even if he had to listen to the laments of Gandalf throughout the night. The hobbits were weary, and even the dwarf, once he had seen that there was nothing malevolent in Galadriel, was more than willing to stop and rest. But his human companions were not so consoled by the thought of rest in the Lorien. Boromir, for his part, was uneasy and frightened for reasons known only to himself and Legolas, and Aragorn seemed exhausted beyond reckoning.
Legolas lay down in the middle of their sleeping ground, burying himself to the ears in soft, fragrant golden leaves. He looked up at the stars beyond the canopy of the forest, watching them wheel slowly and surely through the dark sky as he hummed and whispered along with the songs honoring and grieving over the fall of Gandalf.
On the far edge of their sleeping ground, Aragorn stood beyond the glow of the trees and listened as voices of blame berated his mind.
~You are responsible for his death. You should have been the one to stay behind and ward back the beast. To send an old man!-no. It should have been me, to fall into darkness. I am more expendable than the wizard. And now it's too late. I'm left to lead this company, who puts all their trust in me...and what should happen if I should fail? The hobbits are as children..and if I cannot lead so small a company, who am I to rule a race?~
Aragorn closed his eyes and cupped his aching head in one cold, callused hand, and wondered how long it would be until he snapped like an overwound bowstring.
He stilled and listened to the singing echoing through the trees.
~Oh Mithrandir...~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Legolas noticed Aragorn, even though he knew Aragorn did not want to be noticed. Even though his eyes were closed in relaxation, his lungs full of the sweet comforting breath of trees as he listened to the slow steady breathing of the company around him, he knew exactly when Aragorn left their sleeping ground and went deeper into the forest alone.
He sat up silently. In the shimmering light of Lothlorien, the dark night glade seemed almost as bright as day. He could not sleep when Aragorn suffered so; he knew that much, anyway.
He followed Aragorn's trail in the darkness, walking as light as heather over the fallen leaves, making no noise. Even though Aragorn had been raised among elves, his sheer weight and size made it impossible for him to come through the woods without sound for Legolas to be able to follow him by.
He soon caught up with Aragorn. The Dunadan had found a clearing in the trees and stood in it, singing a song that Frodo had sung hours before, only singing it in Elvish, sharing it with the immortals in the trees around them:
// When evening in the Shire was grey his footsteps on the Hill were heard; before the dawn he went away on journey long without a word.
From Wilderland to Western shore, from northern waste to southern hill through dragon-lair and hidden door and darkling woods he walked at will. //
Legolas sung the next verse, his voice a soft, sweet bell in the woods:
// With Dwarf and Hobbit, Elves and Men, with mortal and immortal folk with bird on bough and beast in den, in their own secret tongues he spoke. //
Aragorn jumped, which was exactly the type of reaction that Legolas had been going for. The elf came up to stand behind him, smiling with gentle mirth when Aragorn turned to him in surprise. "Caught off your guard again, Ranger? Arwen told me she was able to place a blade to your neck without you even hearing her. I do believe your skills are dulling with mortal exhaustion." The elf folded his hands behind his head and looked up at the stars. "Why do you not sleep?"
"And surely nothing troubles you out of sleep in such a paradise, prince of Mirkwood?"
Legolas laughed softly. "Now you're turning our own elvish logic back on us. You cannot answer a question with a question unless you have the pointy ears of our kin, Estel."
Aragorn seemed to start, looking back out into the darkness. "You have not called me that in a very long time, Legolas."
"No fault of mine. It's only that you left Imladris so many years ago, still fair and young, and you did not come back for such a long time. You are no longer a forest child."
A sort of smile turned Aragorn's mouth as he stared off into the darkness. "Neither are you, nin mellon. You have become quite the assassin."
"Yes, well. When you have years of nothing to do but traverse the woods and fields, weaponry is a rather easy pastime to pick up. I had never hoped to use such a destructive skill unless it was in the defense of my people." Legolas sat down in the leaves, lying back again. Unbidden, Aragorn came and sat by him. They both spent a few moments gazing into the canopy of leaves, golden and set bright by moonlight, until one of them was ready to speak again.
"Legolas, you should sleep. We fought hard."
There was a soft huff of laughter in the leaves beside him as the elf stretched his hands over his head in the grass. "Aragorn, when you left Rivendell, you still appeared younger than me. And now that you are older and worn by mortal care, you have this irritating tendency to treat me as a child. And you of all people should know that to judge an immortal's age by appearance is folly. I am only a few centuries older than you." He smiled softly, as Aragorn looked appropriately taken aback. "You knew this, but I think you tend to forget."
Aragorn smiled back after a moment, then laid down in the leaves beside him. "So I do. My apologies, friend."
"None are needed. Though I wish that none of this had ever come to us. I wish you had never gone away to the world of men."
There was silence from Aragorn. Legolas looked over at him, blonde hair glimmering in moonlight, eyes dark and serious. "I am sorry now. That was uncalled for."
"No, sometimes I wish the same thing, Legolas. I wish I could have just lived in Rivendell and here, journeying to the court of Mirkwood, in a company of unchanging faces. But I could not."
"I could not believe it when I came to visit Rivendell, and Elrond said you had gone away from us. You were only eighteen, still young. Too young to journey alone, even with the friendship of the wizard to guide you. For every year since you came to Rivendell, we celebrated your birthday, do you remember? Because you were mortal..." Legolas sighed softly. "Our birthdays mean nothing to us....they are like drops of water into an ocean of time...but we knew yours were special, important...because you were mortal, and each year was precious and short to us. And I remember I was visiting Elrond when you came to Rivendell, and I had never seen a human child."
"You wouldn't leave me alone. Couldn't stop looking at my face, touching my hair and skin, comparing them to those of the elves. Fairly overwhelmed me, nin mellon."
"I am sorry. It was unwarranted, but I had never seen anything like you before."
"You do not have to apologize as if it were only yesterday."
"In the long years of my life, Estel, that is what it seems. Can my senses see what those long years have changed in you?" he asked, softly, for permission.
Aragorn nodded silently.
Legolas sat up and leaned over him. He reached out towards Aragorn's face.
Aragorn leaned out of reach.
Legolas paused in midgesture, still and statuesque. "You said I could touch you."
Aragorn nodded again. "Sorry, nin mellon. Habit. I have been long away from the company of elves, and men are not so inclined to the touch and senses."
Legolas simply nodded and slipped his hands under Aragorn's damp hair, freshly bathed in Lorien streams, feeling the Dunadan's face, light fingers running softly over the new lines of worry there. Aragorn stilled, enduring this gentle inspection with indulgence. It reminded him achingly of the innocence of Arwen. The elf traced soft fingertips along Aragorn's mouth, trailed them down his jaw. The king of men's eyes widened, and he looked quietly dazed.
"You are not our Estel anymore, are you?" Legolas said sadly, brushing hair back from Aragorn's face with a scowl on his fair face. "Not our forest child, to run with Arwen and hunt with me, to speak long and seriously with Haldir, to jest with Elladan and Elrohir. But he is still in there somewhere, our forest child. I can see it."
"I have not known Estel for such a long time, Legolas. Ranger, Strider, Aragorn...but not Estel."
Legolas scowled again. "And what of Elessar, Elfstone, and Estel? Did you leave them behind when you went to join your race?"
"I had no choice, my friend. Not so many men are as tolerant as they should be. And tales of elves still frighten the most mundane of men. A mortal associated with them is not always to be trusted."
Legolas laid back again, sighing. "I heard you speaking with Boromir. Of the cities of men. He is very proud of his people."
"And you are very proud of yours."
"This is true. But I know you long to see those cities again. To see them restored."
"This is also true."
"You also long for the peace of Imladris and Mirkwood and Lorien, though. You cannot have both." Legolas looked into Aragorn's face, his own still and unreadable. "You cannot be an elf and a mortal, Estel. You cannot be both." He leaned over again, staring down intensely into Aragorn's face. "You spoke of the clear ringing of silver trumpets, but I can see in your heart that you long to hear the sound of our singing in the trees, like so many bells welcoming you home." The elf leaned over and kissed Aragorn's throat, feeling him shiver. "You want to hear sing-song elvish whispers in the dark, not the harsh tones of men." He unbuttoned the front of Aragorn's shirt and laid his head against the man's broad chest, a grin breaking out on his face as he listened to the Dunadan's heartbeat.
"Your heart...it beats so differently than ours. I had forgotten."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It was not habit that kept me out of his innocent reach. It was fear. It was fear of the desire I felt for elven hands and elvish gaze. For the soft lilting eternity of their voices. I had to steel myself against his gentle touch.
I could never be first in Legolas's heart, nor could he ever be first in mine. My first love would be forever to Arwen, and Legolas's love forever belonged to the forest. If the forests of Mirkwood and Rivendell and Lorien fell to Sauron, he would mourn their loss when I was just dust in a grave. There is loneliness in that thought. The same loneliness I had felt growing up at Imladris, where I could watch my elven bretheren debate over things that had happened centuries before, and in my loneliness I knew that they would be arguing over the same frivolous things long after I had passed into the halls of my fathers. I suppose I was always a little bitter in the beautiful forests of the Eldar, but mostly just aware that, though I had grown up in these same glens and thickets, I was as much an outsider as the dwarf, or the hobbits, or Boromir, no matter how long I spent here. I was mortal, so I could not be elf-kin, but I was brought up among the Eldar, so I could not ever be entirely human.
And now, to be among them after so many long years of the company of men, I find that all my old protection against their magic is gone. I can no longer walk among them freely and untouched by their beauty. I have become, like a normal mortal, elf-struck. And my eyes cannot leave the face of Legolas, leaning over me in moonlight. My brother for so many years has become so unspeakably radiant in my eyes, I think my heart may break from it. The feel of him pressing ear against my chest causes me to close my eyes against his beauty, and brings my breath shuddering from between half- parted lips.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Stop, Legolas."
I pulled back from him, as he wished. Tried to hide the hurt in my eyes. It wasn't serious, what I had done. It was no more than the kind of contact that is a comfort among my people. Our people. And even growing up, Estel had always enjoyed those simple, soft, comforting touches. They made him feel less like a stranger, I knew. They made him feel like one of us.
"You're afraid of me?" I whispered. I had never thought Estel afraid of anything, creature of light or dark. But there was fear in his voice.
He swallowed. "Yes."
I watched the fear slide across his face and fill his eyes. I didn't know what warranted it. I had never been anything but gentle. "Why are you afraid?"
"Because I do not trust myself."
I bent down over him again, lips barely brushing his, not quite a kiss. "And you trust me? I, Legolas Greenleaf, prince of Mirkwood, kin of Arwen Evenstar, we both who have seen the mountains fall and the rivers flow for all the ages of the world?" My breath was a warm rush against his mouth.
Aragorn pushed me back with his hand, and I backed away, still looking down into his dark eyes. "You are old, Legolas, but my experience is worth as much. If either of us is the child, it is you, not I." His words were fierce, grim, the words of Strider, not of Estel.
Elvish arrogance rose in me, and I turned my face away. "I knew the woods and field when your forefathers were still a gleam in the eyes of their forefathers, Aragorn son of Arathorn. Do not take the Eldar lightly, for we are proud and quick to anger."
He laughed softly behind me, his gentle laugh roughened by pipeweed, and I couldn't feign wrath for more than a few moments. Not with our Elessar. He was cherished to us.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I heard his words, and I did not mean to wound his pride. But then I heard his returning laughter, soft as heather in starlight, and I knew it had all been an act. He was not angry with me.
"You are a fool, Estel." The voice of Legolas was stern, but not harsh. "And Arwen is a fool for loving you."
"Do not speak unkindly of the Evenstar, my friend." My reply was light, but there was a touch of seriousness to it. I would not have Arwen insulted, not even in play.
"You are a warrior, and Arwen has surrendered you to the war. The war for your people and your race, it is your heart of hearts. It is your calling and your destiny. But she has vowed to give up her immortality for you, and then sends you off into deadly peril. It is folly. I wish she had never met the mortal of Imladris, and I wish sometimes I had never met you. I do believe we may both die of grief, if anything happened to you." His voice was sorrowful, but there was still a sort of helpless fury in it.
"You are angry with me now, nin mellon?" I teased him, now.
Legolas sighed, still turned from me. "No. I am only worried for you. You are a reckless fool of a mortal, and always have been, even growing up in the house of Elrond, Elladan and Elrohir. But I cannot blame you for that. It would be like yelling at the wind for blowing. It is just what you are." He laid back in the linden leaves again, breathing in their scent.
"But if you are going to mortal peril, I am glad to be at your side. To protect our Elessar." His voice was teasing me back.
"Yes, gods forbid anyone ever try to protect an elf." On an impulse I did not understand, I pulled him to me, and he did not struggle. His head leaned against my shoulder, cheek resting against my jerkin, pulled to the side where he had wanted to touch my skin.
Legolas laughed, and it was a very elvish laugh. Frivolous, joyous, but with a touch of mocking disdain that was so gentle it was almost not there. That free, ringing laughter made me shudder. Nothing but the merriment of the prince of Mirkwood to make it extraordinary, but that had always been unique enough for me. But something in his voice as his laughter trailed off made me look over at him. An undertone of barely checked anger. "What's wrong?"
"You never told me you were leaving. You never sent word. I would have come to Rivendell to see you off. You never journeyed to Mirkwood in all your travels. Not until the end, with that creature Gollum."
He sat up on his elbows, still leaning slightly at my side, but the familiar comfort of the moment had been spoiled. He was sincerely upset, now.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I pulled away from him. Pulled away from the intoxicating scent of flowing mortal life-blood and smoke and mortal skin. The smell of Estel, the way he had always smelled ever since he was a child, a fragrance like ground-in dirt and dry pine needles blended with the smell of forest shade. Pulled away from the thick, reassuring sound of his human heartbeat.
"I didn't tell anyone, Legolas. Not Elladan or Elrohir. Not Elrond. I did not tell my own father, Legolas. And you know I consider him so."
"Over thirty years, Aragorn. Without knowing whether you were dead or alive. Over thirty years without a word from the Wilds."
"I did not tell Arwen either, Legolas. You were not the only one in the dark."
There was a period of silence. It wasn't comfortable at all, now. None of the other elves would have questioned him leaving without a word. Not his brothers, not the Lord Elrond. Not even Arwen would have tried to stop him. No one but me. Estel always said that I was the only one among my kind that allowed emotions of any kind to drive him, and that it was dangerous. Maybe he was right. I didn't care. It didn't make me any less hurt or angry at him.
"Legolas, I did not come to you before I left because I know you far too well. I knew you would ride out with me, with or without my consent, and if I did not give you my allowance to come along, you would follow me in the shadows like an abandoned hound. I was not willing to drag you from the protection of the forests, nin mellon. Not yet."
I snorted my indignation in a very un-elvish manner. "I am a prince of Mirkwood, son of Thranduil, and I do not need your leave to come and go as I please in my own kingdom. If I had been truly worried for you, if I didn't think you could protect yourself in the Wilds, I could have hunted you down. And I don't need you to protect me, Aragorn son of Arathorn. I have protected myself for hundreds of years. I may be the youngest son of Thranduil, Ranger, but I do not need your guardianship. If mortal memory has not decieved you, you will remember that I have protected you for years as well as myself."
"We protect each other. It is the meaning of a fellowship."
I smiled, just a little. I couldn't help it. If Aragorn had learned anything from growing up among the Eldar, it was a silver tongue.
"How did you ever survive without my counsel, Estel? Ai, our hopeful fool."
"Ah, so now we are back on the term of Hope. I was afraid that I would forever be Aragorn to you. You have been so distant to me since the council."
"I was troubled. It is a human name. You will be forever Estel to us."
I softly sang a song that the elves had often sung of Aragorn, back when he was known only as Estel of Halfelven and nothing else:
// Clouded dream on an earthly night hangs upon the crescent moon Voices sung in an ageless light singing of the coming dawn.
Birds at flight, a calling there where the soul moves the stars there that my heart is longing for hollowed for the love of you.
The Eldar danced to Imladris to see dear Arwen's mortal love as fair to us as a moonlit lily and gentle as the mourning dove.
He sang across the elven woods voice clear as a silver bell Elessar, our only short-lived kin the pride of Elrond's Rivendell. //
"I cannot believe you remember that foolish song," Aragorn said, laughing.
"No elf-song is foolish, Estel. And I, like my kind, remember everything." I sighed again, the softest sound, but not sad. There was silence again, no sound but the wind in the trees.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"I remember that only two years before I left...I could not be dragged from Rivendell."
Legolas laughed beside me. "Oh yes, I do remember too. When you were sixteen...Elrond wanted to send you off to Eriador, to become the apprentice of a mortal swordsman."
I was silent a moment, remembering that day.
*** "You are a man of your race now, Estel. I want you to go from here, far from the realm of the Eldar. I want you to go into the world of men. You'll take our wealth with you, and all the learnings of our people. You'll take our grace and all our beautiful tongues. You'll take our song. You'll take our skills of the woods, our skills with the blade and bow. You'll take these things and you'll go to find the other half of your being- "
"Ada, I want nothing but Imladris!"
"-and when you think back on us, your kin, who you were raised among, once you have become familiar in the domain of men, our world will seem very strange and alien to you. This intimate place may become a burden to you, a secret to be hidden away from the knowledge of others, so that you may be accepted by your people, and not scorned."
"I won't go, father. You can't make me!"
"Remember, my dear Estel, that we cherished you. That we healed your heart, and made you whole again, you learned to love and sing once more, after your mother's tragedy. Remember that we cared for you like one of our own. And that you were always a son to me."
"And what if I won't go, Ada? What if I will not leave this place of free will? Will you banish me from the halls of Elrond like an outlaw? Will you bind me and carry me like a prisoner to Eriador? Will you lock all the doors of your halls against me, and forbid all the Eldar to speak of me? Will you forbid Arwen and Elladan and Elrohir and Haldir and Legolas to converse with me? You had better forbid it all, or I'll bang at the doors of the Great Hall until I'm bloodied, and scream for solace until I'm mute! You cannot take me from this place. I will die of grief."
"Mortals do not die of grief, Estel. Do not cry." ***
"But he didn't make you leave, Aragorn. In the end...he relented," Legolas said, pulling me out of my reverie.
"Only because I wept and ranted."
"And then two years later, you ran away without a word to anyone. And I never understood why," he replied softly.
I laid back in the grass and leaves, cold suddenly, and hurt, and weary. I wanted to run and hide in his arms like a child, like I had done so many years ago, when my brothers taunted me. Legolas, our prince of Mirkwood, friend to the court of Elrond. Legolas, who was always loyal, and rarely critical.
"I had to find out who I really was, Legolas. Nothing more."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I smiled at him, to show him that I was not angry anymore. Elvish fury is quick and fierce, but it is fleeting; it soon gives way to good will or sorrow. Looking at him now, lying there, worn by worries and cares, face weathered by sorrow, hands cracked and callused by battle, I feel in my heart ever more sharply than before the contrast in our races. I wish again, helplessly, that he had been born one of the Eldar. "And so you have, Aragorn, son of Arathorn, heir to Isildur, Estel of the Halfelven, Elessar of the Eldar, the Elfstone of Imladris, and Strider, Longshanks, Ranger of Gondor. Your titles are overwhelming."
I laid down next to him, pressing against him, moving close by, close enough to feel his warmth, to hear the comforting thump of his heartbeat again, the sound of his breathing like air in a bellows. He gives off a heat that none among the Eldar can. It's not just physical. All mortals burn with that same blaze of fire. It's in their souls. Their lives are short because their spirits burn like bonfires.
But I don't want to think about that. I don't want to ever think about that fire banking down to smoldering embers and finally...going out.
I am content to lay here in the leaves of Lorien and be with him, while I can.
I cannot give up my immortality for him. I am not like Arwen; as much as I care for him, I could not bind myself to him. I wish to know the comings and goings of the forests, for all the ages of the world. But I can give him my time, right now. I can give him all the years of his life that we will share. I can give him my alliance, my allegiance, my bow, and the bows of Mirkwood.
"You will be their king, Estel, but you will forever be our child. You will always be the love of the Evenstar. Strive to see the great city of men, Minas Tirith, once more, nin mellon, but you will always long for Lorien."
He has not heard me. He has fallen asleep, breathing soft and steady by my side.
Smiling, I follow him.
I will always follow him.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
FIN - Review, people, and I'll write more LotR stuff! PS - I really, really hate FFNet format.
Disclaimer: Don't own 'em, wish I did, I'd be a freakin' millionaire.
Setting: Arrival in Lothlorien, "Fellowship"
Warnings: A little bit of A/L, but not graphic in the least, and could be interpreted a lot of different ways. Don't like it, don't read.
Translation: nin mellon - my friend, estel - hope, ada - father (I think; didn't have a reference to check)
// - denotes song *** - denotes flashback
Longing for Lorien ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The night that the Fellowship reached the comforting woods of Lothlorien, Legolas thought his heart would break with relief, even if he had to listen to the laments of Gandalf throughout the night. The hobbits were weary, and even the dwarf, once he had seen that there was nothing malevolent in Galadriel, was more than willing to stop and rest. But his human companions were not so consoled by the thought of rest in the Lorien. Boromir, for his part, was uneasy and frightened for reasons known only to himself and Legolas, and Aragorn seemed exhausted beyond reckoning.
Legolas lay down in the middle of their sleeping ground, burying himself to the ears in soft, fragrant golden leaves. He looked up at the stars beyond the canopy of the forest, watching them wheel slowly and surely through the dark sky as he hummed and whispered along with the songs honoring and grieving over the fall of Gandalf.
On the far edge of their sleeping ground, Aragorn stood beyond the glow of the trees and listened as voices of blame berated his mind.
~You are responsible for his death. You should have been the one to stay behind and ward back the beast. To send an old man!-no. It should have been me, to fall into darkness. I am more expendable than the wizard. And now it's too late. I'm left to lead this company, who puts all their trust in me...and what should happen if I should fail? The hobbits are as children..and if I cannot lead so small a company, who am I to rule a race?~
Aragorn closed his eyes and cupped his aching head in one cold, callused hand, and wondered how long it would be until he snapped like an overwound bowstring.
He stilled and listened to the singing echoing through the trees.
~Oh Mithrandir...~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Legolas noticed Aragorn, even though he knew Aragorn did not want to be noticed. Even though his eyes were closed in relaxation, his lungs full of the sweet comforting breath of trees as he listened to the slow steady breathing of the company around him, he knew exactly when Aragorn left their sleeping ground and went deeper into the forest alone.
He sat up silently. In the shimmering light of Lothlorien, the dark night glade seemed almost as bright as day. He could not sleep when Aragorn suffered so; he knew that much, anyway.
He followed Aragorn's trail in the darkness, walking as light as heather over the fallen leaves, making no noise. Even though Aragorn had been raised among elves, his sheer weight and size made it impossible for him to come through the woods without sound for Legolas to be able to follow him by.
He soon caught up with Aragorn. The Dunadan had found a clearing in the trees and stood in it, singing a song that Frodo had sung hours before, only singing it in Elvish, sharing it with the immortals in the trees around them:
// When evening in the Shire was grey his footsteps on the Hill were heard; before the dawn he went away on journey long without a word.
From Wilderland to Western shore, from northern waste to southern hill through dragon-lair and hidden door and darkling woods he walked at will. //
Legolas sung the next verse, his voice a soft, sweet bell in the woods:
// With Dwarf and Hobbit, Elves and Men, with mortal and immortal folk with bird on bough and beast in den, in their own secret tongues he spoke. //
Aragorn jumped, which was exactly the type of reaction that Legolas had been going for. The elf came up to stand behind him, smiling with gentle mirth when Aragorn turned to him in surprise. "Caught off your guard again, Ranger? Arwen told me she was able to place a blade to your neck without you even hearing her. I do believe your skills are dulling with mortal exhaustion." The elf folded his hands behind his head and looked up at the stars. "Why do you not sleep?"
"And surely nothing troubles you out of sleep in such a paradise, prince of Mirkwood?"
Legolas laughed softly. "Now you're turning our own elvish logic back on us. You cannot answer a question with a question unless you have the pointy ears of our kin, Estel."
Aragorn seemed to start, looking back out into the darkness. "You have not called me that in a very long time, Legolas."
"No fault of mine. It's only that you left Imladris so many years ago, still fair and young, and you did not come back for such a long time. You are no longer a forest child."
A sort of smile turned Aragorn's mouth as he stared off into the darkness. "Neither are you, nin mellon. You have become quite the assassin."
"Yes, well. When you have years of nothing to do but traverse the woods and fields, weaponry is a rather easy pastime to pick up. I had never hoped to use such a destructive skill unless it was in the defense of my people." Legolas sat down in the leaves, lying back again. Unbidden, Aragorn came and sat by him. They both spent a few moments gazing into the canopy of leaves, golden and set bright by moonlight, until one of them was ready to speak again.
"Legolas, you should sleep. We fought hard."
There was a soft huff of laughter in the leaves beside him as the elf stretched his hands over his head in the grass. "Aragorn, when you left Rivendell, you still appeared younger than me. And now that you are older and worn by mortal care, you have this irritating tendency to treat me as a child. And you of all people should know that to judge an immortal's age by appearance is folly. I am only a few centuries older than you." He smiled softly, as Aragorn looked appropriately taken aback. "You knew this, but I think you tend to forget."
Aragorn smiled back after a moment, then laid down in the leaves beside him. "So I do. My apologies, friend."
"None are needed. Though I wish that none of this had ever come to us. I wish you had never gone away to the world of men."
There was silence from Aragorn. Legolas looked over at him, blonde hair glimmering in moonlight, eyes dark and serious. "I am sorry now. That was uncalled for."
"No, sometimes I wish the same thing, Legolas. I wish I could have just lived in Rivendell and here, journeying to the court of Mirkwood, in a company of unchanging faces. But I could not."
"I could not believe it when I came to visit Rivendell, and Elrond said you had gone away from us. You were only eighteen, still young. Too young to journey alone, even with the friendship of the wizard to guide you. For every year since you came to Rivendell, we celebrated your birthday, do you remember? Because you were mortal..." Legolas sighed softly. "Our birthdays mean nothing to us....they are like drops of water into an ocean of time...but we knew yours were special, important...because you were mortal, and each year was precious and short to us. And I remember I was visiting Elrond when you came to Rivendell, and I had never seen a human child."
"You wouldn't leave me alone. Couldn't stop looking at my face, touching my hair and skin, comparing them to those of the elves. Fairly overwhelmed me, nin mellon."
"I am sorry. It was unwarranted, but I had never seen anything like you before."
"You do not have to apologize as if it were only yesterday."
"In the long years of my life, Estel, that is what it seems. Can my senses see what those long years have changed in you?" he asked, softly, for permission.
Aragorn nodded silently.
Legolas sat up and leaned over him. He reached out towards Aragorn's face.
Aragorn leaned out of reach.
Legolas paused in midgesture, still and statuesque. "You said I could touch you."
Aragorn nodded again. "Sorry, nin mellon. Habit. I have been long away from the company of elves, and men are not so inclined to the touch and senses."
Legolas simply nodded and slipped his hands under Aragorn's damp hair, freshly bathed in Lorien streams, feeling the Dunadan's face, light fingers running softly over the new lines of worry there. Aragorn stilled, enduring this gentle inspection with indulgence. It reminded him achingly of the innocence of Arwen. The elf traced soft fingertips along Aragorn's mouth, trailed them down his jaw. The king of men's eyes widened, and he looked quietly dazed.
"You are not our Estel anymore, are you?" Legolas said sadly, brushing hair back from Aragorn's face with a scowl on his fair face. "Not our forest child, to run with Arwen and hunt with me, to speak long and seriously with Haldir, to jest with Elladan and Elrohir. But he is still in there somewhere, our forest child. I can see it."
"I have not known Estel for such a long time, Legolas. Ranger, Strider, Aragorn...but not Estel."
Legolas scowled again. "And what of Elessar, Elfstone, and Estel? Did you leave them behind when you went to join your race?"
"I had no choice, my friend. Not so many men are as tolerant as they should be. And tales of elves still frighten the most mundane of men. A mortal associated with them is not always to be trusted."
Legolas laid back again, sighing. "I heard you speaking with Boromir. Of the cities of men. He is very proud of his people."
"And you are very proud of yours."
"This is true. But I know you long to see those cities again. To see them restored."
"This is also true."
"You also long for the peace of Imladris and Mirkwood and Lorien, though. You cannot have both." Legolas looked into Aragorn's face, his own still and unreadable. "You cannot be an elf and a mortal, Estel. You cannot be both." He leaned over again, staring down intensely into Aragorn's face. "You spoke of the clear ringing of silver trumpets, but I can see in your heart that you long to hear the sound of our singing in the trees, like so many bells welcoming you home." The elf leaned over and kissed Aragorn's throat, feeling him shiver. "You want to hear sing-song elvish whispers in the dark, not the harsh tones of men." He unbuttoned the front of Aragorn's shirt and laid his head against the man's broad chest, a grin breaking out on his face as he listened to the Dunadan's heartbeat.
"Your heart...it beats so differently than ours. I had forgotten."
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It was not habit that kept me out of his innocent reach. It was fear. It was fear of the desire I felt for elven hands and elvish gaze. For the soft lilting eternity of their voices. I had to steel myself against his gentle touch.
I could never be first in Legolas's heart, nor could he ever be first in mine. My first love would be forever to Arwen, and Legolas's love forever belonged to the forest. If the forests of Mirkwood and Rivendell and Lorien fell to Sauron, he would mourn their loss when I was just dust in a grave. There is loneliness in that thought. The same loneliness I had felt growing up at Imladris, where I could watch my elven bretheren debate over things that had happened centuries before, and in my loneliness I knew that they would be arguing over the same frivolous things long after I had passed into the halls of my fathers. I suppose I was always a little bitter in the beautiful forests of the Eldar, but mostly just aware that, though I had grown up in these same glens and thickets, I was as much an outsider as the dwarf, or the hobbits, or Boromir, no matter how long I spent here. I was mortal, so I could not be elf-kin, but I was brought up among the Eldar, so I could not ever be entirely human.
And now, to be among them after so many long years of the company of men, I find that all my old protection against their magic is gone. I can no longer walk among them freely and untouched by their beauty. I have become, like a normal mortal, elf-struck. And my eyes cannot leave the face of Legolas, leaning over me in moonlight. My brother for so many years has become so unspeakably radiant in my eyes, I think my heart may break from it. The feel of him pressing ear against my chest causes me to close my eyes against his beauty, and brings my breath shuddering from between half- parted lips.
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"Stop, Legolas."
I pulled back from him, as he wished. Tried to hide the hurt in my eyes. It wasn't serious, what I had done. It was no more than the kind of contact that is a comfort among my people. Our people. And even growing up, Estel had always enjoyed those simple, soft, comforting touches. They made him feel less like a stranger, I knew. They made him feel like one of us.
"You're afraid of me?" I whispered. I had never thought Estel afraid of anything, creature of light or dark. But there was fear in his voice.
He swallowed. "Yes."
I watched the fear slide across his face and fill his eyes. I didn't know what warranted it. I had never been anything but gentle. "Why are you afraid?"
"Because I do not trust myself."
I bent down over him again, lips barely brushing his, not quite a kiss. "And you trust me? I, Legolas Greenleaf, prince of Mirkwood, kin of Arwen Evenstar, we both who have seen the mountains fall and the rivers flow for all the ages of the world?" My breath was a warm rush against his mouth.
Aragorn pushed me back with his hand, and I backed away, still looking down into his dark eyes. "You are old, Legolas, but my experience is worth as much. If either of us is the child, it is you, not I." His words were fierce, grim, the words of Strider, not of Estel.
Elvish arrogance rose in me, and I turned my face away. "I knew the woods and field when your forefathers were still a gleam in the eyes of their forefathers, Aragorn son of Arathorn. Do not take the Eldar lightly, for we are proud and quick to anger."
He laughed softly behind me, his gentle laugh roughened by pipeweed, and I couldn't feign wrath for more than a few moments. Not with our Elessar. He was cherished to us.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I heard his words, and I did not mean to wound his pride. But then I heard his returning laughter, soft as heather in starlight, and I knew it had all been an act. He was not angry with me.
"You are a fool, Estel." The voice of Legolas was stern, but not harsh. "And Arwen is a fool for loving you."
"Do not speak unkindly of the Evenstar, my friend." My reply was light, but there was a touch of seriousness to it. I would not have Arwen insulted, not even in play.
"You are a warrior, and Arwen has surrendered you to the war. The war for your people and your race, it is your heart of hearts. It is your calling and your destiny. But she has vowed to give up her immortality for you, and then sends you off into deadly peril. It is folly. I wish she had never met the mortal of Imladris, and I wish sometimes I had never met you. I do believe we may both die of grief, if anything happened to you." His voice was sorrowful, but there was still a sort of helpless fury in it.
"You are angry with me now, nin mellon?" I teased him, now.
Legolas sighed, still turned from me. "No. I am only worried for you. You are a reckless fool of a mortal, and always have been, even growing up in the house of Elrond, Elladan and Elrohir. But I cannot blame you for that. It would be like yelling at the wind for blowing. It is just what you are." He laid back in the linden leaves again, breathing in their scent.
"But if you are going to mortal peril, I am glad to be at your side. To protect our Elessar." His voice was teasing me back.
"Yes, gods forbid anyone ever try to protect an elf." On an impulse I did not understand, I pulled him to me, and he did not struggle. His head leaned against my shoulder, cheek resting against my jerkin, pulled to the side where he had wanted to touch my skin.
Legolas laughed, and it was a very elvish laugh. Frivolous, joyous, but with a touch of mocking disdain that was so gentle it was almost not there. That free, ringing laughter made me shudder. Nothing but the merriment of the prince of Mirkwood to make it extraordinary, but that had always been unique enough for me. But something in his voice as his laughter trailed off made me look over at him. An undertone of barely checked anger. "What's wrong?"
"You never told me you were leaving. You never sent word. I would have come to Rivendell to see you off. You never journeyed to Mirkwood in all your travels. Not until the end, with that creature Gollum."
He sat up on his elbows, still leaning slightly at my side, but the familiar comfort of the moment had been spoiled. He was sincerely upset, now.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I pulled away from him. Pulled away from the intoxicating scent of flowing mortal life-blood and smoke and mortal skin. The smell of Estel, the way he had always smelled ever since he was a child, a fragrance like ground-in dirt and dry pine needles blended with the smell of forest shade. Pulled away from the thick, reassuring sound of his human heartbeat.
"I didn't tell anyone, Legolas. Not Elladan or Elrohir. Not Elrond. I did not tell my own father, Legolas. And you know I consider him so."
"Over thirty years, Aragorn. Without knowing whether you were dead or alive. Over thirty years without a word from the Wilds."
"I did not tell Arwen either, Legolas. You were not the only one in the dark."
There was a period of silence. It wasn't comfortable at all, now. None of the other elves would have questioned him leaving without a word. Not his brothers, not the Lord Elrond. Not even Arwen would have tried to stop him. No one but me. Estel always said that I was the only one among my kind that allowed emotions of any kind to drive him, and that it was dangerous. Maybe he was right. I didn't care. It didn't make me any less hurt or angry at him.
"Legolas, I did not come to you before I left because I know you far too well. I knew you would ride out with me, with or without my consent, and if I did not give you my allowance to come along, you would follow me in the shadows like an abandoned hound. I was not willing to drag you from the protection of the forests, nin mellon. Not yet."
I snorted my indignation in a very un-elvish manner. "I am a prince of Mirkwood, son of Thranduil, and I do not need your leave to come and go as I please in my own kingdom. If I had been truly worried for you, if I didn't think you could protect yourself in the Wilds, I could have hunted you down. And I don't need you to protect me, Aragorn son of Arathorn. I have protected myself for hundreds of years. I may be the youngest son of Thranduil, Ranger, but I do not need your guardianship. If mortal memory has not decieved you, you will remember that I have protected you for years as well as myself."
"We protect each other. It is the meaning of a fellowship."
I smiled, just a little. I couldn't help it. If Aragorn had learned anything from growing up among the Eldar, it was a silver tongue.
"How did you ever survive without my counsel, Estel? Ai, our hopeful fool."
"Ah, so now we are back on the term of Hope. I was afraid that I would forever be Aragorn to you. You have been so distant to me since the council."
"I was troubled. It is a human name. You will be forever Estel to us."
I softly sang a song that the elves had often sung of Aragorn, back when he was known only as Estel of Halfelven and nothing else:
// Clouded dream on an earthly night hangs upon the crescent moon Voices sung in an ageless light singing of the coming dawn.
Birds at flight, a calling there where the soul moves the stars there that my heart is longing for hollowed for the love of you.
The Eldar danced to Imladris to see dear Arwen's mortal love as fair to us as a moonlit lily and gentle as the mourning dove.
He sang across the elven woods voice clear as a silver bell Elessar, our only short-lived kin the pride of Elrond's Rivendell. //
"I cannot believe you remember that foolish song," Aragorn said, laughing.
"No elf-song is foolish, Estel. And I, like my kind, remember everything." I sighed again, the softest sound, but not sad. There was silence again, no sound but the wind in the trees.
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"I remember that only two years before I left...I could not be dragged from Rivendell."
Legolas laughed beside me. "Oh yes, I do remember too. When you were sixteen...Elrond wanted to send you off to Eriador, to become the apprentice of a mortal swordsman."
I was silent a moment, remembering that day.
*** "You are a man of your race now, Estel. I want you to go from here, far from the realm of the Eldar. I want you to go into the world of men. You'll take our wealth with you, and all the learnings of our people. You'll take our grace and all our beautiful tongues. You'll take our song. You'll take our skills of the woods, our skills with the blade and bow. You'll take these things and you'll go to find the other half of your being- "
"Ada, I want nothing but Imladris!"
"-and when you think back on us, your kin, who you were raised among, once you have become familiar in the domain of men, our world will seem very strange and alien to you. This intimate place may become a burden to you, a secret to be hidden away from the knowledge of others, so that you may be accepted by your people, and not scorned."
"I won't go, father. You can't make me!"
"Remember, my dear Estel, that we cherished you. That we healed your heart, and made you whole again, you learned to love and sing once more, after your mother's tragedy. Remember that we cared for you like one of our own. And that you were always a son to me."
"And what if I won't go, Ada? What if I will not leave this place of free will? Will you banish me from the halls of Elrond like an outlaw? Will you bind me and carry me like a prisoner to Eriador? Will you lock all the doors of your halls against me, and forbid all the Eldar to speak of me? Will you forbid Arwen and Elladan and Elrohir and Haldir and Legolas to converse with me? You had better forbid it all, or I'll bang at the doors of the Great Hall until I'm bloodied, and scream for solace until I'm mute! You cannot take me from this place. I will die of grief."
"Mortals do not die of grief, Estel. Do not cry." ***
"But he didn't make you leave, Aragorn. In the end...he relented," Legolas said, pulling me out of my reverie.
"Only because I wept and ranted."
"And then two years later, you ran away without a word to anyone. And I never understood why," he replied softly.
I laid back in the grass and leaves, cold suddenly, and hurt, and weary. I wanted to run and hide in his arms like a child, like I had done so many years ago, when my brothers taunted me. Legolas, our prince of Mirkwood, friend to the court of Elrond. Legolas, who was always loyal, and rarely critical.
"I had to find out who I really was, Legolas. Nothing more."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I smiled at him, to show him that I was not angry anymore. Elvish fury is quick and fierce, but it is fleeting; it soon gives way to good will or sorrow. Looking at him now, lying there, worn by worries and cares, face weathered by sorrow, hands cracked and callused by battle, I feel in my heart ever more sharply than before the contrast in our races. I wish again, helplessly, that he had been born one of the Eldar. "And so you have, Aragorn, son of Arathorn, heir to Isildur, Estel of the Halfelven, Elessar of the Eldar, the Elfstone of Imladris, and Strider, Longshanks, Ranger of Gondor. Your titles are overwhelming."
I laid down next to him, pressing against him, moving close by, close enough to feel his warmth, to hear the comforting thump of his heartbeat again, the sound of his breathing like air in a bellows. He gives off a heat that none among the Eldar can. It's not just physical. All mortals burn with that same blaze of fire. It's in their souls. Their lives are short because their spirits burn like bonfires.
But I don't want to think about that. I don't want to ever think about that fire banking down to smoldering embers and finally...going out.
I am content to lay here in the leaves of Lorien and be with him, while I can.
I cannot give up my immortality for him. I am not like Arwen; as much as I care for him, I could not bind myself to him. I wish to know the comings and goings of the forests, for all the ages of the world. But I can give him my time, right now. I can give him all the years of his life that we will share. I can give him my alliance, my allegiance, my bow, and the bows of Mirkwood.
"You will be their king, Estel, but you will forever be our child. You will always be the love of the Evenstar. Strive to see the great city of men, Minas Tirith, once more, nin mellon, but you will always long for Lorien."
He has not heard me. He has fallen asleep, breathing soft and steady by my side.
Smiling, I follow him.
I will always follow him.
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FIN - Review, people, and I'll write more LotR stuff! PS - I really, really hate FFNet format.