Summary: One cold night in Minas Tirith, the melancholy Prince of Mirkwood is in need of a friend's companionship.
Disclaimer: Everything from The Lord of the Rings, and other related works belongs to JRR Tolkien; anything else belongs to me. This story was written purely as entertainment, and no money is made from it, nor is any offense intended.
Author's Note: This story takes place shortly after the War of the Ring. I read FanFiction like the Mellon Chronicles, and then I looked at the awkward tension that was Aragorn and Legolas' friendship throughout the movies, and it made me sad. So, yeah, this is just a moment between two friends.
ALL OF YOUR FEARS
By: Pie
Why do you weep?
What are these tears upon your face?
Soon you will see all of your fears will pass away,
Safe in my arms you're only sleeping.
– Annie Lennox, Into The West
~*~*~*~*~
Aragorn turned the polished brass doorhandle. The door swung open with a silent grace, and Aragorn slipped quietly into the room, closing the portal behind him. Almost immediately the smell of the smoke of scented candles reached his senses, but a quick glance around the room assured Aragorn that they had been blown out some time ago. The room was swathed in darkness, save for the bright shafts of moonlight that streamed through the open windows and cast deep shadows across the room. At the windows, pale blue gossamer curtains billowed up as a passionate breeze toyed with the weightless fabric. Moonlight danced enticingly across the fine curtains, making them shimmer mysteriously. The expanse of the room was eerily silent and empty, save for the soft whistling of the wind.
A quick glance at the untouched bed confirmed that the Elf was not asleep.
He had expected this, anticipated it even. The newly restored peace of the recently won war had bought Gondor many nights of tranquil slumber. It was a well-deserved silence and many weary folk revelled in the quiet, save for one lonely voice that rose above the whistle of the wind. The haunting melodies lilted lightly upon the air, and their singer sang long into the nights. Earlier that evening, when the skies had turned dark and the stars graced the heavens with their presence, Aragorn had been directed to gaze upon the balcony high up the citadel, where a lone figure bathed in light perched upon the stone railing. Once more a melancholy tune had graced his ears, only this time he knew that voice.
Aragorn crossed the room quietly and paused upon the threshold between the bedroom and the balcony. Indeed, here was the one he had been seeking. The Elf sat gracefully upon the balustrade with his legs dangling over the edge of the balcony. He faced away from Aragorn, his golden locks cascading down over his fine shoulders and back. The king watched in fascination as the moonshine seemed to enhance the natural glow of the Eldar, for indeed Legolas glowed brightly, his spirit radiating warmth, devotion and love, but also something else … pain, perhaps.
Aragorn approached the railing slowly, letting the cool night air wash over him, caressing his face and refreshing his weary soul. He noted with some concern the Elf's lack of response to his proximity and presence. It was common knowledge that an Elf's heightened senses allowed them to detect life long before any other race, so it was unlikely, nay, impossible that Legolas would not have heard his approach. To see the listless Elf so utterly unresponsive was rare in itself; to see him ignore his best friend of many years was worrying. Reaching out, Aragorn played his hands upon the rough and ornate stone balustrade next to the Elf.
"I fear I cannot join you upon your perch," Aragorn ventured softly, "lest I fall clean from the balcony. Perhaps you would join me back here, on the terrace, instead of balancing precariously upon the railing?"
The Elf was silent for many long, tension-filled moments, and only when Aragorn opened his mouth to speak further did Legolas turn his head to face the king. As if looking at the prince in a new light, Aragorn observed that his friend did not look well, not at all. Legolas' cheeks were pale, emaciated in such a way that his high cheekbones jutted out awkwardly from his face. Sunken blue eyes shimmered with unshed tears, and the prince's lips were drawn in a tight line. He gazed at his friend, through his friend almost, and Aragorn's heart clenched at the utter misery in the immortal creature's normally-proud visage.
"This is my fault, is it not?" the king questioned quietly, not daring to raise his voice lest the seemingly fragile Elf shatter. And then to himself, Aragorn reprimanded, "Why did I not see this sooner?" Carefully and cautiously, Aragorn reached out and ran his rough fingers lightly across the Elf's smooth skin, tracing the curves of his high cheekbones and finely chiselled face. Legolas trembled beneath the man's touch, his bright blue eyes fixed unblinkingly upon the king's silver ones, and Aragorn felt grief grip his heart. Ai … what ails you, mellon nín?
"I do not understand," said Aragorn softly, slowly. "What is it that causes you such misery?"
Legolas turned away once more, gazing unseeingly out upon the clear night sky. Not even the stars could comfort his troubled soul, and he felt helpless before the battle of emotions that weathered and beat his weary heart. He knew now he should say something, of all people Aragorn would be the one who might best understand him. His hands gripped the railing either side of him, and Legolas bravely swallowed past the lump in his throat.
"Do you remember what good friends we were?" Legolas whispered at last. He waited with baited breath, ultimately hopeful and yet at the same time filled with dread.
Aragorn felt the beginnings of a frown pulling at his forehead, but he fought the instinctive urge to push the Elf into divulging his troubles. What do you mean, 'were'? Beneath his fingers he encountered tiny fissures and depressions, imperfections in the man-made stonework, and for a moment the king swore he imagined that the stars dimmed and darkened in the night sky.
"Legolas, what is this all about?"
"You do not remember, then?" The Elf's reply was curt, and his voice had taken on a raw edge. He gave a short, bitter laugh. "We used to be such good friends."
"We still are such good friends," Aragorn countered, "aren't we?"
Legolas closed his eyes and drew a deep breath. A tense, uncomfortable silence descended upon them. Aragorn drummed his fingers over the balcony, realising for the first time how the rough and unforgiving stone was terribly cold. A frigid breeze swept past the two friends, and Aragorn shivered despite the warm garments he wore. The Elf beside him was utterly quiet and still.
"Not like we used to be," whispered Legolas, opening his eyes once more. Aragorn exhaled purposefully, impatiently. His breath frosted upon the night air. Why were Elves so inclined to speak in riddles? If only Legolas would just reach the point of their conversation, Aragorn might be able to assist his ailing friend.
"Legolas …"
"We used to be such good friends. Do you remember the time we glued Elrohir's shoes to the floor? And the time that Glorfindel's most prized wine mysteriously disappeared? Or the time that we showed up at my father's halls, and he wouldn't let us set foot in the Palace for all the mud and grime we wore?"
Aragorn blinked, unsure of what had bought this on, or how to respond to the archer. However, his reply portrayed none of the hesitancy he felt. "Legolas, nothing has changed. I am still your friend."
But the Elf would not have it.
"You have changed, I have changed." Aragorn frowned at the prince's tirade. "You are older now, wiser and jaded. You are a king, and your people look to you for support. I … I am a willing captive, a prince who shies at the thought of returning to his home." From somewhere deep in his heart, the king felt his pride being struck and crushed, and angrily he lashed out at his friend, raising his voice and shattering the peaceful quiet of their night time surroundings.
"You are no prisoner, Legolas! You can leave any time you choose. I am sorry that you would think me so different, and our friendship so irreparable, but if truly nothing keeps you here then do not stay!"
Silence. Stifling, suffocating silence.
"The sea is calling, Aragorn." The prince's tone was clipped and deadened, so much so that an outsider would have been led to believe that his friend's angry outburst had not affected the Elf. But Aragorn knew better. "It beckons; it whispers … there is only beauty there. There is no pain, no war, and no death. It is a place of serene tranquility and indescribable beauty that will be as such forever."
Aragorn let out resigned sigh and brought both hands up to massage his temples. His reply was deflated, echoing the emptiness he felt inside. To lose his friend now, after all the hardships they had been through, after all the laughter and all the tears, was unimaginable. A world without Legolas was a devastating notion, and momentarily Aragorn felt angry tears sting his eyes. He had not envisaged his friend leaving so soon … he had not imagined that Legolas would ever leave. And yet he had known, from the first time that Legolas had laid eyes on the sea and heard the shrill cries of the gulls on the shore, that the sea-longing was stirring within the Wood-Elf's heart. I must be strong, if only for his sake.
"We both knew this day would come. You must go to it, Legolas, and let your heart be at peace."
"Nay, it would not be at peace. I would not be parted from you; I would grieve at the loss of our friendship more then anything. And yet, I grieve anyway, for I fear I am already losing it. You are slipping further from me each and every day."
Aragorn was affronted, both at the thought of drifting away from his dearest friend, and the notion that Legolas could actually think that was happening.
"That is not happening; I would not willingly topple from your grace! Tell me what I must do to redeem myself, and I shall do it. Anything, Legolas, to undo this horrid dread I have inflicted upon you."
"I do not know." The Elf bowed his head, his golden tresses sweeping down to form a curtain, shielding his face from Aragorn's knowing eyes. He could not, however, still the involuntary trembles that ran through his taught frame, even when Aragorn's firm hand gripped his shoulder, and he knew without a doubt that the king did not have to see the silvery tears streaming down his cheeks to know that they were there.
"Mellon nín, do not cry, please do not shed such tears of pain. I am here for you, I am always here for you, you are terribly dear to me and it pains my heart to see you thus. Our friendship is as strong as it always was … Aníron ú-pen dân le gwador nín. Amin mela le, Legolas."
Legolas blinked rapidly to clear his teary vision. His voice wavered just slightly. "Sometimes the pain is too much."
He sensed the king behind him then, but he was no afraid. Aragorn's arms slipped around his chest, and pulled him backwards until the king had the Elf snugly embraced, the man's chin resting atop the prince's golden hair. Legolas relaxed marginally, revelling in the warmth Aragorn provided. Indeed, the king's body heat was a welcome relief to the cold night air, and his next words proved to soothe the Elf considerably.
"I know, but we can bear it together. You are not alone."
Legolas closed his eyes, inhaling the unique scent of his friend. It was amazing, Aragorn always managed to make him feel strong, no matter how weak he was; Aragorn always knew the right words to say. But then again the cry of a gull echoed through his mind, and he shivered, unwillingly enraptured by the call. It was consuming him … swallowing him … he was drowning.
"Then please, stay with me this night," he implored softly. "I could not bear the loneliness."
The king's arms tightened around his willowy frame, and he found the strength to pry his eyes open once more.
"You are not alone, Legolas. You know this." Aragorn's words were firm, and they left little room for argument.
"I am not alone so long as you are with me."
One of the king's hands moved up to rest over the Elf's heart, and for a long moment they could both feel the steady thud of Legolas' heartbeat against Aragorn's fingers. The stars twinkled brightly, overjoyed at the restoration of faith, and the friendship the unlikely pair on the balcony held.
"I am always with you, I promise."
"I will hold you to your word, Estel."
Legolas' hands moved up to cover the king's own and he snuggled back into the warmth of the man, trusting Aragorn implicitly to keep him from falling from the railing. Without looking, he could sense the soft smile the king wore, and it warmed his heart to know that his friend spoke true.
"You will not leave for the havens?" Aragorn queried after a moment.
Legolas felt uncertainty claim him once more. Did Aragorn want him to leave? Or did he want him to stay? Legolas did not want to become a burden to his dear friend, but at the same time his heart vehemently craved the friendship and love that was offered to him here in Middle Earth. "Not unless you would send me from your sight."
The king's reply served to chase away his fears.
"I would have you stay and lighten my heart with the sound of your laughter for many years yet, mellon nín."
"I am glad," whispered Legolas.
"So am I," Aragorn's voice was passionate. "Even a king needs a brother. I am lucky to have the very best."
Aragorn paused, and together the Elf and the man revelled in the beauty of the night. The moon shone brightly, and the stars seemed to dance and twinkle across the sky. Peace and new hope washed over them gently, refreshing the Elf's shivering soul and restoring their faith in each other. Aragorn's soft chuckle broke the quiet.
"Do my eyes deceive me, or are yours threatening to slip shut? Come, Legolas, you need to rest."
It was a well-known fact that the man and the Elf upon the balcony were as stubborn as each other, and true to reputation, they did not disappoint.
"I wish to stay here."
"And I forbid it. You are dead on your feet."
"Who are you to think that you have power over me?" Legolas teased, feeling happiness creep back into his spirits. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, but he fought to hide it from Aragorn as the king let out an undignified snort.
"I'll have you know that I am King of Gondor, while you are but a prissy prince."
The Elf's eyes sparkled at the barb.
"Careful. You might regret your words, ranger."
"I might, but all the same I will not have you spend another night singing on this cold balcony." Legolas opened his mouth to protest, but the king wasn't finished. "The sea can wait, Legolas, the real world needs you now."
The prince let out a wistful sigh, considering his friend's words heavily. "Perhaps you are right."
Aragorn smiled smugly. "I am always right. Now off to bed with you, princeling."
"As you wish, naneth."
They lapsed into silence.
"What, you've no witty comeback for me?" quipped the prince, unable to hide the smile on his face any longer.
"Oh hush, pointy ears," Aragorn scolded. "Just be quiet."
"Okay."
Aragorn squeezed his friend tightly, and kissed the crown of the prince's hair. Legolas breathed deeply, letting his friend's love wash over him. It felt so good, and for the first time in many days, he felt needed, wanted and loved. Aragorn pulled him backwards some more, and the Elf obliged to the unspoken request by swinging his legs back over the balcony. The king allowed the prince a moment to regain his footing, before releasing Legolas from his embrace, and instead swinging a brotherly arm around the Elf's slender shoulders. Together they walked from the balcony back into the darkened room.
Aragorn pulled at the thick blankets, and pushed the Elf down onto the soft bed. Legolas slipped his soft shoes from his feet and crawled into the inviting comfort. He closed his eyes, and snuggled down, ready to sink into a welcome oblivion. He opened his eyes again as he felt the blankets shift, and discovered Aragorn busily securing them around him.
"There's no need to tuck me in, Estel. Stop mothering me."
"I want to mother you, so just be quiet."
Legolas' lips curved in a smile.
"Fine."
Aragorn leant over and placed a tender kiss to the Elf's brow, smiling gently as the exhausted Elf sought to stay awake.
"Sleep well. I will stay here."
Legolas watched in lazy silence as Aragorn pulled up an old arm chair next to the bed, grabbed a thick blanket, and settled down. Aragorn smiled fondly at the prince. The prince's eyes were half-lidded, a sign of his sheer exhaustion, and he could feel sleep claiming him quickly. You are not alone, mouthed the king.
The Elf's words were barely audible.
"Thank you, Estel, gwador nín."
And with that, the two friends slipped away to the quiet of slumber and the realm of dreams, both aware that despite whatever problems they would face on the morrow, they would not be alone. There was no need to fear. As long as they were friends, they could handle anything that life threw their way.
THE END
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Translations:
Estel = The name Aragorn was given by the Elves.
Mellon nín = My friend
Aníron ú-pen dân le gwador nín. Amin mela le, Legolas. = I desire no one but you as my brother. I love you, Legolas.
Naneth = Mother
Gwador nín. = My brother.
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