An Elven Tale

Disclaimer: Alas, nothing familiar belongs to me at all, they are from master TRR Tolkien, god bless his soul and thank him for his work. Oh and Peter Jackson is wonderful – for bringing LOTR alive.

Synopsis: AU. Legolas, prince of Mirkwood, had lived a normal elven life – that is, until he found a letter in the forest outside his home's range. Deeply touched after reading the letter, he embarks on a journey that would change his life, possibly forever. – OOC –   

Warning: Very, very, out of character and extreme AU. No ring, (but there is eastern evils, orcs etc and Sauron is not just 'an eye') - does not go along with the usual LOTR storyline. Slash (and if you are against m/m relationships for god's sake don't continue)

Author's Notes: As I said, this story is absolutely out of character and out of the Tolkien version of LOTR. You have being warned already. Anyhow, story is not beta-ed, constructive criticisms are most welcomed ^_^ oh yes, I love them.

Pairings: Aragorn/Legolas; implied Aragorn/Arwen

Genre: Romance/Angst (Also a little action/adventure)

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"…" – Speech

This – Thoughts

Prologue

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Dearest Arwen,

It has being nigh on a few months since my sight had last caught of your beauty, yet your presence is still as clear as the Nimrodel river in my mind and heart, our promises are echoes by my ears.

I miss you, melethril nin, the months of separation was torture to me, without you by my side to talk to at the silence of the night; unable to hear of your melodic voice, or to caress your heavenly cheeks – they were and still are too hard to learn to live without. I cannot live without you, beloved. Mayhap I have said this for many a time, but I must repeat again: you are everything to me, Arwen. Everything.

Amin mela lle. [I love you].

We hither now towards Imladris, I cannot wait for the day when you would be in my arms again – alas, it is not this day. My love for you grows stronger every minute I am away from you, and your scent is all that fills my desire with overpowering sense of longing. Oh how I miss you.

I have dreamt of you last night, you were calling to me, beckoning me towards you. But behind you were the evils beyond those I can imagine. Arwen, you are in danger: you and those of your kin. Ada has already foreseen many deeds that were to come to pass and the lady of the Golden Woods also.  The doom of Middle Earth is close, the fate of elves and men draws near. Evil stirs now in the East, melamin, please, keep yourself safe, I beg of thee.

These months of labour in the forest with the men of Gondor proved to be long and hard, but my kingdom needs me, I cannot lead the people of Gondor astray. They need me. The evils are gaining power over everything, we are losing time. A few men were lost in our journey, they were good men. Battle steals from us the best of people; I do not want to lose you too in this disarray, never.

You mustn't leave Imladris Arwen; the powers of your people will protect you there…

A sudden commotion disrupted Aragorn's emotions, an arrow narrowly missed him by mere inches shot past and landed its mark on the bank of a tree. He spun around; the letter dropped silently from his hands and onto the hard, cold ground.

The leaves rustled of near presence. Uninvited…presence.

"Aragorn…!" A man came to him, alarm in his voice.

"Orcs." Aragorn whispered, standing up. He unsheathed his sword from its scabbard in one swift motion, bidding the other men to do the same.  

Sure enough, out of the darkness came hurtling towards them a group of deadly creatures, each with their sword raised high, around twenty-two in number. Before the men were even ready, a few arrows had shot down two of their companions.

Aragorn roared with outrage, pulling his sword from the torso of one orc and slicing another with so such vigour he had never felt before. He turned and kicked away one behind him, his eyes burning of fierce flames. The world was in complete dismay; the orcs were gaining upon them. Many of their men had fallen captivity under the devious creatures, it was a hopeless battle.

"We cannot win." There was a cry above the noises of battle. Aragorn sighted his comrade by the corners of his eyes, aghast to note the other man's force was also failing by the second. "They mean not to kill us, we are in no peril – go Aragorn, leave us, you must go!"

"I cannot Matthew!" Aragorn mentally begged the man to stay strengthened, his bellow was in slight gasps, "That is cowardly; I cannot leave my men behind."

He felt a great push behind him, sending him beyond the battlefield. He panted as he tried to stand, his breaths came in grunts.

His eyes caught a quill, and an edge of a parchment – the letter! He reached for the quill, which still dripped with ink.

He scribbled a few more words, the sounds of the enemy close behind him. They were coming.

Orcs. Many of them. There is no way we can win. Remember I love you, melethril nin.

.

.

.

He let the letter from his hands, rolled horizontally on the ground and defended himself from the sharp blade of an orc. Their swords clashed.

A searing pan tore through his side – an arrow had embedded itself in its rightful destination, and before he knew what had happened… his world turned into pure blackness.

Silence.

Unaware to the orcs, the light breeze of the coming dawn carried the letter from the group…

Away…

Away…

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