Stolen Romance
Disclaimer: Anything you find remotely familiar to LOTR does not belong to me, which includes the places, characters etc. (Alas, if only I owned Legolas :P) they belong to the ever too wonderful TRR Tolkien, whom we must thank, or else where comes our beloved elf and man this day?
Warning: this is strictly AL slash, therefore if you are against m/m relationship do not proceed – don't say you haven't being warned
Synopsis: AU. When an elven king bows in front of the king of Gondor for a favor, would the king put everything down in his realm to the side of his one and only lover?
Author's Notes: Eek! First of all: I seek excuse for anything unbelievable as such in this story, please remember this is only a fiction and some things are merely used to the advantage of the story only. Of course as this is AU, many things would be differ from the Tolkien version of elves and men altogether, or from the real world, hm? And since I am obviously no expertise in Middle East, the world of Tolkien, there are obviously many I would mistaken and please, if I could ask for corrections ^_^ now let's proceed…
Genre: Romance/Angst (please beware, I'm a sadist)
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"…" – Speech
This – Thought
Chapter 1: Of the bittersweet memories
The sun was sinking fast behind the misty mountains, staining the sky a color of rich orange. The stern man who was the king of Gondor looked over his balcony into the horizon beyond, his vision lingering upon the path that was dimly lit within his heart, hoping…
He closed his eyes, feeling yet another wash of remorse pouring over him. The features of an elven prince formed behind his closed eyelids, as beautiful as ever. The long golden hair… the ever-so-bright sapphire blue eyes… the once lingering twinkle of mirth… what he wouldn't give just to catch glimpse of the elven beauty again…
He allowed the softest of a sigh to escape his lips, once again caught up in the memories… the bittersweet memories.
[Flashback]
Young Aragorn, who was still known by his elven name – Estel Peredhil, turned in frantic circles, lost. All around him was but a blur of green and brown, of trees and no else. He was only five and ten years of age, and though wiser beyond his years, was still a mere novice in his home, where the Imladris elves dwelt.
"Elladan? Elrohir?" Estel called, his firm voice ringing through the thick branches that concealed him.
There was no reply.
"Elladan? Elrohir?" He cried again, a higher note of desperation in his voice.
Silence greeted him.
By the Valar I should've never being so stupid as to slip away without their knowing, especially when I don't even know the perils hidden in the depth of the forest. Estel was crashed, and hopeless. Heavens, I'm lost. That was not his only worry; however, as he had not minded much about the newborn adventures for ranger blood runs deep within his veins, but the mere thoughts of his ada's reaction sent unpleasant shivers down his spine. The lord of Imladris, Elrond the halfelven was a stern man indeed. And he had protested against Estel's involvement in the hunting trip, after all.
Nay, I shall prove otherwise of ada's suspicions. Determined, young Estel headed towards his right, believing it was the path he had taken before he was 'unknowingly' separated with his brothers.
And he walked…
Thirst and hunger were upon him, his stomach growled for intended attention, but he paid none.
It was not until the light began faltering as the waning sun descends beneath the horizon did he notice the time. A small frown appeared on his weary face, dirtied and sweaty. He stopped, standing stock still under an old branched tree, his eyes darting from one part of the forest to another. And as he stood immobile, the exhaustion caught up with him. His eyelids felt heavy, and dropped dangerously low even though he had tried his hardest to keep them open. Trusting himself to rest for the littlest of time purely so he could get on his way sooner, he lay upon the forest floor and let dream lure him into its very own land.
He dreamt of a stranger, of elven bred, with blonde hair and sapphire eyes, and most handsome of any creature Estel had ever seen.
Blurrily, Estel saw the stranger descend from a horse meters away, an elf's natural glow shone about him even more glamorous than the last few sunrays that lingered beyond the horizon. Indeed, the stranger himself had stolen the beauty of the sun itself. He came to Estel, ever so gracefully he seemed to glide and not walk like humans do. In the softest tone Estel heard the stranger's murmurings of soft elvish; rather a harmonious melody that called to him yet sent him deeper into a slumber of nothingness. And he almost cried in anguish as he dreamt no more, for the dream was taken from him.
When Estel awoke again it was late at night. The stars were bright above him as his eyes opened slowly to witness the world. He was not yet fully awoken, and unaware of all that was around him but his face showed those of uncomprehending as his eyes drifted towards the fire that was alight beside him. Where did the fire come from?
"So you've decided to awaken." And there came a strong but pleasing voice in answer to his self-asked question, the voice was familiar in a sense. "Had you slept any longer I would've believed you were never going to open your eyes."
Estel didn't speak, allowing his eyes to wander towards the cloaked figure hidden nicely in the shadows, a mere meters away from him. He asked in instinct curiosity "Who are you?"
"It is rather perilous to be unaware in forests, were there any orcs or wolves you would've being their nights dine now." The figure said, as though deaf to Estel's question.
"Who are you?" Estel asked again, a wondering frown upon his face.
"If I may tempt you, I believe the question is, where are you heading?"
And Estel swiftly forgot his persistence as his present worry came before him once again. He forged his best tough voice and replied, "Towards the House of Elrond, sire, if you must know." He added to himself in a dreaded whisper, "Bless the Valar, I slept for a long while indeed!"
"And what might be the reason that a human so young as yourself is heading towards Imladris?"
"I am not 'so young', sire. I am five and ten, Estel Peredhil, son of Lord Elrond, and I must hither home."
"Then you are indeed who I thought you were." The cloaked figure seemed to smile in the shadows, Estel felt his presence lighten. "Return to home… aye, that you must. Though it is extremely fortunate that I am also a visitor to Lord Elrond of recent, shall we keep company then, if that troubles you not?"
Estel gave the stranger a blank stare, "Aye, that would be most welcomed, but I have not yet seen your face, sire. Hence forgive me for my doubt that I do not know if you are friend or foe."
"You shall trust me as you like, I do not compel thee." Estel could hear the silent laughter that was in his words.
"I shall trust you then; something inside me bid me to do that. Perhaps it is instinct." He shifted his gaze from the stranger to the north path ahead, and began to walk.
"Nay! I fear I must stop thee, you are walking the wrong way, little one. The House of Elrond lies to our South. I believe it is easier to travel by horse, have you had any, but two for one creature isn't much of a problem, seeing you're as little as you are."
"I am not little!" Estel cried in protest while blushing crimson for being caught unknowing of his way home.
"If you must insist, little one, hop on to my horse." He pointed towards his steed.
Estel realized that the extreme beauty, which was the stranger's horse, was bare of back. He must be an elf Estel gathered, the little weight in his heart disappeared. He is 'friend', then. All doubts gone, he climbed the horse with little help, and seated himself on the back of the white gleaming creature. The stranger patted her gently as he himself mounted, whispering to it in melodic elvish of his bidding.
It took off suddenly, fast as light.
They had ridden endlessly for the rest of the night in silence, no words were exchanged. When the first rays of the sun adorned Middle Earth, welcoming the dawn of another day, they caught the distant glimpse of the grandness where the House of Elrond stood.
"We're nearing." The stranger whispered to Estel, the tingling waters of the river running were just ahead.
Lord Elrond was waiting as their horse stopped at the stairs of which led to the House of Elrond. Behind him stood two very guilty looking Elladan and Elrohir. Their frowns transformed into a delighted smile when their keen eyesight caught sign of Estel on the approaching horseback, a relieved sigh escaped their lips.
"Welcome, Legolas." The lord of the Sindar elves greeted in the usual solemn, commanding voice. "It has being long."
As a respecting gesture, the stranger who went by the name of Legolas as Elrond called him, pulled off his cloak's hood to reveal his handsome face, his eyes reflected those of mirth, he jested. "Indeed it has being long, my lord. Your son, Estel being his name had I not being wrongly informed, could not recognize if I were friend or foe, I feared I was not welcomed."
"You are forever welcomed to my realm, Legolas. Please forgive Estel of his short understanding."
"Ú-moe edhored (there is nothing to forgive)." Legolas chuckled softly, turning to watch Estel's reaction, only to find Estel gaping at himself with a shocked expression.
Estel was surprised, aye that he is. He swallowed a gasp, blinking furiously, hoping he had not strayed into yet another dream. Legolas! Was he not the elven bred who was in his delusion? Beautiful and elegant above all other, with that long neat blonde hair, braided at the sides down the back…those sapphire eyes so full of life, and … and… Estel cared not if his actions were rude, but he simply could not remove his eyes from the gorgeous elf that was there. He was captured. So totally, fully captured.
He felt his heart's pump race against his ribs, the blood rushing towards his face; his knees buckle as though they had turned into water, unsupportive.
He felt faint.
[End of Flashback]
Aragorn POV –
If only I had understood the racing of the heart. If only I had understood the blush, the raise of hope… but nay, I was too young. Had I only being a few years older, perhaps I would've comprehended. Just perhaps. But that 'maybe' was the hope to everything I had ever loved.
Five or six years afterwards… when Legolas' memory was indistinct and blurred in my heart and mind… I met Arwen Undómiel, daughter of Elrond the Halfelven. I thought her beautiful, though in my heart I knew she could not compare to a certain blonde elf of years back. I ignored that thought, my mind had failed me then, I believed the blonde beauty would never return what I felt for him and wished only to heal my grieving heart.
But in every aspect I compared her with my source of admiration that was the Mirkwood prince, her dark curls to his light blonde hair, her unspoken melancholy to his mirthful character. I knew that in no way would she outshine him, and in no way would my heart stop crying out to him no matter how time lapses, but she was the only healer of my spirit, and in desperation I declared my love for her.
She said naught to me, only brought me to her father. Lord Elrond told me of the bitter fate I had chosen and I learnt then of the evil force that worked against us – Sauron. For almost 39 years afterwards I took leave to survive in the wild, laboring in the battle that one day would bring forth the doom of either Sauron or the world of men and elves. I met very little of Legolas in my years of a ranger, but when I did I remember them to be the most pleasant of all the years I had spent alone in the north. He had the ability to lighten my heart, and destroy all my fears, bring me optimism when all hopes were lost.
Then one day I came to the Lothlorien woods, unaware of Arwen's presence. When we met again under the trees of Caras Galadhon of golden leaves, she brushed her lips against mine and claimed in her sweetest voice her heart belonged to none but me. None so strange to me I felt no happiness of joy, instead all the more emptiness.
I left her again, our parting filled with unknown promises and wishes. I hated to lie, I hated to state so wrongly against the burning of my heart, I hated the knowledge that I was indeed using the daughter of Elrond. But I was selfish, and for that I was granted an eternity of regrets and lies.
I remember clearly of when the fellowship had being formed. "And you have my bow." He had said straight after I pledged my part, and though I knew it was wrong, I could not help but wonder why his decision had being so hastily made. Nevertheless I was ecstatic. To be alongside the elven beauty as we face the doom of Middle Earth together seemed not as perilous as it was first made out to be.
That night changed everything.
[Flashback]
"Do you remember when we first met?" Arwen asked Aragorn, her eyes searched for answers within his orbs.
"I thought I had strayed into a dream." He answered, daring not to hold her searching eyes, for fear she would look right through his mask, his lie.
"Long years have passed. You did not carry troubles you carry now. Do you remember what I told you?"
"You said you would bind yourself to me, forsaking the immortal life of your people." He said, and with every word his heart filled with an unknown dread. How much he wanted to tell her right then and there that he did not love her more than he would love a sister? He could not… he would not.
She held to him, her hand reached to caress his cheeks, guiding his eyes to lock upon her own as she breathlessly whispered, "And to that I hold. I choose a mortal life." She pushed something into his palm, cold and warm at the same time. It was the evenstar, a sign of her immortality, her most precious jewel.
"I cannot accept this." He almost cried out in desperation. How could he accept a gift of eternity when he did not love her even a fraction of her love for him? How could he forsake her from her kin when he had nothing to give her but an empty heart? Oh, how he so wanted to love her. To dearly hold her, to cherish her, and to forget about the elven prince who took all there was in his heart.
"It is mine to give to whom I will," She pressed her hand over his fingers, concealing the jewel in his palm, "Like my heart."
And under the cool shade of the trees in the beautiful garden, they kissed.
[End of Flashback]
How foolish of it was I, to accept the gift she had adorned me. To know the doom it would set upon me and yet I had accepted it with that simple kiss. That night was unforgettable; she had given herself to me along with her strongest and deepest love. The next day, we parted.
The fellowship endured much, so much it was unbearable for me think, to say. So many friends and kin were lost to the evil that was spreading from the mountains of Mordor. And through the darkness the most unimaginable friendships formed, those of the dwarf and elf, whom never acquainted.
After I was presented the depth of her love, which in the form of her evenstar, immortality and her soul. My mind had being set, that my heart would sing for none bar her existence, and only she would stir the love within me. Only her. I would forget about the love that once stirred me towards the blonde elf from Mirkwood, and my soul would forever belong to Undómiel.
Perhaps, just perhaps I would've succeeded, had it not being for that battle. The last battle. The Valar had answered my silent prayers, save it was too late. Too late.
[Flashback]
"Sons of Gondor, of Rohan. My brothers." Aragorn rode in front of the Gondorian soldiers and the Riders of Rohan, the remaining of Sauron's army appeared from behind the Black Gates, it was a sea of orcs, wargs and all that was evil. "I see in your eyes the same fear that would take the heart of me! A day may come, when the courage of men fails, when we forsake our friends and break all bonds of Fellowship, but it is not this day. An hour of wolves and shattered shields when the age of men comes crashing down! But it is not this day! This day, we fight! By all that you hold dear on this good earth, I bid you, stand, men of West!"
Behind him, Sauron's army marched towards them. Even for the bravest men, fear shook all that was in their heart. Sauron's army easily surrounded all that was of the men, all was silent. Too silent. They heard the distant calling of Sauron as the eye rested upon the battlefield, "Aragorn…Elessar…"
Aragorn slowly paced forwards upon his horse, and he turned as he swayed his sword in the face of battle. "For Frodo!" He cried. With that, he charged towards Sauron's army, Andùril – the blade that was remade, was tight in his grasp.
Without a second thought, Legolas charged his horse towards the enemy after the future king, Gandalf and the rest tight behind him. They were immediately swamped into a sea of darkness as one after another the evil creature under Sauron's bidding came forth for the kill. Many, many men were slayed, blood and deaths were all around them…
The sky cried its outrage as the Nazgûls too appeared, all was bleak, impossible. Deaths would surely allege all of them, and darkness had already claimed the thoughts of many.
Legolas dropped his bow, the arrows were almost useless as the orcs were too close. He pulled out his twin blades, his keen elven eyes desperately searching for that strong leader… How's he faring?
His heart almost stilled once his eyes sought their source. Aragorn had raised his blade to defend himself from a monster of Mordor, but his strength was failing him and he was thrown back to the ground. Legolas roughly defended himself from the surrounding orcs, desperately trying to get to his friend.
Aragorn turned his head, realizing that the beast had came right at him, aiming only to kill. He wanted to move away, but he could not. His legs had momentarily lost their use, and his blade was thrown meters away from him, he had lost his only means of defend. Doomed in every sense, he only hoped his end would come swiftly.
Goodbye, Legolas. He said a silent goodbye to the Mirkwood prince in his heart, regretting then more than ever before that he could not tell Legolas how much his presence meant to him, that he could not tell Legolas his last thoughts were of the elven beauty.
He waited for Mandos' greeting to the halls; he waited for the pain that would surely seer through him before he could finally find his eternal peace. But all he felt was a strong push.
He opened his eyes, and immediately he wished he had not. Valar give me strength. Legolas was where Aragorn was minutes ago, on the ground, dying.
Yes, Legolas was dying, as far as Aragorn could see. In a burst of outrage, he grabbed his fallen Andùril, ready to strike the beast when Gandalf came to his side. "Legolas might still be saved, go to him, Aragorn."
Personally wishing for no else, Aragorn staggered to the side of the elf, his sight blur seeing the dark crimson elven blood staining all that was around Legolas.
"Legolas…" He held the elf dearly against his chest, only vaguely aware of the battle… who cared if orcs had every opportunity to run a sword through him, who cared if he was bare to any attack… all he cared was of Legolas, his Legolas. "You needn't… you shouldn't…" His whispered aimlessly, unaware of what he was trying to say. His voice broke. "Why…?"
"A-Aragorn…" Legolas said through his labored breathing, he could only hazily make out Aragorn's figure crowded above him; and knew the world was slipping from him. He shook involuntarily as a spasm of pain shot through him from his chest wound; he was hurting everywhere… everywhere. He was cold… he had never felt so uncomfortable in his 3000 years of existence. Already, he could feel the clammy cold fingers of death coming to claim him. "I-I-I am f-fine. I-it is perilous, p…please for-forget about me. You must…must defend yourself."
"You cannot ask that of me." Aragorn was a wreck. Indeed, he looked strong as he had ever being, but his internal battle was eating him away. Right then and there he knew he could not live with the knowledge that Legolas died for him, he would rather die himself. What courage drove him to save me in the face of death? He felt the elf shiver in cold, and he held Legolas closer to his chest, hoping to warm the elf with his own body heat.
"Eagles! The eagles are coming!" Pippin cried somewhere amidst the battlefield, there was hope, after all.
Aragorn indistinctively heard eagle cries, heard the crash of Sauron's eye, the fleeting of Sauron's army, but he was not aware of any. His mind and soul were focused on the dying elf in his arms. So many things he wanted to say to his saviour, but he could pronounce none of the things he wanted to say bar whispering repeatedly, the light dim in his eyes, "Don't fade on me, Legolas. Dartha go nin. Tolo dan na ngalad.(Stay with me. Come back to the light)."
Legolas felt himself diving in and out of a blackened pit, and knew his time was short. How could he leave without telling the man he loved of his feelings? He could not… And as he felt himself plunging down that black hole, he whispered rather softly, "Gerich veleth nin, Estel. You always have." (You have my love.)
[End of Flashback]
He was saved, being brought back from the verge of death by Gandalf. The relief within me was so great I was overwhelmed with emotions… I could not believe Gandalf when he assured me of Legolas' safety. Legolas was dying… cold… limp… how could he have so easily being revived? But oh, how I wanted to hold him in my arms and let it be for the rest of eternity… to protect him from all evils… nothing should ever harm anyone so beautiful, especially him.
The rest of the time we spent together blissfully, my vow to Arwen was lost to me in the presence of Legolas. He often reminded me of my duty, of my kingdom and my betrothed, yet I always shushed him with soft kisses upon his tender lips.
I never wanted the life of ecstasy to end, but the day of the wedding and coronation came almost too soon. As I walked towards him, watching him with every step I took, admiring his beauty and glow, I felt my heart break. He was exceptionally beautiful that day, clad in robes of royal descent, in blues and silver, a prince's circlet embedded neatly upon his head. I put my hand on his shoulder, and we stared into each other's eyes that were the windows to our souls. He was masked by a smile, but how I knew him… he could no longer lie to me than lie to himself. He was in pain and I could feel it, his heart was shattering and I wished only to mend it… I could not. Yet how brave he was, to let that melancholy smile grace his lips, to grasp me by the shoulder and let his eyes lead me towards her.
"Hannon Le." I had simply thanked him. For what?
Cruelly, he left after the wedding, his last words to me were "Forget me, and never let me see thee, unless thee wishes me to take leave into the west. 'Us' is …was merely a brief romance. Stolen Romance. It should've never been."
--
"My lord?" A page called to the King yet again, waiting anxiously for his king to answer.
"Yes?" Aragorn shook his head to relieve him from the past, so absorbed was he, he had failed to hear the boy's calls.
"A party of elves wishes for a little of your time. They're waiting outside the doors."
"Elves?" Could it be Legolas? His heart jumped, "Send them in."
Thranduil walked in, followed only by his advisor, longest friend. Aragorn's hopes dropped to the pit of his stomach, though a feeling of deep sadness crept into his veins, frightening him.
"Lord Thranduil of Mirkwood," Aragorn invited his visitors to a seat, "What brings thee to Gondor?" He spoke otherwise while his heart longed to ask – How fares Legolas?
"Aragorn, son of Arathorn, many winters have passed since it is you and I last met. Do excuse me for such abrupt visit, but I have a need of great urgency only you may help. I come for your assistance to Mirkwood, king of men."
"What do you need of the Western men, my Lord? Had evil spread once again in the East?"
"Nay, the realm of Mirkwood is in peace. Many of us are retreating to the west, Valinor. (Aragorn's heart flinched at the old king's words. What of Legolas?) But it is you, alas, that I seek help from."
"Me?"
"Aye, come to Mirkwood, it is all I ask."
How Aragorn so dearly wanted to say "yes". But Legolas's words once again echoed by his ear,
"Forget me, and never let me see thee, unless thee wishes me to take leave into the west."
All these years he feared his lover would leave him to the blessed realm…feared that he would lose sight of his lover beyond the sea. He knew once again he had restrained the elven beauty of his longing to sail to the west, but he could not help himself, he had to live by the knowledge Legolas existed among the men, beside himself though unseen to his eyes.
"Nay, I cannot." The elven king's face fell at Aragorn's words, "I had made a promise."
"A promise is to be broken, Aragorn son of Arathorn."
"Perhaps, but I cannot. I must stay loyal to an oath I have sworn to live by."
Thranduil, with a deep look flashing across his face, knew Aragorn would not sway. He stood - a face of determination.
Aragorn thought his visitor was wrathful at his negative reply, and immediately he was sorry for his answer. "I-" He opened his mouth to explain more, but as the elven king slowly bowed to the king of men, Aragorn left his mouth open with astonishment.
"It has being many thousands of years since last I bowed before another, men or elf. But this moment I bow before you, Aragorn son of Arathorn, king of Gondor. Please, ride with me to Mirkwood.
It is Legolas. I fear he is dying.
He is dying."
~*
Notes: I know this is a hell of a long chapter, and I hope it would not be too boring considering its length. Somehow, it just got dragged on a little bit. The scene at the Last battle, if any were aware, Legolas was indeed looking as though he was desperate to save Aragorn, and thus it should happen, so I believe. Anyhow, reviews are welcomed, of course, but especially constructive criticism.