Wow! It's been forever since I've written and posted something. School just really takes a toll on free time, but I'm going a little writing stir-crazy and just had to post this story even though it's in progress. Fear not, as always, I make the promise that I will never abandon a story and will see it to the finish line.
This piece was inspired by the story "Guilty" where a line mentions Legolas being arrested for pig theft by StarLight9, a lovely fanfic writer I definitely recommend checking out. Hope everyone enjoys, as always let me know what you liked and what I should improve on :)
Disclaimer: Yep, 2016 and I still don't own Lord of the Rings, surprise!
"No."
"Aragorn..."
"No."
"Estel."
"Calling me Estel isn't going to get you anywhere mellon-nin. The answer is still no."
"But what could possibly go wrong?" King Elessar's head snapped up to gaze at his best friend as if he had just sprouted an orc head. The elf standing by the window overlooking Minas Tirith's garden just stared back with wide, innocent blue eyes. Aragorn mentally cursed. He had seen that dazzling sweet look before and it never boded well.
"What could possibly go wrong?" He echoed with incredulity. "You could be waylaid by orcs."
"Orc packs are few and far between after Sauron's fall, especially on Gondor's roads, and you know I can handle myself even if I do somehow meet the foul creatures." Aragorn waved away the response. He had watched the famed warrior prince of Mirkwood fight dark creatures since he was a child. Aragorn knew better than anyone how capable Legolas was but that was hardly his point.
"You could be attacked by wargs." He continued.
"Arod would outrun them, or the beasts would find an arrow between their eyes before they got within a league."
"You could be caught in an avalanche." There was a slightly desperate quality edging into the king's voice. Legolas raised an unimpressed eyebrow at the human crouched on his bed. His friend was really grasping at straws now.
"Aragorn. It's summer." The king muttered something suspiciously like 'never stopped you before' but Legolas let it pass.
"You could fall off a cliff." Legolas's eyes widened indignantly.
"When did I ever…"
"Eight years ago, hunting trip with Elladan and Elrohir, right around the midsummer festival in Imlandris."
"That is true." The archer conceded, "But that was under extenuating circumst…"
"The point is." Aragorn cut in firmly. "Everything could go wrong." The prince just sighed shaking his golden head. He crossed his arms and leaned casually against the window frame, head cocked slightly to the side. His bearing was casual but adamant and he met his friend's gaze steadily. Aragorn groaned covering his eyes with the back of his hand and falling flat onto the bed with a muffled thud. He recognized that stance of calm defiance. He had seen it often enough, usually when Legolas had made his mind up about something and was trying to convince his father who could be equally, if not more, stubborn than his son.
"You're not going to give up are you?" Aragorn asked peeking at the amused elf now leaning over slightly to smile down at his companion. "And nothing I say is really making a difference is it?" A gentle shake of the head. "Why must you be so stubborn mellon-nin!" The king cried exasperatedly.
"Runs in the family." Was the cheeky reply. A smile spread across Aragorn's face as a new thought occurred to him.
"I could order you as your king. Lord of Ithilien." Legolas grinned merrily, happy to entertain the moot debate.
"Then I go not as Lord of Ithilien, but as Prince of Eryn Lasgalen." Aragorn gave a frustrated growl lowering his hand back over his eyes. The smile on the fair elf's face turned into a small frown.
"Estel why are you so against this? I just want to go visit some of the outlying villages in Gondor. I'll be back well within a week. Tis not as if I'm declaring that I wish to march upon Mordor. What is troubling you?" Hearing genuine concern in Legolas's voice Aragorn sat up looking to the elf's crystal blue eyes.
"Legolas not all of the smaller villages are as…accepting as the people in Minas Tirith." The prince's eyes lit up in realization but did not utter a word as Aragorn chewed his bottom lip nervously.
Aragorn knew that Legolas wasn't oblivious, he had walked Middle-Earth for millennia. The prince was well acquainted with how misguided notions about his race could lead to hostility and violence.
Aragorn recalled with mixed anger and nostalgia the memories of Legolas and him being chased or beaten out of villages in his days as a ranger because the company he kept was of elven race. Yet somehow the idea of people in Gondor, his people, possibly acting violently against his brother in all but blood because of blind prejudice made him feel sick.
Legolas must have guessed at some of Aragorn's thoughts. Slender fingers guided the king's chin so silvery-gray eyes were locked with brilliant blue. This time the ageless eyes were filled with understanding.
"Estel listen to me. You cannot control the actions of your subjects. They're will is their own and only time will bring understanding and peace between our races. Let me go and maybe I can begin changing their minds." Aragorn relaxed slightly but Legolas could tell his friend wasn't entirely convinced. "I'm only scouting out some small towns, I'll be back before you even notice I'm gone. I wouldn't dare stay away longer, who knows what state of ruin I will find Gondor in if I leave you to your own devices for too long." Aragorn swatted at the insolent elf who dodged the blow easily but was grateful all the same for Legolas's attempt to lighten the mood.
"I have Arwen with me now arrogant Eldar!"
"So you admit you cannot rule without dear Arwen's or my help."
"I never… oh never mind it's pointless to argue with elves." He muttered sourly but his grey eyes were dancing. Legolas collapsed onto the bed next to Aragorn both staring into nothingness. The pair settled into a comfortable silence. For long minutes all that could be heard was the soft rustle of leaves.
"Promise me you'll come back safe." Aragorn whispered. Legolas smiled broadly at the ceiling. It was a promise the human had always managed to extract from the prince even when he was only a babe. Though the elf could not always honor that particular promise it was a reassuring ritual none the less.
"I can promise that I will try." Aragorn nodded. As he had matured into an adult and learned the horrors of battle himself he knew to guarantee a safe return was folly. A hand found its way onto the king's shoulder and squeezed reassuringly. Aragorn gripped the hand back in gratitude. The archer sprang quickly to his feet and swung his bow, quiver, and twin knives onto his back.
"The sooner I depart the sooner I may return." The elf said convivially, breaking the pensive serenity of the room. Aragorn smiled halfheartedly, waving farewell as the lithe figure slid through the doorway and vanished into the long stone hallways of the palace. As soon as the green and brown form vanished Aragorn dropped back onto the plush bed trying to find comfort in the soothing rays of sun filling the room with warmth. The king couldn't shake the feeling that something was definitely going to go very wrong.
Legolas cantered merrily through the grassy plains of Gondor's countryside, his platinum tresses thrown to the wind. It had been three days hence the morning Legolas had set out from the gates of Minas Tirith to traverse the free roads of Gondor. The trip had so far been successful despite Aragorn's dire predictions.
All the outskirt villages the prince had visited had been hesitant at first but then mostly curious to have an elf carrying news from their capitol in their midst. Save one rather unfortunate incident at a tavern, which Legolas had absolutely no intention of informing his friend about, nothing tragic had occurred on his expedition. No Orcs, no Wargs, and best of all, no avalanches.
Now he was meandering slowly back in the direction of the White City. Legolas called Arod to a halt on the top of a large hill to survey the beautiful expanse of rolling green hills. Far beyond the range of sight for a Man he spotted a copse of trees with a single great oak that dwarfed its companions.
"What say you to one last stop among friends before we must return to Estel's stuffy stone city." He called playfully down to Arod. The great Rohirrim horse tossed his snowy head launching into a gallop towards the distance trees. Legolas let out a whoop of joy lowering himself onto his steeds back to let him run faster. The wind whistled loudly in his ear, the ground turning into an emerald blur. What could be the harm of one extra visit.
As Legolas drew closer he noticed the oak was indeed a mighty specimen of its kind. Great trunks branched in every direction basking in the powerful summer rays. The other beech and ash trees, though normal in size, seemed miniscule next to their grand kin. The wood-elf jumped lightly off his horse giving him a gentle pat and allowing him to roam wherever he will.
He approached the tree as Arod trotted away admiring the strength and grace of the ancient being. Placing a hand on the knotted trunk the elf called out a deferential greeting. The oak did not respond immediately for it had been long since a creature who could understand its song called to it but Legolas could still feel the ancient and vibrant melody flowing through the earth joining the symphony of Arda. Finally the oak returned the greeting with great cheer, welcoming the Firstborn beneath its bows. Legolas smiled at the tree settling himself between the raised roots and reclining his head comfortably against the trunk resting his weapons against a nearby branch.
Birdsong filled the air. The musicians of nature's choir appeared only as small brown specs flittering between the vast branches of the oak gathering food and building nests. Dappled sunlight shimmered periodically through the thick canopy above creating shifting mirages on the grassy floor. The blue sky stretched across the sky broken only by the occasional fluffy white cloud. In the distance Legolas noticed a humble farm, and some distance further, a small human town. A soft breeze brushed across the trees bringing with it the pleasant fresh scent of wild flowers.
In the protected sanctuary of the oak a brown squirrel even dared scuttle down to sniff curiously at the prince's hand. Deciding Legolas was not a threat the woodland creature curled contentedly next to the prince falling into a light slumber. Smiling at the slightly comical scene the elf closed his owns eyes. Legolas let out a deep breath entranced in the steady song of the oak. The tree reminded the young elf in some ways of his own father, ancient, noble and proud. Between the aria of the oak and soft orchestra of life Legolas slipped from the waking world in to the realm of Elven dreams.
When Legolas shifted from dreams back to awareness the first thing he noticed was that his present reality was not nearly as pleasant as the peaceful recollections he was experiencing. There were loud grating voices and bright irritating lights flashing in his vision. Blinking his eyes back into focus Legolas realized he was surrounded by throng of men dressed in raggedy clothes all holding pitchforks, shovels, and other threatening farming utensils.
Night had long fallen. The only illumination came from the numerous torches the men held. The sight was nothing like the idyllic scene present when he had fallen asleep. He swept his gaze across the crowd assessing them in silence while pressing a reassuring hand against the oak feeling the tree's concern.
The prince's first thought would have been bandits but these men did not look like scarred and hardened criminals but rather regular townsfolk. The prince rose to give a greeting hoping for the best but he never even got to open his mouth. Before he had the chance to so much as rise to his full height a brutal fist collided squarely with the elf's jaw.
"You thieving scum!" A buff middle aged man with an unkempt beard yelled raising another furious fist. Dazed and blinking black spots of his eyes Legolas held up a placating hand.
"Sir I'm sure there has been a misunderstanding. I" But Legolas was quickly forced to duck and spin out of the man's way as he launched another powerful punch.
"Think ya can lie yer way outta this with em pretty words and vile trickery." He cried. Legolas shot a look at his knives laying only a few feet away but unfortunately his maneuver to avoid the irate man's fist had put a mob of at least a dozen people between himself and his precious weapons.
"Lastor this the one?" A man called out amidst the throng of people.
"Ya bet it is. I'd recognize em cowardly sorcerers anywhere. He's the one who stole my pigs. Get im!"
"Please this is a misunder," He implored but spun sideways as a man dashed forward with a coil of rope trying to secure the blond elf. Legolas weaved gracefully through the mob trying to reach his weapons or the tree line where he could escape on Arod. However no matter his skill Legolas was quickly being overwhelmed by numbers alone. It seemed as if half the town had joined the hunt to apprehend him.
Feinting to the left to avoid the sharp point of a pickax he was too late to dodge a thick wooden poll which was driven into the elf's stomach. Pain ripped through his abdomen dropping the prince to his knees as he struggled to regain lost air. Another foot slammed into his shoulder smashing his head into the cold ground. Legolas swept his leg out blindly hearing the gasp of two people who had just been swept off their feet.
He leapt up with elven agility smashing a fist into a man's temple dropping him to the ground and cleaving upwards with an elbow effectively breaking another brute's nose. He could see his ivory knives now, a mere three feet away. Just as he crouched to roll between the two men blocking his path a pair of hands grabbed his left wrist wrenching it hard. Thrown off balance the elf landed hard on his back.
The man who had grabbed his arm motioned to Lastor who pounded a shovel cruelly down upon the archer's arm. A nauseating crack signaled the breaking of bone. A pained scream echoed into the black night. Legolas attempted to rise but a thousand fists and boots seem to be raining down upon every exposed part of his body. The piercing pain engulfing his left arm was spreading to the rest of his body.
Giving up, Legolas curled into a tight ball cradling his broken arm close to his chest and shielding his head with his remaining right arm. The beating stopped abruptly. Legolas could barely make out Lastor's muscled form through a haze of pain. The last thing the elf remembered was the broad blade of a shovel descending upon his head then all turned to darkness.