Legolas was interesting; that could never be denied. Aragorn had always been vaguely intrigued by him- in his youth, Aragorn had even been slightly intimidated by him.
The intimidation, of course, had long past, and as for the intrigue… Aragorn put it down to being caused by a certain brand of allure belonging to the Grey Elves. It was inconsequential in any case, merely a lofty puzzle to try to solve during the times he felt like entertaining abstract thoughts and ideas. The interest was distant, detached.
Nevertheless, it was present, if not prominent, in Aragorn's mind. And so, he found himself occasionally paying a slight bit more attention to Legolas than he normally would.
He seemed to embody what it meant to be an elf, at first. That wasn't so remarkable. But his strange lightheartedness that shone through his grave exterior was kind of odd. Anyone who had to try to be grave in times like this had to be something special.
So, When Legolas sprinted over the snow through Saruman's blizzard and barely left footprints behind, Aragorn nearly smiled.
When Legolas called, "I'm off to find the sun," he did smile.
--
It was in the mines of Moria that it first occurred to Aragorn that there really was something he was not quite able to grasp. It happened when he fell into Legolas' arms, after crossing the gap safely along with Frodo. In the moment itself, there was no time for thought, only a sort of instinctive protectiveness and a bit of fear and whatever it was that took over his mind when he was in a battle that kept him driving everyone foreword, trying to keep them all safe and get them out of here. The moment was lost in all the fervor of circumstance.
But after Moria, and for a long time after that, when trying to think about Gandalf and then trying not to think about Gandalf, his thoughts would begin to slide through his head and land on moments within battles, moments formerly forgotten amidst a haze of instinct and fight.
It was during a time like this that he remembered that catch- his eyes, locking with Legolas' for a fraction of a second before a huge jolt made him tumble and it was all he could do to keep Frodo from falling in the wrong direction before he realized that he'd made it and Frodo made it and that would have been such an unfitting way to die, not even in battle but in flight.
He remembered that, as Legolas caught him, there had been a fraction of a moment when his forehead was pressed against Legolas' long neck, and his eyes saw elvish skin, yes, and suddenly his mind was flashing beautiful darkness and stillness and trees and sweet air and cool water. Aragorn was sure that he could remember feeling a pulse beating twice against his temple, sure that he recalled his dry lips brushing over the fine fabric of Legolas' tunic.
It all amounted to a moment of beauty and calm and a chance to collect his thoughts and lose his grip on reality but regain it with a sharper grasp than before.
How?
How, in a moment which could not have lasted more that a single second, was it possible to experience so many things? In the midst of such chaos, how is it that such dreams could be conceived?
So now, he found himself curious. Elves had ceased to truly be a mystery to him long ago, so why should this one suddenly seem to hold the key to something unknown?
Their eyes met now, briefly, over the flame, and Legolas looked at him and nodded his head once, acknowledging something that Aragorn couldn't quite fathom. Aragorn gazed back evenly, nodding in return, before turning back to his sword and the business of cleaning it.
He could figure out this puzzle later. It didn't matter right now.
Time was too valuable.