Characters: Aragorn/Legolas
Rating: PG-13, for one minor reference.
Legolas sat up. He had just woken up from a dream that kept on haunting him, no matter what he tried to do. Whether he lay on his left, cushioning his head with his elbow, or lay on his back, linking his hands to use as an impromptu pillow, or if his eyes closed of his own accord and he had no choice in sleeping arrangements.
No matter how he slept, he always had the same dream.
Reaching out for something, something, something. Something out there, waiting for him. Something out there, waiting to be found. Waiting for Legolas so Legolas could protect him. Waiting so he could protect Legolas.
He always woke with one hand outreached, exactly 11.6 centimeters from his face at an angle of 80 degrees.
It killed him, this nagging feeling. This feeling that something was about to come, that this something was about to be found.
Until one day he met a man, a mortal man. Strider. Aragorn.
Legolas started having new dreams. No more waking up with one hand in front of his face. Rather, underneath the covers, where no one suspected an elf of putting his hands. No more restlessness. Rather, a yearning for something he knew was untouchable but wanted to touch nonetheless, touch with every fiber being so he would know that it was real.
Until one day they weren't dreams anymore.
They were real.