Hello! This is my first Fanfiction story uploaded. It was written pretty much spur of the moment, so please forgive any minor inconsistancies. I have stuck as closely as possible to the books, with the exception of the setting and character's personal thoughts. Please read and review. If you wish for a reply, please leave your e-mail address. Thank you in advance.
Disclaimer; With the possible exception of a few dilapidated buildings, everything is Tolkein's. Not one molecule of hydrogen is mine. Aragorn, Legolas, Minas Tirith, the White Tree, all the fixins'...it's all Tolkeins.
And now that we've got THAT out of the way...please enjoy.
Aragorn sighed and pushed open the heavy wooden door of the palace at Minas Tirith. Outside, the night air was cool and clear and stars shone faintly in the West, dying near the horizon as they were elispsed by the sun's fading illumination. The White Tree was corpse pale in the reflected light.
The long green yard seemed empty. The gaurd (those that still lived) were spending the night at home with their families. Aragorn envied them. For a moment, he thought of Arwen and wondered if he would ever see her again, even if he survived the upcoming battle. A sudden movement to his right caused him to spin around, a well-trained hand locked on Anduril's hilt.
"Mellon nin, surely the light is not so bad that you would take me for an orc?" Legolas's pale eyebrows raised slightly. "Or is it your faulty human eyes?" His expression changed. "Nervous?"
Aragorn nodded but said nothing, letting his friend read him with the same effortlessness of the King reading a scroll.
"About the battle." The Elf sighed and turned back to the stars, but continued to speak. The wind carried his soft voice to Aragorn's ears. "I have said many times that I do not fear the dead. But I do fear death, Estel."
Aragorn started. "How did you know?" He asked. "Estel was my name when I was growing up in Rivendell. I never told you...did I?"
"No- never." Legolas blinked his bright eyes rapidly in surprise. "It just seemed- right, somehow." He paused, as if considering something. "I saw a strange thing," He said, "In Rohan, after you had revealed your identity to Eomer. It seemed as if a crown of stars shone on your head, as on the sons of Elrond." Before Aragorn could reply, he continued, "And, too, after the at Lebennin, I thought of how you...might have been."
"Might have been?" Aragorn asked.
"If you had taken the Ring."
"I wold never have taken it." Aragorn said, appaled by the very suggestion. "Like Faramir, even if I saw it laying on the roadside I would pass it by." At least, he hoped he would. He thought of Boromir and shivered in the cold night. He had never spoken to any of the Man's weakness, but he knew Frodo has told Faramir, though the Steward's son had told no one except his father and Denethor was now dead. Legolas would never know of the faults of Men.
"Boromir was right." Aragorn started, having the uncomfortable feeling that the Elf had read his mind. "About the Ring," Legolas clarified, and Aragorn breathed an inward sigh of relief. "It is so small a thing, to cause so much worry and trouble...and so much death." He shuddered and Aragorn knew it was not from the chill. Cold did not affect the Elves, but fear did. Legolas murmured something under his breath.
"What did you say?"
"I...nothing." His friend shook his head.
"Tell me." Aragorn grasped the Elf's shoulders and gently but firmly turned Legolas to face him. "What did you say?" his voice softened. "You can always entrust your thoughts to me, my friend."
"You might die." Legolas whispered, "At the Black Gates. Or Gimli might die. Or the hobbits. Or Frodo and Sam could be dead, even now." His bright eyes were wet and shineing with unshead tears. "You could throw your life away for a last cause, mellon nin."
"Don't say that." Aragorn barked. "Don't speak like this." His grip on Legolas's shoulders tightened and he gave the Elf a shake. "I am not going to die, Legolas."
"If not tomorrow, then the next day. Or the day after that." Legolas felt as if some other being had taken over his tounge and was saying these things. "You can live for a hundred years, Aragorn son of Arathorn, but death will always be waiting for you." The deamon let go of Legolas's tounge, leaving him agast. "Mellon nin, I am sorry." He gasped, then turned and ran, unable to face the Ranger any longer.
Aragorn watched his friend run down into Minas Tirith's coiling streets, waiting until his anger calmed before pursuing him. He found Legolas crouched in the shadow of a shattered building, his fair face hidden in his hands. The Elf's sharp ears picked up the sound of Aragorn's footsteps and he shyed away as if frightened.
"Legolas." Aragorn whispered softly, kneeling down next to the Elf. Not knowing what else to say, he waited.
Legolas risked a glance at Aragorn. The Man was angry, even angrier than even angried that he had been when Legolas had arrived at the Council of Elrond with the news taht Gollum had escaped his father's people. Unlike Elves, Men grew violent and unpredictable when angry, a King no less than other men, and Legolas knew his words had been more than he had a right to expect anyone to endure.
"I'm sorry," He offered again. "I don't know why I said that. I don't want you to die."
"That's good, because I don't plan on doing it any time soon." Aragorn smiled and, taking Legolas's hands from his face, pulled the Elf to his feet.
"But you will, eventually." Legolas whispered, "And then...I'll never see you again. Or GImli and the hobbits when they die. Or Theoden or Boromir or..."
Aragorn nodded and offered his own concerns. "If Arwen chooses to stay with me, she can never join her father and brothers in Valinor. I must force her to choose between me and her family. Who should she pick? Why should she accept me, with nothing to offer but love- and death?"
"No." Reaching out from his own grief, Legolas clasped Aragorn's hand. "Aragorn, you have withstood and renounced the Ring. You alone of Men have traversed the Paths of the Dead and lived, and conquered. Do not give in to despair now."
"How can I not, when I lead those I love into doom?" Aragorn asked.
"Not doom." Legolas shook his head, his eyes shineing by the light of the stars. "For Men are not bound to the circles of this world, and beyond theme is more than memory. And memory is all Arwen could have of you if she sails for the Undying Lands. With you, she can have life."
"And what of you?" Aragorn asked. "When, as you say, the rest of the Fellowship has gone on to that Place beyond all things, what will you have left?"
"Memories." Legolas smiled, not bitterly. "And memories, for my people, are more like this waking world than the starlight dreams of men. And...to find and to lose is the way of this world, but still blessed are those who chose to accept, knowing they will lose, rather than never to look at all. And who knows, but on some path yet unknown and unseen, the sundered songs of our kindred will join in harmony again? For," A mischevious glint formed in his eyes, "I would not wish to hear Men's voice alone in the First Song, much less the Second."
"Oh?" Aragorn laughed. "Well I assure you, Master Elf, that I have heard the tale of Nimrodel told in far finer voices than yours."
"You have not!" Legolsa sputtered indignantly. "You could never heard the song before I sang it, for your face was as entranced as the hobbits'!"
"But perhaps I've heard it since then." Aracorn countered jovilly. "Perhaps I found an Elf in Lorien who knew all the tale, not tantalizing bits and fragments. You wouldn't know. You were hardly with us in the Golden Wood."
"I think I can be excused for that." Legolas laughed. "Even an Elf needs a breath of air sometimes. And I couldn't call the air around you breathable." Still laughing, he tugged at a strand of Aragon's hair. "Have you even bathed since Rivendell?"
"Someone had to go and actually fight, instead of shooting little arrows at orcs from a distance!"
"And did Anduril slay the Fell Beast?"
They both calmed, aware now of the silence of the city.
"You know," Legolas said, "I think I can remember a bit more of the tale of Nimrodel. And Amroth and how he still waits for her-"
"And I think," Aragorn offered, "That I could likely manage a bath tonight, if someone will stop talking."
"Oh." Legolas was quiet for a moment, but as they went up to the hall he said, "You know, Pippin has the funniest song he was singing in the Halls of Healing to cheer Merry up, but it's about baths...I'm trying to remember how it goes." He tried a few lines. "Sing hey! For the bath at the close of the day, that washes the weary mud away. A loon is he that will not sing-"
Aragorn, recognizing the song, joined in. "O! Water hot is a noble thing!"
They went up to the palace, filling the darkened streets with their laughter.