Not A Word
Disclaimer: LOTR does not belong to me.
Aragorn tapped the tip of the quill against his - for once - clear desk. It must have been nearing three o' clock in the morning, and the king of Gondor was exhausted. He sat back in his chair, heaving a great sigh that swelled in his chest and was released with a great burst of air.
Scratching his hair in an unkingly manner, he leaned against his armrest and took up a letter that had come for him earlier, bearing the insignia of his old friend, Legolas. He felt the fine parchment beneath his weathered hands as his face split into his easy smile. He broke the delicate seal and took out the fine paper from the package. Skimming the fine words, which contained an account of his trip to the glittering caves with Gimli.
The easy smile still on his face, he couldn't help but remember the old days of fellowship. As he read the letter further, his grin widened until it looked like his face would split in two. Legolas relayed an account of which reminded Aragorn of times long past. The elf complained about having to go under ground for such large amounts of time, but the King of Gondor knew that Legolas was no longer so bothered by being under the ground as he had once been.
It always helped the wood elf when the light hearted dwarf was nearby to make his own heart light. Turning back to the letter, he found himself laughing out loud. He had missed a true adventure indeed. It spoke of how Gimli had tried to play a cruel joke on Legolas, but had ended up short-changed. Aragorn wished the elf would go into detail with his letters, but he knew them well enough to know that he would hear the full account from them on their next meeting.
Legolas had finished the letter with the usual well wishes and greetings to the rest of the Royal house and stated that he would be kept prisoner in the caves long enough for Aragorn to send a reply.
Estel put the letter back on the desk and lit his pipe, staring into the great fire in the hearth before him. He allowed himself a moment of relaxation before he headed off to bed, where Arwen awaited him - probably somewhat impatient at his late coming this night. He deftly heard the caller cry out three in the morning, as he had immersed himself in happy memories.
He remembered Helm's deep, and although the memory was all together unfavorable, the time the dwarf allowed himself to be tossed was filling his mind with amusement.
"'Don't tell the elf,"' Gimli had stated.
"'Not a word."' Aragorn had promised.
He had kept his word of
course. He smiled as he remembered a similar time with the elf, in
Pelennor Fields.
It had happened not long after Legolas had
singlehandedly taken out one of the Mumakil. Gimli had moved ahead,
hacking and slashing his way through the Orcs of Mordor.
Legolas was, as everyone knew, extremely surefooted, rarely making a mistake of any kind in his footwork - if ever at all. Only by chance had Aragorn been able to see the elf's mishap.
Legolas had just used his last arrows on some extremely unfortunate orcs. Slashing an Orc across the face with one of his ivory knives, he had moved onto the next victim with the usual grace.
Suddenly an orc had slammed into him from behind, sending the elf staggering. He tripped over the body of a slain orc, and ungracefully he and the orc went down to the ground.
Aragorn dashed to assist the elf, but was held up by his own problem. Legolas and the orc scuffled for a moment, then the elf cracked the orcs neck and regained his feet, hardly the worse for wear.
Legolas stated later, indignantly, that the scene that only Aragorn saw take place next was simply because the orc had slammed his head against a shield, but whatever the case was, it was, in all the years that Aragorn knew Legolas, a definite fall from grace.
One moment, the elf had been standing, the next, he stumbled against some overlooked object and fell to the ground with a dull thump. To make matters worse, when he had reached the elf, he found his friend yanking out a broken knife from his side. Legolas glared up at Aragorn, his blue eyes icy. "You will not speak of this with anyone."
Aragorn held out his hand and helped his friend up. "You have my word, mellon nin."
After he had wounded himself, Legolas had acted like it never happened, insisting on caring for the gash himself, and never drawing attention to it at all. Aragorn wondered if it had created a scar to remind the elf of his fall from grace.
With a smile, Aragorn decided that both of his friends would have such wounded pride if he hadn't been there to keep it intact for them. He was a man of his word, and his friends must thank the gods every passing day for it.
He looked up at the light touch on his shoulder. "Meleth nin, come to bed," Arwen said gently, her eyes dancing, almost as though she knew of his joy. "It is late." She took his hand and pulled him to his feet. "Join me, my king." Speaking to him softly, she led him to bed, as he left behind the secrets of his friends again to memory, joining his queen.
-END-
One
of the chief inspirations for this was the way that Legolas was
standing in the third movie, in Gondor, when they were speaking of a
diversion. It expanded, and formed this one-shot. Elvish
Translations: mellon nin - my friend meleth nin - my
love Estel - Elvish word for hope, the name Elrond gave to
Aragorn. Other Translations: Mumakil - another word
for Oliphant Elessar - The name of the king of Gondor,
another name for Aragorn.
Please let me
know what you think. This is my first Lord of the Rings fanfic in
quite a few years, so I am aware that I'm very rusty.