Title: Without Words (1/1)
Author: Isys (ff_isys@yahoo.com)
Rating: PG
Genre/s: implied slash, semi-AU, angst
Pairing: Aragorn/Legolas
Summary: A short interlude set in RotK, before Aragorn and his ships arrive at Minas Tirith from the river Pelargir. The cry of a gull is perilous to the ears of Elves...
Disclaimer: The Lord of the Rings is the property of J.R.R. Tolkien, including all characters, names, and concepts herein. No copyright or trademark infringement is intended. This story is purely for entertainment purposes only.
AN: I intended this to be nothing more than a little friendship fic, but read it however you wish. Based purely on the book.
* * *
"Legolas Greenleaf long under tree
In joy thou hast lived. Beware of the Sea!
If thou hearest the cry of the gull on the shore,
Thy heart shall then rest in the forest no more."
-- The Two Towers
No sound was to be heard save for the swift flow of water against the sides of the ships. The river of Anduin stretched clear behind them, snaking to the horizon even past Elvish eyes. And before them, growing with every passing second, the great tower of Minas Tirith loomed as they approached. Aragorn's grip on the side of the ship was tight and, despite the numbers he had amassed at his command since taking the Paths of the Dead, he could not deny the imminent danger ahead.
Then the silence died, for far out into the sun were white birds, their wings silhouetted against the bright light where the darkness of war in the East had yet failed to reach them. Beautiful white birds, their calls punctuating each rush of sea on sand as they circled high above, never wavering in the sure speed of their flight.
Aragorn breathed in deeply, momentarily forgetting the perils of the battle to come. Long times had passed since he last heard the cry of seabirds, back when the war was yet to be heard of.
Next to him Legolas was no less captivated; his hand was loose upon his bow and his gaze far away, to the West where the lands of Middle-Earth ended and the Sea began. A soft sigh escaped his lips and then a song, one dear to the Elves, of the sea and the blessed realm beyond. His voice was laden with a profound, almost sorrowful yearning even as the enchanting melody of the song wove through their hearts.
"She spoke the truth," he said quietly after his voice faltered. "I had only to hear their cry and already they trouble my heart; as though even the fairest trees in the woods of the evergreen have paled next to the Sea…"
Aragorn could remember - Legolas spoke of Galadriel's warning, which Gandalf had delivered what seemed like years past. And with that memory came a worse, more terrible realization that it struck deep within. Something Elrond had told him long ago - that for Elves, the sea-yearning slumbered within but, once stirred, could never be appeased.
A sudden dread seized him from inside as he met Legolas' eyes, for they held a gaze far, far away, almost beyond the reached of the world they stood upon. And when Legolas finally looked from the gulls back to the land about them, his eyes were pale with weariness, and the hope that Aragorn had always admired was faded. Legolas had been his constant comfort when the threat of war had cast a veil of despair over his eyes, and he could not consider losing him.
Overcome with an unquenchable fear, Aragorn held him by the shoulders and looked into his eyes.
"Legolas, mellon-nin, do not do this," he said, almost desperately. "This darkness is not eternal - soon it will lift, and will be as beautiful as the Sea you dream of."
The elf's reply was little more than a whisper. "In the folly of the present what you speak of is so difficult to see..."
"Then please stay," Aragorn pleaded, taking the elf's hands in his own and holding them, as though fearing Legolas would leave forever if he let them go. His hands were cold, like that of a stranger, that the upcoming battle now seemed trivial. "Please, Legolas. If not for Middle-Earth, if not for Gondor, please stay... for me."
And at those words, Legolas' eyes became suddenly clear, burning with a new light, as though Aragorn's plea had enkindled the fire within him that the sound of the Sea had smothered to sleep. On his lips formed a slight smile, and Aragorn's heart, weighed down by the thought of losing his brother, lightened considerably. But something still continued to burden his thoughts.
"Would you have left me?" Aragorn found himself asking, almost afraid to hear what Legolas would say.
Legolas only smiled.
* * *
So he stayed - through the war, through the blossoming years of Men... until their king was all but a likeness in the cold touch of death.
And it was so much like stone - bereft of both warmth and cold, strength and weakness. No sadness nor peace.
No life. The wind whistled through the air about them, past the silent bed, and Legolas' face, drying the tears outside. Only outside.
Legolas' eyes sought the face of Aragorn once more, the memory of his image carved into his mind deeper than the words on the stone itself. For it was for Aragorn's life that he had remained on the shores of Middle-Earth for so long. He had watched Gondor rebuild itself and the city flourish. He had brought south the Elves to Ithilien and lent their beauty to the land
For his friend, for his brother... and for his king who now lay forever silent. And suddenly, Legolas remembered that he had never answered Aragorn's question before, right before they had reached Minas Tirith for battle.
In spite of his grief, a slight smile found its way on Legolas' face. It was time to leave; he had forsaken his desire to sail away to the Sea long enough.
After all, Aragorn already had his answer.
END