It Snows When I See Him Smile
By Windy McDohl
Disclaimer: All characters portrayed here belong to J.R.R. Tolkien, and the fanfiction belongs to me. This is a gift to my good friend, for helping me keep my site and not killing me for destroying his book some time ago (I hope he understands how I feel). SO, don't take it, okay? Please?
Warning: This piece contains slash. I'm still relatively new to this slash thing, but it's funny enough for me to like it. Oh, please do not proceed if you don't like slash. No point suing me. I'm a poor guy, and my dog's eating me to poverty…
Note: I don't usually write this pair… Uh, BUT, I think it's okay. I never seem to write normal pairings, sigh… However, since Alex likes this… Oh, well. Hope you're not mad at me!
_______________________________
It was snowing again, so pretty it was! The land beneath my feet felt like cool powder, the snow, it painted the ground so white, a glorious white it was! In my entire life I've not seen much snow; altogether, it felt fantastically refreshing to me, as it provided a different scene than the green lush forests I've been accustomed to. Not that I did not like my homeland or the landscapes there, but this was truly something very appealing to my elven heart.
It is as appealing as he is to me, though in many ways, far easier to confront than this son of a man that now stands beside me…
His smile, rarely seen, could easily melt my anger and sadness compared to the many beautiful things that I have seen in my long years. I've dwelt upon that, truly I have, but of what good will it do me, other than to calm my soul and give it tranquility when it hurts most?
I can only imagine a life with him, but apart from him, however, where will that take me?
Where would I be?
And what would he say?
Dreams do not bring us far; they seek only to tear us down, to strip us of our happiness, and to drown our hope in its sea of despair.
He is a man, I am not; he is the same as I in gender, and he likes another. I cannot compare with her - she is one too fair, not too proud, and she will bring him so much contentment.
I sigh of thunder, my tears are of fire; tell me, does love really hurt so much?
Again he walks, ahead of us all. He had the looks of the wild, the carefree, and yet his seriousness brought him his deserved respect. His dark hair, nearly pitch black, seemed to embrace the wind, calling to me in his foreign language, promising me of adventure, and romance in a land far, far away. His face, with bristly stubble on it around his chin, makes my mind wander, to reaches where the stars are littered…
But why? Why daydream me so?
_______________________________
"Legolas!" a voice jolted the elf back to reality. He looked up, snapping out of his thoughts, to where Aragorn stood ahead. The tall, tanned, handsome man of a Ranger seemed to be drinking out of the elf's gaze, which made Legolas feel uncomfortable. However, the elf carefully collected his wits together again, and struggled to find his tongue.
"Yes?" he finally found the word that he had been groping for. The Ranger stared at him curiously before managing a grim smile again.
"You're lagging behind, Legolas. Be careful, otherwise you might get into a spot of trouble."
The elf nodded quickly, and made haste to where the company was, far to the front. Aragorn observed Legolas a little while more before shaking his head. He had noticed the slight difference in the elf for the past few days… Something was bothering Legolas, and knowing the elf; he would most probably keep everything to himself again.
Silently, Aragorn made a small mental note to approach the elf to find out what the matter was.
_______________________________
They had traveled far. The snow was now falling thickly, and the ground was covered with a solid layer of the fine white powder. The color blinded the company - around them was a vast plain, full of nothing but the fair, brilliant colors of ice and snow save for a few evergreen pine trees scattered here and there.
At last they reached a crag in the mountain, and proceeded to set camp there. The little ones seemed perpetually pleased at the notion, and soon they had a cheerful fire burning, and meat roasting over it. Legolas, however, stayed a little further away from the company. They did not seem to mind the least, though. The elf was usually quiet and reserved, and he wandered off by himself most of the time. He was very kind most of the time, and even bickered with the strong-headed dwarf, but he was, still, the type of person who never made many friends.
Legolas shivered slightly for it was cold. His clothes weren't really made to withstand such harsh weather, and he was a little too far away from the blaze to keep warm enough. His mind roamed away from the campsite and the noise it made, admiring the soft, silent snowflakes that were floating down gently from the heavens. He remembered the other elves who traveled out of Mirkwood describe the snowfall to him. They too, thought the world of it, they called it the gift from the fairies.
He looked upon one he had caught with his palm closely, and saw the intrinsic designs on the snowflake. It looked like a crystal, with six sides, prettily shaped and formed to what he could call perfection. No elven craftsman, however skilled he was, could craft out something so delicately fine a work of art than what nature could.
"Come, sit by the fire," a voice invited him from behind. Legolas turned around to face the man, Aragorn, whom he had been thinking of just then.
He managed a polite smile, but only that. Somehow, Legolas did not feel like smiling too much then.
"Thank you," he said, in his native tongue. He knew well that Aragorn could understand that language well. The man smiled back, no longer grimly, but more pleasantly than he ever did, at the elf.
Legolas felt his heart skip a beat.
Aragorn smiled… at him?
It felt very unreal to the elf. The son of a man, the son of a king, who had hardly noticed him too much in the first place, smiled at him? It was just a polite smile, he reasoned. After all, it was a leader's job to keep his team in high spirits, was it not? Though Legolas wanted otherwise, he was faced with the fact that he had to keep on the realistic side of things.
"Look now, Legolas," Aragorn began, also in Elvish; "Something seems to be troubling you so, as I have noticed you breaking away further from the company. Please tell me what it is, and I shall try to solve it for you. I can't have anyone not working with the others, as you can perceive."
Legolas hesitated. He wasn't too sure about this… it wouldn't be all right to tell Aragorn what he felt, would it?
"It's all right, my friend," Aragorn urged him kindly. "Your secret is safe with me. All I am trying to do is to help you… in whatever you have worrying you so."
"I… I'm afraid that it is much more complex than that," Legolas was vexed. Aragorn was the root of his worries, but how was he going to tell him that?
"That is more the reason why you have to share this with us, Legolas," Aragorn perceived. "You cannot handle everything yourself. We are your friends, and we do want the best for the company. So, please… Tell me. It is safe here, in my heart."
"It worries me…"
"What does?"
"You."
"Me?" Aragorn lifted a brow. "Why? Did I do something to wrong you?"
"No," Legolas swallowed hard. He found it hard to continue. "Yet you are the root of my worries… All of which my heart speaks of, I cannot say, but it says, it says… it says of adoration, that I feel for another… and that other is no other than you."
"You view me as an idol, then?" Aragorn seemed mildly amused. "I tell you now, my friend, that I am no deity, no god. I am a man, equal to you."
"You don't understand!" Legolas was now frustrated. He had been suffering of this far too long for him to think coherently now, at this point. 'I view you not as an idol, though I do worship you! I feel… my heart leap for joy when you smile, when you speak and when you lay your eyes on me… You know what I feel, you are not naïve, though young…"
Realization hit Aragorn like a tidal wave. So, the elf was in love with him?
Legolas stared at Aragorn, slightly detached, full of horror. What had he done?
Aragorn looked at the elf, now filled with pity. He felt nothing for the elf, delicate as he was, young looking and courteous as he brought himself about. In his heart and mind there was only Lady Arwen, and no other, elf or not. He shook his head slightly, regarding Legolas in his usual, scrutinizing way, finding the right words to say.
And at last he found it.
"Legolas," the name was a mere breath on his lips. The elf looked up expectantly, but soon his hopes faltered back when he saw the grim expression writer all over the Ranger's face. He was about to be rejected…
"Forgive me, but my Lady is the soul of my heart, and no other can replace her…"
The elf nodded dumbly, saying nothing. It nearly broke Aragorn's heart to see his merry friend look so depressed, but this was life. This was reality. It is a fact, whether Legolas could accept it or not.
"I hope you will understand…"
"I do. I understand."
Aragorn nodded slowly, and turned back to the general direction of the campsite. Soon he rejoined the laughing group of people, leaving the elf behind to reflect on the words he had uttered.
Alone he stood, watching the snow float down from the heavens. They replied not his whispered questions of dismay; they heeded not the hot tears that now threatened to spill from his flecked green elven eyes.
It never snowed more thickly on any day other than that. And it never would, penchance only when the man would ever smile at the poor elf again.
_______________________________
The End
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Note: Gosh! 0_o I wonder if I should make a sequel? It was short… Gah. I'm horrible at sap stories, anyway.
By Windy McDohl
Disclaimer: All characters portrayed here belong to J.R.R. Tolkien, and the fanfiction belongs to me. This is a gift to my good friend, for helping me keep my site and not killing me for destroying his book some time ago (I hope he understands how I feel). SO, don't take it, okay? Please?
Warning: This piece contains slash. I'm still relatively new to this slash thing, but it's funny enough for me to like it. Oh, please do not proceed if you don't like slash. No point suing me. I'm a poor guy, and my dog's eating me to poverty…
Note: I don't usually write this pair… Uh, BUT, I think it's okay. I never seem to write normal pairings, sigh… However, since Alex likes this… Oh, well. Hope you're not mad at me!
_______________________________
It was snowing again, so pretty it was! The land beneath my feet felt like cool powder, the snow, it painted the ground so white, a glorious white it was! In my entire life I've not seen much snow; altogether, it felt fantastically refreshing to me, as it provided a different scene than the green lush forests I've been accustomed to. Not that I did not like my homeland or the landscapes there, but this was truly something very appealing to my elven heart.
It is as appealing as he is to me, though in many ways, far easier to confront than this son of a man that now stands beside me…
His smile, rarely seen, could easily melt my anger and sadness compared to the many beautiful things that I have seen in my long years. I've dwelt upon that, truly I have, but of what good will it do me, other than to calm my soul and give it tranquility when it hurts most?
I can only imagine a life with him, but apart from him, however, where will that take me?
Where would I be?
And what would he say?
Dreams do not bring us far; they seek only to tear us down, to strip us of our happiness, and to drown our hope in its sea of despair.
He is a man, I am not; he is the same as I in gender, and he likes another. I cannot compare with her - she is one too fair, not too proud, and she will bring him so much contentment.
I sigh of thunder, my tears are of fire; tell me, does love really hurt so much?
Again he walks, ahead of us all. He had the looks of the wild, the carefree, and yet his seriousness brought him his deserved respect. His dark hair, nearly pitch black, seemed to embrace the wind, calling to me in his foreign language, promising me of adventure, and romance in a land far, far away. His face, with bristly stubble on it around his chin, makes my mind wander, to reaches where the stars are littered…
But why? Why daydream me so?
_______________________________
"Legolas!" a voice jolted the elf back to reality. He looked up, snapping out of his thoughts, to where Aragorn stood ahead. The tall, tanned, handsome man of a Ranger seemed to be drinking out of the elf's gaze, which made Legolas feel uncomfortable. However, the elf carefully collected his wits together again, and struggled to find his tongue.
"Yes?" he finally found the word that he had been groping for. The Ranger stared at him curiously before managing a grim smile again.
"You're lagging behind, Legolas. Be careful, otherwise you might get into a spot of trouble."
The elf nodded quickly, and made haste to where the company was, far to the front. Aragorn observed Legolas a little while more before shaking his head. He had noticed the slight difference in the elf for the past few days… Something was bothering Legolas, and knowing the elf; he would most probably keep everything to himself again.
Silently, Aragorn made a small mental note to approach the elf to find out what the matter was.
_______________________________
They had traveled far. The snow was now falling thickly, and the ground was covered with a solid layer of the fine white powder. The color blinded the company - around them was a vast plain, full of nothing but the fair, brilliant colors of ice and snow save for a few evergreen pine trees scattered here and there.
At last they reached a crag in the mountain, and proceeded to set camp there. The little ones seemed perpetually pleased at the notion, and soon they had a cheerful fire burning, and meat roasting over it. Legolas, however, stayed a little further away from the company. They did not seem to mind the least, though. The elf was usually quiet and reserved, and he wandered off by himself most of the time. He was very kind most of the time, and even bickered with the strong-headed dwarf, but he was, still, the type of person who never made many friends.
Legolas shivered slightly for it was cold. His clothes weren't really made to withstand such harsh weather, and he was a little too far away from the blaze to keep warm enough. His mind roamed away from the campsite and the noise it made, admiring the soft, silent snowflakes that were floating down gently from the heavens. He remembered the other elves who traveled out of Mirkwood describe the snowfall to him. They too, thought the world of it, they called it the gift from the fairies.
He looked upon one he had caught with his palm closely, and saw the intrinsic designs on the snowflake. It looked like a crystal, with six sides, prettily shaped and formed to what he could call perfection. No elven craftsman, however skilled he was, could craft out something so delicately fine a work of art than what nature could.
"Come, sit by the fire," a voice invited him from behind. Legolas turned around to face the man, Aragorn, whom he had been thinking of just then.
He managed a polite smile, but only that. Somehow, Legolas did not feel like smiling too much then.
"Thank you," he said, in his native tongue. He knew well that Aragorn could understand that language well. The man smiled back, no longer grimly, but more pleasantly than he ever did, at the elf.
Legolas felt his heart skip a beat.
Aragorn smiled… at him?
It felt very unreal to the elf. The son of a man, the son of a king, who had hardly noticed him too much in the first place, smiled at him? It was just a polite smile, he reasoned. After all, it was a leader's job to keep his team in high spirits, was it not? Though Legolas wanted otherwise, he was faced with the fact that he had to keep on the realistic side of things.
"Look now, Legolas," Aragorn began, also in Elvish; "Something seems to be troubling you so, as I have noticed you breaking away further from the company. Please tell me what it is, and I shall try to solve it for you. I can't have anyone not working with the others, as you can perceive."
Legolas hesitated. He wasn't too sure about this… it wouldn't be all right to tell Aragorn what he felt, would it?
"It's all right, my friend," Aragorn urged him kindly. "Your secret is safe with me. All I am trying to do is to help you… in whatever you have worrying you so."
"I… I'm afraid that it is much more complex than that," Legolas was vexed. Aragorn was the root of his worries, but how was he going to tell him that?
"That is more the reason why you have to share this with us, Legolas," Aragorn perceived. "You cannot handle everything yourself. We are your friends, and we do want the best for the company. So, please… Tell me. It is safe here, in my heart."
"It worries me…"
"What does?"
"You."
"Me?" Aragorn lifted a brow. "Why? Did I do something to wrong you?"
"No," Legolas swallowed hard. He found it hard to continue. "Yet you are the root of my worries… All of which my heart speaks of, I cannot say, but it says, it says… it says of adoration, that I feel for another… and that other is no other than you."
"You view me as an idol, then?" Aragorn seemed mildly amused. "I tell you now, my friend, that I am no deity, no god. I am a man, equal to you."
"You don't understand!" Legolas was now frustrated. He had been suffering of this far too long for him to think coherently now, at this point. 'I view you not as an idol, though I do worship you! I feel… my heart leap for joy when you smile, when you speak and when you lay your eyes on me… You know what I feel, you are not naïve, though young…"
Realization hit Aragorn like a tidal wave. So, the elf was in love with him?
Legolas stared at Aragorn, slightly detached, full of horror. What had he done?
Aragorn looked at the elf, now filled with pity. He felt nothing for the elf, delicate as he was, young looking and courteous as he brought himself about. In his heart and mind there was only Lady Arwen, and no other, elf or not. He shook his head slightly, regarding Legolas in his usual, scrutinizing way, finding the right words to say.
And at last he found it.
"Legolas," the name was a mere breath on his lips. The elf looked up expectantly, but soon his hopes faltered back when he saw the grim expression writer all over the Ranger's face. He was about to be rejected…
"Forgive me, but my Lady is the soul of my heart, and no other can replace her…"
The elf nodded dumbly, saying nothing. It nearly broke Aragorn's heart to see his merry friend look so depressed, but this was life. This was reality. It is a fact, whether Legolas could accept it or not.
"I hope you will understand…"
"I do. I understand."
Aragorn nodded slowly, and turned back to the general direction of the campsite. Soon he rejoined the laughing group of people, leaving the elf behind to reflect on the words he had uttered.
Alone he stood, watching the snow float down from the heavens. They replied not his whispered questions of dismay; they heeded not the hot tears that now threatened to spill from his flecked green elven eyes.
It never snowed more thickly on any day other than that. And it never would, penchance only when the man would ever smile at the poor elf again.
_______________________________
The End
_______________________________
Note: Gosh! 0_o I wonder if I should make a sequel? It was short… Gah. I'm horrible at sap stories, anyway.