Happy Birthday, Carol! This fic is for you! You're a wonderful person and I love you! You rock, woman!
Author: Estelrond
Title: Freedom to Laugh
Summary: A woodland chase, and a bit of philosophy for our favorite elf and ranger.
Rating: G
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I hunt.
It is not the first time I have sought this particular quarry, and I am sure it will not be the last. And every time I am more challenged by the cunning of my opponent. In the forest, both he and I are at home. The wilds sparking something untamable and somewhat childlike impulse within us, as if nature itself is inviting us to play.
I have been hunting for several hours, with barely a hint of my quarry's presence. Then, a rustle of leaves when there is no wind…a flash of brown…and the chase is on.
I move swiftly and silently, unlike the younger, and clumsier, object of my pursuit. Catching another glimpse of brown, I take to the trees. They are my natural environment, and they guide and support me, seeming themselves to chuckle mirthfully at our antics. And, despite the need for stealth, I want to laugh with them.
I feel the breeze in my hair and the branches tease my long tresses but do not tangle as I leap from tree to tree.
My quarry stops, confused as he senses that I am no longer behind him. Little does he know that I am directly above. I can see his chest heaving as he takes in great gulps of air. I know that if I do not catch him here, I will overtake him again, as he tires.
But there is no need. Leaping from my perch I bowl him over and pin his arms above his head.
"I win!" and I laugh, finally, and at length.
He glares at me as I release his hands and roll over onto my back, the soft earth beneath me seeming very welcoming after my long chase.
"You always win, Legolas." He complains, "Even if I'm chasing you!"
I laugh again, "But I like to win, Strider, after all, that is the point of the game." For some reason, this amuses me and I start to chuckle again.
Aragorn grabs a handful of grass and tosses it over my head, sprinkling me liberally with small green shoots. "You're daft, elf!"
Sighing heavily, I roll over, propping myself up with one elbow, I give my friend the most mournful expression I can muster, "I know…life wouldn't be much fun otherwise…" I feel the giggles coming again…
This time my friend laughed right along with me. "Why can't everyday be like this, Legolas?" he asks, gazing up at the sunlight filtering through the green canopy above us.
My laughter fades away as I consider that thought…why not? Why can't everyday be peaceful, fun, and uninterrupted by pain or sorrow? And I realize, though I've never truly thought about it before, that the answers are all too clear.
"Because of the imperfection in our world, mellon-nin. From the first time Morgoth set his hand to Arda there has been evil in Middle-Earth. Now, despite this we could spend everyday in this carefree manner…but it would only last so long, because evil would eventually overwhelm us." I met the ranger's eyes, which looked like storm clouds as he pondered my words, "We cannot spend our lives oblivious to the world. We fight because we must. We fight so we can have days like this one, and so that someday, evil will be cleansed and everyone will be allowed to enjoy a chase through a peaceful country and feel lighthearted enough to laugh."
I waited for an answer as I studied my friend's face. He seemed intense, serious…finally the clouds drifted from his eyes to be replaced by a familiar gleam. "Even if they're laughing for no reason?" He smirked at me as he said it.
I couldn't help it, I laughed, "Even if, Aragorn, even if!"
He cuffed me playfully, "Come on, Legolas, they'll be worried if we don't get back." As we trudged homeward, he put his arm around my shoulder companionably, and began to laugh. I of course, joined in. There were no explanations, and no reason for our mirth save friendship and camaraderie. And I knew that in a turbulent world, there was one mainstay. That was my friends…they could always be counted on. And the ranger at my side, no matter what we faced, would always be my companion and brother.
Gold, gems and mithril,
Though precious they may be,
I hope you'll always know,
You're far more valuable to me.
Finis
Much love, Carol! You're so sweet!