Property of JRR Tolkien. I own nothing. I wish I did, though :(

The Ranger focused his attention on his pipe, trying to block out the noise caused by the bustling occupants of the Prancing Pony. He exhaled a stream of smoke, watching it lazily spiral up toward the ceiling. His mind was fixated on the task set for him; find the creature Gollum, keep him safe, ready for questioning – and away from all evil that could befall him. He was still uncertain as to what the real reason behind this was, but he had a strong idea – which, however, remained unconfirmed by the wizard who had presented this duty to him. Gandalf the Grey was trying to protect him; he knew that – he was told the less he knew the safer he was. Yet it still made him feel weak.
Aragorn shifted slightly, as he noticed Barliman Butterbur's curious eyes focus on him. He vaguely wondered how long he would have to tarry in order for the scouts from Mirkwood to arrive. He observed the heavily inebriated Men begin to sing raucously. At that moment, the door of the inn swung open, revealing a tall Man – no, an Elf, Aragorn quickly corrected himself. The Elf seemed to emanate a glow from within. He had long golden hair, striking – like spun silk. His beauty was refreshing and entrancing to Aragorn's eye – especially after months of being surrounded by unrefined Men, the Elf was a delicacy to his eyes. He realised he was not the only one to have noticed the newcomer's arrival. The majority of the bar had gone quiet and were contemplating the Elf – Elves were generally very rare in Bree, which probably gave the Men a reason to stare so impolitely at him. Aragorn, on the other hand, who had grown up among Elves, was mortified to find himself gaping like a fool. Realising that this was probably the scout from Mirkwood, he briskly stood up and walked over to the Elf – he could feel every eye in the bar on him.
'Mae govannen,' he said upon reaching the Elf.
The Elf took in his surroundings which, Aragorn had to be honest, were somewhat squalid – and wrinkled his perfect nose in distaste. 'You are the one they call Strider?' he inquired.
'Yes, I am… And you are?'

'I am known as Legolas.'
'Elen síla lumenn' omentielvo' Aragorn replied.
The Elf's cold demeanour changed as his face broke into a smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling pleasantly. 'Ah, you are well-versed in the language of my people. That is a rare thing among Men. Something tells me you are full of surprises, Strider.'

The Ranger felt himself getting flustered. He was unsure as to how to react to something like that. Hence, stupidly, he asked the first question that sprung to his mind, 'You travelled alone, mellon-nin?' – feeling utterly incompetent, he awaited the Elf's answer.
Legolas smiled understandingly and replied, 'Some of the royal guard accompanied me, but after ensuring me safe passage to Bree, they returned to Mirkwood.'
Aragorn noticed the inn had returned to normal. However, he also noticed Butterbur was surveying the exchange between him and Legolas with narrowed eyes. 'Shall we continue this conversation up in our room?' he said meaningfully.

Legolas, looking around, nodded, 'Of course.'. As they ascended the stairs together, Legolas looked over at Aragorn and raised his eyebrows, 'Our room?'
'Oh, umm…' Aragorn blushed a crimson red, thankfully Legolas probably would not have noticed due to the low lighting. 'The innkeeper informed me earlier in the day that he has no free lodgings. However, a couple of dwarves left Bree ere you arrived, leaving a room available. Forgive me; I understand if this is an uncomfortable situation.'
'Not at all,' answered Legolas breezily, 'I was simply wondering.'
Aragorn looked at him slightly disoriented, but nodded, pretending to comprehend. When they reached the room, he produced a key and unlocked the door, and entered after Legolas, who promptly spun around and asked, 'What is your birth name?'
'Uh, what?' Aragorn replied hesitantly, 'It is supposed to be a secret, Legolas, Rangers greatly appreciate their privacy.' he said laughing, Aragorn found himself baffled by Legolas. Having being raised by Elves, he had grown accustomed to their rigidness. However, Legolas was a breath of fresh air – there was something almost childlike about him.

Legolas grinned, 'I was under the impression I would be meeting Aragorn, the one heir of Isildur who is bound to reclaim the throne of Gondor.'
Aragorn was completely astounded. 'How do you know that?'
Legolas laughed, 'My father is simply on good terms with Lord Elrond and Mithrandir, so I was told, or you could say forewarned, about you.'

Realisation dawned on Aragorn, slowly, 'And your father is –'

'– King Thranduil, yes.' replied Legolas cheerfully, 'But you and I are both royalty, so there's no need to view me any differently, mellon-nin,' he added, noticing the startled expression on Aragorn's face.
'But is it not unsafe for a prince to be taking on such a dangerous venture?'
'Well, did I not just clarify that we are both of royal descent?'
'Yes, but I am far more experienced – I have had much training for many years,'. As Aragorn said it he could see he had touched a nerve. Legolas, tugging his boots off, walked over to the bed and settled himself on one half of it.

'I am fatigued after my long journey, Aragorn, would you mind if we ended our discussion for the night?'
'Not at all, a weak Elf is not of any use to this hunt. Sleep well.'
Legolas smirked and replied, 'Good night, mellon-nin, it was a pleasure making your acquaintance,' at this, his bright blue eyes unfocused, remaining unclosed – he had fallen asleep.

Aragorn walked over to a chair, and sank into it. He concentrated on the Elf lying before him – a picture of such beauty that it pierced Aragorn's heart. He inwardly berated himself for indirectly referring to Legolas as inexperienced. Of course he wasn't, otherwise Thranduil would not have allowed his precious son to stray in the path of obvious danger. Legolas stirred slightly in his sleep and mumbled something incoherent. Aragorn's breathing hitched, although he was uncertain as to why. Unbidden in to his mind crept the image of him walking over to the Elf, leaning over him and gently brushing a soft kiss along his neck, which gave the illusion that it was created out of a pristine, white marble. He shook his head; he could scarcely believe what was going through his mind. Legolas is a male! he told himself fervently, I am a male!

Aragorn was exhausted, his head hurt to even think, but he couldn't sleep in the bed alongside Legolas – he could not trust himself enough. He had shared a bed with many males before when he had been training among the Dunedain to become a Ranger. However, Legolas was different. No, he was adamant he would not share a bed with him. Hence, there he sat and slept in the uncomfortable chair not noticing the sun rising on the little village of Bree.