Warning: As you probably have realized by now, this story contains slash, so please hit the back button now in case you disapprove.
Disclaimer: Obviously, the universe and the characters belong to Tolkien and I am only borrowing them for fun.
A/N: Thanks a lot for your reviews, they made me very, very happy! I corrected the mistake in the first chapter you pointed out, babschwi, thank you! Well then, on with the story :)
Aragorn and Legolas left for Esgaroth already the next day. It was not the first time for them to travel together, for they had travelled from Rivendell to Mirkwood or the other way round together a number of times, but more often – and especially in recent years – one of them had to farewell the other one who was leaving, making departing together a welcome change.
They had about a weeks' travel before them and the days passed peacefully and untroubled by attacks of orcs or other foul creatures, allowing both of them to get used to each other again.
Aragorn felt slightly apprehensive about taking Legolas to Esgaroth, even if he did his best to hide his feelings. He remembered very well the first time he had travelled to a dwelling of men in the company of his foster brothers and the disgust he had felt about the dirt, the lack of grace and the sometimes crude and, as he felt, undignified forms of living in comparison to fair Rivendell. He had finally come to accept men as they were and also that he was one of them. This had, however, taken him some time and he wondered how Legolas would take it.
Still, Legolas' lack of familiarity with the world of men worried him even more, as he felt how deeply this impacted their relationship. He supposed that Legolas felt the same as he had expressed the wish to see a dwelling of men once in a letter in the past year. Therefore, he had decided that it would be best to take him along to Esgaroth if his father allowed, for the people of this city were quite familiar with elves already and would hopefully not react too strongly to seeing his elven companion, compared to other dwellings of men.
What worried him as well was that folk there did not approve of relationships between two males and he had relayed this to Legolas, cautioning him about taking his hand or kissing him in public, even though this was also not acceptable among the elves for unmarried couples and therefore highly unlikely. Legolas had seemed very much taken aback, as no such prejudice existed in the elven society, and also deeply troubled.
"Are you sure this is the right way?" Legolas asked who had watched Aragorn growing more and more uneasy over the past hours.
"Yes, you forget I am a ranger. I do not lose my way." Aragorn replied gruffly, startled out of his thoughts.
"I may not be a ranger, but an elf and I am quite sure that I have greeted this tree over there already three times. He is wondering what we are doing." Legolas said, trying to suppress the mirth in his voice. He knew that Aragorn had travelled to Esgaroth only once before and he did not find any shame in wondering about the right direction. "It will soon grow dark, let us rest and continue our way in the morning," he suggested gently. "I will climb a tree and look out for our way."
Aragorn gave in and he climbed the tree swiftly, and reaching the tree top, he distantly was able to make out a dwelling. He supposed that it should take them a good day's ride to reach it.
He climbed back down, finding that Aragorn had already started a fire. He was sitting in front of it silently. Darkness was falling fast and his face was lying in deep shadows, partly alighted by the fire. Legolas knelt down behind him, placing his hands on Aragorn's broad shoulders and working to ease his tense muscles with deft hands. He knew how much Aragorn enjoyed this and hoped to lighten up the mood a little, as he – and judging by his conduct, Aragorn as well – had a strange feeling of foreboding.
Finally he leaned forward, embracing Aragorn gently from behind.
"Thank you," Aragorn murmured, turning and pulling Legolas in an almost bone crashing embrace. Then he continued silently, his face buried in Legolas' hair: "You were right."
"About what?" Legolas replied, withholding a smile. He knew quite well what Aragorn was referring to. "You were right about the way. I was not paying proper attention and had lost it. I am sorry."
"Well then, you shall be punished for lying," Legolas said in his most serious voice, while his hands travelled down Aragorn's waist as light as a feather.
Aragorn gasped, only barely holding back a cry of surprise as Legolas began to tickle him mercilessly. The tickling quickly turned into wrestling, each one of them trying to get the upper hand. Finally Legolas found himself pinned to the ground, both of them out of breath and laughing.
He considered taking up the fight once more – while they were well matched in strength and Aragorn's additional weight worked to his advantage, he also tired more easily – but then he was distracted when he caught the look in Aragorn's face, who was gazing down at him tenderly. Aragorn bent down and kissed Legolas gently, who returned the quickly deepening kiss, welcoming Aragorn into his embrace, all thoughts of winning the fight forgotten.
Drawing closer to the city of Esgaroth, Legolas regarded the large dwelling with surprise. While Rivendell and Mirkwood were two of the three largest elven dwellings still left in Middle Earth, this city of men was at least comparable in size and he had a feeling that it was not the only one. Never before had he felt so strongly that the age of elves was coming to an end and the age of men was dawning. He felt Aragorn's eyes resting on him.
"It is quite a big city, is it not?" Legolas asked, wondering whether Aragorn felt the same.
"Yes, it is one of the bigger cities, but you have not seen Gondor yet." So Esgaroth was not even the biggest one, Legolas marveled.
Then his attention was drawn to something else. "Is it common for Men to live upon the water?" Legolas asked, referring to the way the wooden city was built upon pillars in the lake.
Aragorn pondered this. "No, I think this is the only dwelling build on water. I think it makes them feel safe. The city even has been rebuilt upon the water after it was burned down by Smaug."
Feel safe on the water, what a foreign idea that was indeed, thought Legolas. He felt safest when he was sitting in a tree, "Do you also feel safe on water?" he inquired, suddenly curious.
Aragorn laughed. "No, I can assure you, I rather stand on steady ground. And I would also prefer living in a tree to living on top of the water." He added slyly, clearly having guessed Legolas' thoughts. Legolas laughed, feeling content that Aragorn knew him so well, and they rode on.
The sun was already low when they reached the city.
Aragorn asked an old man who was sitting in front of his house, enjoying the last rays of sunlight, whether he could point them to the closest inn and the man gave them directions to a small inn in a nearby street. "If you're not afraid of ghosts, that is, young masters," he said laughing good-naturedly. "Folk say the house is haunted and they've trouble finding guests. I can also point you to a different inn, further in town, there are many of them."
Aragorn laughed. He felt sure that this was only superstitious talk. "This is alright, thank you very much. We are not afraid of ghosts."
When they rode on Legolas turned to him, smiling slightly: "No indeed, the ghosts of men hold no fear for me. But what about you?"
"Do you honestly believe that we will encounter ghosts there?" he replied surprised.
"Most superstitions are rooted in truth, are they not? I believe we will encounter something and I am most curious what it is."
After a while, they reached the inn, which from the outside did not look like a haunted house at all – but after all the city had recently been rebuilt and there were few old-looking houses to be found. They dismounted and left their horses outside at first, entering to inquire whether there was still some room left in the inn.
"Good evening, young masters, how can I help you?" the inn keeper inquired.
"We are looking for a room for the night." Aragorn replied.
"Yes, of course, there's…" the inn keeper broke off, his expression changing from friendliness to fear, as he watched Legolas apprehensively. Legolas had taken off the hood he had been wearing since they had entered the town on Aragorn's recommendation in order not to draw too much unwanted attention to him, and was looking around curiously.
"I'm afraid there's only one room with a double bed left, master, I suppose this wouldn't suffice for you and your companion?" the inn keeper continued, sounding quite hopeful.
"It is already late and we would be grateful if you would let us stay for the night", Aragorn replied, frowning slightly upon the way the man behaved towards his elven companion. Clearly unwilling, but realizing that he could not very well turn them away, the man showed them to their room and indicated the way to the stable. He told them grudgingly that they could get some water downstairs in case they were thirsty in the night and inquired whether they wanted to take their dinner upstairs or downstairs.
They took their dinner downstairs, hoping to get a picture of the people in town; however, the lack of other guests made them feel clearly that the man had lied to them. Their room most certainly was not the only one empty.
And while Aragorn was quite pleased at how easily they had gotten a shared room – he had already thought of several ways to explain why they would want only one room – he felt uneasy about the hostile way Legolas had been greeted. It was important to him that Legolas felt welcome into the world of men and this was not a good start. He was feeling tired, the long day was getting to him and they called an early night.
In the middle of the night Legolas opened his eyes, feeling wide awake. Next to him, Aragorn was fast asleep. His sharp hearing picked up the sounds of the wooden house, wood worms working in the walls. Everyone in the house seemed to be asleep.
He had never experienced anything alike, the elven dwellings of Mirkwood and Rivendell being throughout the night alive with song and laughter of the elves who needed much less and a different kind of sleep than mortals did. While travelling, there was always need for a watch, neither allowing nor requiring one to sleep through a complete night. And of course, there was always the possibility of communicating with nature. Now, however, he was slightly at a loss.
He got up silently, careful not to wake Aragorn and stood at the window, gazing outside. The houses and streets made of dead wood and stone, surrounded by water, offered little comfort and he decided to go downstairs and get himself some water, remembering the offer of their host.
He was barefoot and only wearing his white sleeping shirt, which reached over his knees, his hair was unbraided and flowing freely down his back, but he was certain that no one was awake and he would encounter no one. Aragorn had laughed when he had seen that he had brought clothes to sleep in, himself preferring to simply sleep in his leggings he also wore during the day, but Legolas, while content to sleep in the clothes he wore at daytime when travelling, could see no reason to continue the uncomfortable habit when he did not need to anticipate having to pack his things and flee any moment as he had to in the wilderness.
He silently left the room and descended the stairs, his bare feet making no sound on the wooden floor. He located the small sitting room the inn keeper had indicated where a fire was burning low during the night. He had brought no candle, his elven sight enabling him to see through the darkness, so that his eyes had to adjust for a moment when he entered the room in which the fire burned.
In this moment a scream sounded, ringing in his ears. It probably did not sound too loud to human ears, though, as there were no movements to be heard upstairs, indicating that no one had woken. He turned, trying to locate the sound and was astonished when he found an old women sitting in a rocking chair close to the door. She stared at him in horror.
Cautiously, he approached her, saying: "Grandmother, I apologize if I startled you, I merely came to get a drink of water as our host suggested so kindly last night."
She blinked and stuttered, still clearly frightened: "But…you're not…her?" She reached out for his hand tentatively and after touching it lightly, gripped his hand tightly.
"Grandmother, please calm down, I am not who you seem to believe me to be. I am an Elf", he replied, surprised at her strange behavior.
"But so was she, so was she, Master Elf," the old women answered, suddenly cackling madly.
"Who is she?" he asked, an uncanny feeling gripping him. But the old women did not reply. For a moment he was afraid that she might be dead, but then he realized that she was snoring softly, her head nodding to the side. She was still gripping his hand. He carefully detached himself, feeling her wrinkled skin which felt almost like paper to his touch.
Suddenly he was reminded of how every time he and Aragorn met again after a period of separation, he noticed the small wrinkles which had engraved themselves in the meanwhile on Aragorn's skin, like small messengers of death and a completely irrational fear told hold of him that he would find Aragorn like this upon his return, withered or even dead.
Quickly he left the room again and went upstairs, as silently as he had come. He entered their room and found Aragorn still fast asleep, looking just as he always did. He lay down again next to him and Aragorn, feeling his presence, took his hand without waking and pulled him close. Listening to Aragorn's deep, regular breathing, he calmed down and finally was lulled into a light slumber. He did not notice the white figure standing at the window, watching the pair all night.