disclaimers: y'all know lotr isn't mine.
a/n: thanks to those who reviewed. well, this came out fast. gawd, sparring with a friend of mine does do me good. she's my favorite sparring partner ever! uh, erm, yeah, as i was saying, this is takes place after the last chp, basically a continuation, yes, legolas is still walking.. *laughs* anyway, on to the story..

contains SLASH or male/male [aragorn/legolas]. now, go, press the back button now if you'd rather read something else.
single quotes are elvish, and italicized words are memories.

THE SLAP OF MORTALITY__________
part 2: naught but friends

The night was dark as it had been for as long as this world existed. But the fear that dawn would not come was what made the darkness of the night very much foreboding and unwanted.

Soldiers lit torches and placed them in different places, lighting the camp enough for them all. They did not dare light any more.

These days were not exactly the times when one could camp, lay back down and gaze at the stars. The velvet sky now didn't even have a single spot and sparkle of a diamond because stars had been obscured by the overwhelming darkness of the Dark Lord.

Legolas looked sorrowfully at Men who tended their wounds and more at Men lying nearly dead on bedrolls being cared for by others. If the Battle of the Pelennor Fields yielded to such destruction, he cringed to think what more would come out if they battle with Sauron's main forces head on.

He fisted his hand on his sides, which were hidden underneath his cloak.

Men here and there were doing what they could do at the little time of peace in between battles to gear up and gather what was left of their armory, preparing horses and packs, swords and shields, spears and helm, everything that would be needed in battle. For even though their next move was yet to be decided or declared, one thing was for sure, the battle had only begun.

He passed by a circle of men around a bonfire who had just sat down to sup. Their faces carried the despair that these dark days brought to all and although the conversation would sometimes call up laughter among them, it was only for a brief moment.

Again, many looked up as he passed around them, wondering exactly what a lone Elf was doing here on the south, far from where Elves dwell on the North, whether in Rivendell, Lothlórien, or Mirkwood. And briefly, he wondered why he had left his hood down, for although Elrohir and Elladan did get the same treatment, they didn't stood out as he did for their dark locks was less noticeable than his golden ones. He knew the talk of the three Elves amid the war had grown.

One from Rohan recognized him and nodded once in a respectful greeting, having known who he was and what part he had in all this. All in the circle turned to him.

Looking back at him for a few moments, Legolas returned the greeting with a simple nod before going on his way.

"An Elf!" He heard when they thought he was far enough not to hear. They had mistakenly calculated or they had simply forgotten or not known how keen an Elf's hearing was. He judged that the one who spoke was a man from Gondor. Elves were rarely seen in this part of Middle-earth.

"Indeed, such a fair folk they are!" Legolas continued his way, slowly walking to where he was headed. Still he kept his attention to the conversation as it slowly was being covered by other much nearer sounds.

"Yea. That, they are. And he was no exception. Has he ridden in war with us?" Such a curious question from one so strong as a warrior of Gondor. In these days, they willingly embraced all help, even from one individual from the 'fair folk' as they said.

"From whence and did he come from? Was he with the Dúnedain?" The great Rangers from the north, Legolas mused. He closed his eyes briefly. Yes, he came with them and had ridden beside their captain, Aragorn, also Elessar, the Elfstone, and Isildur's heir.

Legolas hadn't slept that night. And he wished he could say it was because he couldn't tear his eyes away from the beauty of the stars or because of the peace he felt in the forest. But he could not. For no stars adorned the sky above, and the forest laid beyond the borders of the fortress of Dunharrow.

He just sat there awake, gazing ahead as if expecting someone to appear and attack him soon, when almost all lie, restless, maybe, but still asleep.

In a couple of hours, at least, they would go on ahead on their journey to, as Aragorn had already planned, the Paths of the Dead.

People would cringe in fear and dread just by hearing the name. He, having no anxiety of death whatsoever, being an immortal as he was, didn't fear it that much.

And Aragorn? To Legolas, it seemed he had no fear.

But unknown to him, Aragorn's fear didn't include battles and wars for he had expected them as long as the Dark Lord lives. His fear was for the Elf, himself. The same fear that he had, fear of loss and downright rejection, for Legolas hadn't either encouraged or discouraged him. It was as if, to the Man, that the Elf was playing it safe. But he respected him for his decision and was willing to wait.

A few paces behind Legolas, he heard the curtain of their booth being pushed aside, and from the sound of the footsteps, it was not Gimli. That gave him one choice left. Aragorn.

"Why do you not rest?" Aragorn's voice from behind him said. And the Ranger did nothing to conceal his worry.

Legolas shrugged. "Do not worry so, Estel, I am merely clearing my head." Not looking back, he answered, thinking he lost the eloquence he prided himself for with that statement.

Of all the years he had known the Man-and he had known him since the latter was just barely out of childhood-Aragorn could be as protective as a mother could be.

"Do you want me to sit there with you?" Aragorn asked, and Legolas looked back at the hesitation he thought he heard in his friend's voice.

Thinking he could use a company, a friend by his side, Legolas said, "Yes, please." He knew that the other, too, would probably want to 'clear his head' of the troubles that most likely swam endlessly in his mind.

Aragorn sat close beside Legolas. And the Elf, used to such contact between them ever since Aragorn had revealed what he felt, slightly leaned towards the Man for the weariness had finally caught up with him. Encouraged, Aragorn encircled an arm on his shoulder.

Legolas sighed, not knowing what to make of their relationship. He never had said anything in reply to Aragorn's courting, if it would be put that way, simply because he never wanted anything to go between them except for friendship, no matter how his heart told him otherwise. And he was thankful their friendship did not falter when Aragorn had made his feelings clear. If anything, they became much closer friends. With Legolas turning away every time Aragorn would put into words his love.

It brought him a cold fear that with every word Aragorn said, every feeling he confessed, he would find himself already too attached, he might have a hard time letting go. Aragorn was a mortal, after all.

Finally feeling the weight of weariness brought by such hard and dark days and the sleepless nights since they had set out for search of the hobbits, Legolas allowed himself to rest his head, which had suddenly gone heavy, on the other's shoulder.

Silence covered them like a protective and comfortable blanket. It was a mantle of security in all the chaos that was happening.

A few moments later, Legolas' breathing became slow and even. Aragorn looked at him and found his eyes in a hazy state of an Elf's sleep. A small smile formed in his lips. Gently and carefully, he slipped another arm under Legolas' knees and slowly stood up, carrying him. He fully expected the Elf to wake up, but he didn't.

The security Legolas felt, not known to Aragorn, had been enough to put him to sleep.

Aragorn had confirmed his suspicions that Legolas hadn't indeed slept ever since they had went in search for the hobbits, which was nearly two weeks ago. For every time he awoke, he found Legolas awake, as if he hadn't slept at all, and it was true. The battle at Helm's Deep hadn't helped in their rest at all. And any sleep he might have had after the parley with Saruman had been disturbed by Pippin's looking in the palantír and the Winged Nazgûl's passing over their camp.

He then laid Legolas in the Elf's bedroll, careful not to disturb both the Elf and Gimli. He had a few hours to spare. Legolas should at least have his rest, he thought. At daybreak, they would set out. He was about to reach out a hand to brush a non-existent hair in Legolas' face, but he stopped, pulling his hand back. Shaking his head, he walked out with a heavy heart, knowing Legolas still refused his advances.

There was a loud clang as a shield fell on the ground from a soldier's hold, causing Legolas' head to snap back to the sound, bringing him back to the present.

He gently chided himself for letting his thoughts stray. He glanced back at the circle of men he just passed by to see just how long his mind had drifted. He could still hear them, so it probably wasn't that long.

"Ah, my friends," The one from Rohan said. "He came with the Lord Aragorn, captain of the Dúnedain. Legolas is his name, and any help from such a skilled archer was greatly appreciated by our late King Theoden." The man explained. "I believe he was one of the nine, who are now rumored to had set out even before we even knew of the danger."

Looking back ahead, Legolas raised his hand from under the grey Lórien cloak and massaged his temples, remembering Theoden and the Fellowship.

Would all of them suffer the same fate as the kindly old King? Would all of them find their doom in this Great War against the Dark Lord? Or would he stand by and be lucky enough to live and watch his friends die in battle with honor?

No one knew, not even an Elf of immortal life with many years behind him, could say.

The Fellowship had become his family, his most trusted friends. In it lays his heart. What he feared the most was that all of them should live, and being the immortal that he was, he would be forced to watch as the days go by and when time had weighed great upon his friends' shoulders, it would be their time to depart. And he could do nothing but live on and continue as, one by one, the family he knew would leave him.

It was a knowledge that served as the only wall that separated himself from Aragorn. He thought it better that way.

Suddenly, he felt the urge to turn back, to not see Aragorn, his fear momentarily clouding his judgment. What for? If they should die someday, might as well stay away then so that it would not cause him much grief as it would when he stayed too close.

He hadn't felt that he stopped. He blinked and looked around.

Once again, he shook his head before placing the base of his palm on his forehead. 'What am I thinking?' he whispered in Elvish. But he failed to conjure up thoughts that would counter his not-so-welcomed previous ones.

He sighed. He had tried to take a break from the thoughts of the battle earlier and the battle ahead, and now he found himself in a battle against himself.

He couldn't love Aragorn in such way. He was his best friend ever since. And any love greater than a friend's love would have to be ignored lest he may find himself already doomed to grief at their inevitable parting.

But he'll be damned; his love for the mortal had already been making itself known to him.

'I cannot succumb to this.' Shaking his head, he whispered to himself as he rubbed his temples, trying to avoid an incoming headache. 'It would grieve me too much.'

~~~

a/n: have you heard orlando's voice in lotr.net? the official movie site? it was so nice.. billy's voice too! well okay, all their voices were nice -_-" what lovely accents..^__^ well, go, tell me what you think.. not about the voices, the chapter.. *lol* drop me a line!