Legolas and Gimli walked silently. The night was warm, almost humid, but with a cool breeze. It was pleasant, and, upon changing into light nightclothes, they sat together on the balcony, Gimli puffing his pipe pensively, and Legolas calmly contemplating the stars. The wafts of smoke floated slowly away, as if being drawn up by lapping waves. Soon, Legolas knew, Gimli would go to bed. This was how it often was between them. They would spend the dark hours in quiet company, ere Gimli rested, and Legolas dreamed. Being close companions, they did not need conversation to enjoy each other's presence.
Legolas lay back, tucking his arms behind his head and staring towards the starry heavens. In such a clear sky, the bright pinholes in the night's fabric were infinite, twinkling, farther away than aught imaginable. So he watched them, as one would watch a distant ship. Seeing them, he mused, reinforced his insignificance; but not in a depressing sense. It reminded him of how very small he was in the scheme of the universe, and his connection, even to the far flung, white specks. For, sometimes, the most comforting thing the universe could do for him was to humble him, to make him feel a miniscule thread in the web of it all. And what was more worthy of his humbleness than the heavens? Thus, pondering the outliers of his vision, he could most appreciate those things closest to him.
The leaves shifted in the courtyard below. A wisp of cloud twisted past the moon.
Gimli's thoughts, as he studied his friend, were far more earthbound. He tapped his pipe against his lip.
There was something antagonizing his consciousness.
He respected Legolas, deeply. Therefore he did not wish to offend him. But today, for as highly tuned as the Elf's senses were to all other circumstances, he had proven himself unseeing to the most basic, the most primal. Legolas was unable to recognize Aragorn's obvious attraction to him. And that was dangerous. Because as much as he also respected Aragorn, and for as honorable a man as he knew him to be, he was still just that, a man. A king, but a man all the same, and not incapable of wrongs. So if Legolas did not know how to recognize that, he could quickly find himself in an uneasy situation.
He watched as the other stirred.
"Gimli, what is the matter?"
The Dwarf shook his head, frustrated that his friend could so easily identify his disquietude and yet fail entirely to identify Aragorn's predicament - and it was very much a predicament. He did not doubt that Aragorn was himself disturbed by it. Although he did wonder if Aragorn realized it for what it was. The King had reacted with surprise to his own actions.
Thusly caught in thought, Gimli did not respond immediately, tapping his pipe once more, and slowly exhaling the smoke.
"Legolas, you trust me, do you not?"
"Of course," said Legolas, without hesitation. He turned to face the Dwarf.
"Had I something important to tell you, then, you would let me tell you, no matter what it was?"
Legolas frowned.
"Yes." He had sat up, concerned. "Do you have something important -" Gimli held up a hand that he be silent.
"So you would not be angry with me?"
"By the sun and the stars, Gimli, of what do you speak?"
"Would you be angry?"
"Nay, but -"
"That is all I needed to know. . ." Gimli put down his pipe, taking on a grave demeanor and crossing his arms. Legolas furrowed his brow.
"What is it, Gimli? Now you have me frightened -"
Gimli sighed.
"Legolas, you know that you are very beautiful, do you not?"
A faint blush spread across Legolas' cheeks, a light brush stroke of rose. It was hardly noticeable, but Gimli caught it, and it made him smile. Veritably, it was a charming look for the Elf, one that Gimli felt honored to behold. For it was only around close friends that the Elf let down his guard, and expressed his true emotions so freely. To anyone else, he would have only a cool rejoinder, and collected comport, or some cryptic deflection. But as it were, Legolas tugged at his cuffs.
"I suppose. . . "
"Nay, do not suppose. It is a fact - "
"Master Dwarf, if you are trying to win me over, it has worked."
Gimli chuckled his low rumble. "I am happy to hear that, my friend, though that is not my aim. What I am trying to say is that, because you are beautiful, it is very easy for people to see you, and to desire you."
"I suppose. . . "
"Enough supposing, I have seen it." Gimli's tone grew somewhat darker, as he came nearer to revealing what he knew had to be revealed. "There are those that admire you, and there are those with primal aspirations."
"Gimli, why are you telling me this?"
The Dwarf sighed, then took a deep breath.
"Sometimes a man, even an honorable man, even a kingly man, may fall prey to these primal aspirations. To lust." Legolas' eyes widened. Then he looked away, calculating.
"Aragorn? Is this about Aragorn?"
Gimli nodded, glad to be spared the awkwardness of saying it himself. He had hoped Legolas would be clever enough to pick up on his hint. Legolas began to laugh, holding up his hands.
"I surrender, Gimli. If this is a jest, you have outdone me." Yet Gimli did not begin to laugh. His face was as unmoving as the stones he so loved. Color rose to Legolas' cheeks as he realized Gimli's seriousness, and what he was implying. Then he grew more defensive, standing up. "Dwarf, you are ridiculous if you think that Aragorn lusts for me."
"Remember your promise, you said you would not be angry with me, and that you would listen."
Legolas sat back down, arms crossed. He had promised. And he had also acknowledged his trust in the Dwarf. So he could not ignore him; that would be to betray him. Obviously it was with great consideration that Gimli told him his worries, and obviously they had been thought out.
"I saw him today, stealing glances at you," Gimli continued. Legolas narrowed his eyes, but the Dwarf could not tell if it was with anger, or with surprise, or if it was only that he was listening closely. "I mean him no ill will, surely you must know that. He is my friend, also." Gimli paused. "Perhaps he does not even realize what it is he does. But there is one thing I know for certain: his touches were not altogether innocent. He had a look of lust in his eyes, and it was for you."
"I think you must be mistaken," whispered Legolas.
"At first I did not believe it, either." Gimli ran his thumbnail over the wood of his pipe. His argument would have to be irrefutable if he hoped to sway his friend, so he organized his thoughts. He would have to choose each word with care, and precision. "Do you remember, this morning, when you sang for him?"
"Aye."
"And you remember how I joked. I said that you looked as if you might kiss. I know you do not agree. You were caught up in dancing. However, I was watching," he took another deep dreg from the pipe. "Well, I thought little of this. After all, it was the first time we had gathered together in over a year. But then when we went riding this afternoon, he was in a peculiar state, preoccupied. And I tell you, now and again, he would glance over to you, and his eyes would linger over. . . certain parts."
"I saw no such thing."
"That is my point. You do not see these things, and that is why I am telling you. You were busy reigning the horse. You would not have been able to notice it. But I was your passenger." He could see that Legolas was growing defensive again, anger flashing in the dusk of his eyes. "Just wait. There is more, listen. When I came upon you two in the dining hall - "
"He fell, Gimli, you must believe me. He did not force me to catch him."
"I do believe you. But when I came upon you - and now it is you who must believe me - he was going to kiss you. There was lust in his eyes."
Legolas bit his lip, growing uncomfortable with the conversation. He fidgeted with his shirt cuffs. While he trusted Gimli with every fiber, it was difficult for him to accept what was being said.
"Well, so what if there was? Aragorn is a man. You have already said that you have seen men act this way before." Gimli recognized the obstinate tint to Legolas' voice, and he knew it would not do to meet it with obstinacy of his own. So he spoke gently.
"Aye, I have. Yet they were always far away. They could not get to you. Aragorn, on the other hand, is very near to you."
"What are you suggesting?"
"I know that this is a delicate issue, and I would like to have faith that he would never do this to you, but it is only for your safety that I bring it up. As I have said, Aragorn is an honorable man. However, it is not beyond even honorable men to commit dark deeds, swayed by lust. We have seen it." Legolas nodded solemnly, acutely remembering the man the Fellowship had lost, and the cry of his horn. "And there is one dark deed in particular - and I know this only because you have told me - that could spell your undoing."
The trees shuddered, and the moon seemed to pull her inky veil close about her pale cheeks.
"Aragorn would not do that."
"Legolas, we did not think that Boromir would do what he did, and yet he did. It was the Ring that tempted him, but his situation is not so different from the one I am suggesting. The Ring poisoned him with a lust for power, and it caused him to do something he would never otherwise have done." Gimli paused, looking gravely at his friend. "The Ring is gone. What is tempting Aragorn is a natural urge. And it is not necessarily evil, but it can cause evilness all the same. If he were to force you - "
"I understand your concern," interrupted Legolas, a harshness rising in his voice. He closed his eyes, and calmed himself, and when he reopened them the fury therein had diminished to a glimmer. "Nonetheless, I cannot help but think that you are overreacting. For men, lust is a passing emotion, no? If what you say is true, and this is what Aragorn feels for me, then it may pass."
"It may. But if it does not, it will build up inside him. He will be able to think of nothing else. It will consume him, and overtake him. You have not felt it, so you do not understand the nature of it."
Legolas was quiet, gazing across the horizon whither the springtime sun had bowed its golden head.
"Oh, I think I might," said Legolas, with a westward nod, towards the sea. "If lust is as you say, then I know it."
Too sorrowful, that look! Too painful, that tone! Instantly, Gimli regretted his comment.
"I am sorry, I did not mean to remind you of that."
"I never forget it, so fret not, dear friend, you did not remind me," said Legolas, simply. Even at night, he knew the sparkling whitecaps, and shining shores, hidden though they were in the distance. The wind, too, was still flavored with its sharp scent.
"Silly Elf, that makes me fret more!" He pulled at his beard. "But yes, I would imagine that what he feels is similar to what you feel for the sea. As it can consume you, and make you do things that you would not normally do, so too can this lust change Aragorn. Just as the sea can overtake you in an instant, it is this way for men, also."
"Then that is dangerous, indeed."
"Yes, and men lack the restraint of Elves."
"Not all men."
"Let us hope." Gimli puffed at his pipe again, chewing on the end. He was considering all that he had said - if he had accurately judged the situation - when a new thought struck him. A more uplifting one. One that piqued his inner romanticist. "You know, Legolas, this need not be such a dark scenario, if you think about it."
"Oh?"
"Well, lust is sometimes accompanied by another emotion." Gimli, waggling one brow, breathed a heart with his smoke. It drifted past the Elf's nose, who stared at it, wide-eyed, as it dissipated.
"Where did you learn that?"
"The heart? From Gandalf, of course. But do not change the subject." A toothy grin spread across the Dwarf's face, as he leaned nigh. "Have you considered the idea that he might love you?"
Gimli could have laughed at the way the other jumped. He did not, because he knew it would be insulting. Still, it was as if the words had bitten him. The blush was truly endearing.
"I have only just learned that he is attracted to me. So no, Gimli, I have not considered that." Legolas pinched his nose, overwhelmed, and flustered.
"Well, have you considered the idea that you might love him?" Legolas' eyes widened.
"I-I had not," stammered the Elf, growing embarrassed once more. "Besides! We are both male."
"That has nothing to do with it, and you know it. Love is love." Gimli began to grin again, curling from cheek to cheek. Mayhap there was hope for this yet. "Does that mean that you would consider entertaining the idea?"
"Gimli, he is married," Legolas said in a low voice.
"Oh, that is true." He chewed his pipe again.
Thinking on this, Gimli began to find it increasingly odd that Aragorn should be lusting over Legolas, when he had married his boyhood love. After all, Arwen was radiant; his lust was disloyal to her. And Aragorn was not the sort of man to be disloyal. Or, for that matter, to lust. He was far too composed.
Then he remembered the talk with Arwen in the nursery. The two were having an argument. What of she had declined to say, but a suspicion rose in him. He would have to ask her more about this.
Because as far as he could tell, Aragorn and Legolas would do each other well. A lover could distract the one from the cruel sea. And for the other, what more could he ask for than to have Legolas as his lover? There would be no threat to the throne, since they were, as Legolas had said, both male. And Legolas was himself enchanting beyond measure. Although he had been initially angry - nay, he was still a touch angry - Gimli could not blame Aragorn for making him the object of his desires.
None of which was to say that he condoned infidelity. Rather, he felt that this was a special situation. For he was an extremely intuitive individual. This being so, upon examining more closely Aragorn and Arwen's 'argument,' he suspected that the word belied the true nature of their relationship.
A year past, even, he had suspected. For, though the pair had never publicly advertised their affections overmuch, saving their kisses for private places, as was appropriate, Aragorn no longer brushed the Evenstar's long locks from her face, or ran his fingers adoringly through the black strands. He no longer wound his arm round her waist, or cupped her chin. These actions he had ever done, as tiny tokens of his love. Yet some time ago, they had dwindled, and now had ceased altogether. Though his veneration of her remained - he did still care for her - it had become changed. Muted, to the warm glow of a friendship. All of this the Dwarf had quietly observed.
It made him sad to see a love fade. Fortunately, he sensed it had been a mutual fade. He guessed, even so, that Aragorn was the more reluctant to admit this. Aragorn, he suspected, had loved Arwen for so long that he had forgotten how to do otherwise. His mind still clung to the lifeless visage of their erstwhile passion, even when his heart was telling him he must move on. This was all only speculation, of course.
None the less, this new prospect - one that he had not considered with his original concerns - that another love might be kindled from the ashes of the old, that! that was enough to make an old Dwarf tear up. That was something magical. Even if he was not sure if Aragorn's lust disguised love, with his worries voiced, he would watch and wait; he would remain optimistically wary.
Yet in all of this, what he had not anticipated was that Legolas might harbor some secret feelings of his own. Certainly, a little fit of stammering was no definite indication. What intrigued him was that the Elf had not flatly denied the possibility, as he would normally do. Because, though Gimli was the only living soul to know it, Legolas had professed to him that he had forsworn all ambitions for any romantic sort of love. The sea and its hold on him had stolen those dreams. Too soon it would pull him away, he had said.
Legolas, also, was a reasonable creature. Being thus, he knew that to fall in love would be to risk exposing that love to the sea. And he could not do that.
A smile began to creep across the Dwarven features anew, for Aragorn was no Elf, and thus the sea had no power over him. If there were these latent emotions in both, he swore that he would coax them out.
"You have a scheming look in your eye that I do not like."
Gimli blinked. The Elf had done it again, seen straight through him. If only he could use that piercing gaze to see the truth behind the King's touches.
"Well, you two would make for an excellent couple," the Dwarf offered with a shrug. He said it as if it were in jest, but Legolas did not know that his stout companion was quite serious.
"Do not mock me."
"I am not mocking." Gimli rubbed his chin. "Although I admit, I always imagined you eloping with a tree. Or a flower, perchance. N'er a man."
"Now you are mocking."
"How could you tell?" Gimli hummed, pushing away from the balustrade. He pocketed his pipe. Glancing at the moon, it was two hours past midnight. Too late for him to be awake. Now that he had gotten this weight off of his chest, he would sleep more peacefully. He heard Legolas hop down from his perch. Rather, Legolas let him hear.
"Gimli, thank you for telling me these things. I am sure it was difficult for you." Legolas put a hand on either one of Gimli's broad shoulders.
"You are very welcome, my friend." Gimli stared up at the other. With the stars in a halo around his dark head, he recalled the night the archer had shot down the fell beast of a Nazgul. It was a fitting recollection, he decided. Now that Legolas had been warned, Gimli was confident that they would be able to avoid the disastrous outcome he had feared.
"Even so, I am not sure if I can believe everything that you say. Not for lack of faith in you, of course, but for the sake of the Lord of the White Tree. I have not heard his side of the story. Nonetheless, I accept your observations, and I will take them to heart."
"That is the best that I could hope for." He patted his friend on the back. "I will see you in the morning?"
"Aye. Good night, my friend."
"Oh!" Gimli said, turning in the doorway. "There is one more thing that I would have you promise me."
"What is that?"
"Please do not let yourself alone with Aragorn. At least until he can sort out his feelings. Or you yours."
"Very well," quoth the Elf, settling back down on the ashen balustrade, already pensive.
With a sympathetic nod, Gimli went to bed. He knew that Legolas would linger on the balcony for some time, admiring the night, perhaps dozing beneath its blanket. Eventually, though, he would wander to bed, if only for the soothing darkness of their room, or for his companion's steady breaths - which Gimli knew calmed him into dream. So Gimli fell asleep to the silver silhouette of the Elf against the murk and the moon.
Laying bare his troubles for the stars to survey, Legolas felt some comfort in their ancient wisdom and quiet vigil. The cool breeze stroked his skin, and assured him that happen what may, Arda would not forsake him. So, though an hour flew past, and he scarcely noticed it, he thought a great deal about all that Gimli had said. Just as he had promised, he took every word to heart. He thought about Aragorn, and whether or not, if the man did long for him, there was love. And if there was, what he would do. In his chest, he felt a strange, and unfamiliar excitement.
Little did he know that, on a balcony not so far from his own, Aragorn pondered these same thoughts. To the King, however, the burning points in the firmament were not kind, but callous. He could not face them. They were, to him, as a million luminous eyes.
