Chapter 6
It was a four days ride to Minas Tirith, even when Arod took rests in between. Arod was used to such a hard gallop, but the elf still rested the worthy beast whenever he could. The journey was uneventful, for there was no orc or beast in sight. To the lively prince of Mirkwood, the journey was far too boring; there was no one to cause mischief with.
However, the journey didn't do anything to cool Legolas' temper, nor did his annoyance with the Gondorian king vanish.
Father will be so proud of me, Legolas thought with a grin as he led his horse to a nearby stream for a drink. Four days and I have stayed out of trouble. It was a magnificent feat for one like him.
To his relief, on the fourth day Legolas reached the gates of the White City. He gave a polite nod to the guards standing by the broken gate; the designs for the new ones were still in progress. Legolas was pleasantly surprised to see that most of the plans where underway; the marble ruins and debris were removed and many of the buildings were still being restored. The security had not yet lessened though. Guards in silver and black still marched in the circles of the city, as if anticipating an attack from the now defeated Mordor. It will be a while before the men will finally accept that there was no longer a threat from the East, but there were still the horrors of war to overcome.
Handing over his horse to a groom, the elf gave some general instructions on his horse before letting the groom take over. Arod left quietly, too exhausted to notice his surroundings. If Legolas was to leave again and immediately, he will not be able to ride Arod until he fully regained his strength. Aragorn will have to provide him with a horse.
Giving a sigh (he seems to have been doing it a lot since he entered the Realms of Men), the elf eyed the slopes that led to the Citadel warily. He made a mental note to ask Gimli if there was some sort of mechanism that could transport a person from the ground to the higher regions without him lifting a finger; Legolas gave a sigh and started to climb. Oh, yes, Aragorn will never hear the end of this one.
By the time Legolas reached the Citadel, he comforted himself by imagining every sort of torture for the one who designed Minas Tirith in the rising circles. He was an elf, which meant that he did not tire easily, but the climbing was tedious and time consuming, especially when he had to go all the way up. Much to his dismay, Aragorn stood at the entrance of the Citadel, smiling smugly.
"You knew?" the elf asked in disbelief. "You knew I had arrived and you made me climb all these steps? What kind of a host are you?"
"I feel a certain satisfaction to see you toil, my friend. For reasons I cannot explain, it is most entertaining."
"I can. I believe they call it sadism."
"A trait I seem to share with you."
"I? Never!"
"Really? What have you been up to in Rohan then?"
"Who, me? I am an innocent!"
"Something tells me that Éomer would not agree to that statement."
"He hardly agrees with anything at the moment, but more on that later. Are you not going to invite me in?"
"Why, so you could wreak havoc in my household?"
"For the love of our Evenstar!" Legolas cried, exasperated. "Invite me into your house, mortal! I am hungry, in dire need of a bath and I need a change of clothing!"
The King wrinkled his nose ungracefully. "Since you said it..."
Aragorn led the elf inside, taking a route through the throne room into the more private regions of the Citadel. These were the private rooms of the King, along with those of the Steward and many unused guest rooms.
"Things seem to have improved around here." The elf observed once Aragorn showed him a guest room prepared for him. It was a spacious room, with lush carpets on the marble floor and finely tailored curtains.
"Arwen's work," the King admitted. "She has been taking care of the Citadel while I gave my attention to the city and the surrounding fiefs."
"That must have shocked the Gondorians." Legolas said, chuckling. According to the Gondorian customs, women were, well, more reined in. Most of the Gondorian noblewomen took no part in administration.
"I shall leave to let you refreshen yourself." The King declared before turning on his heel.
"What! But we have barely met each other."
"If you think I will greet you while you have the traveler's filth on you, you are sorely mistaken." Aragorn retorted.
"Come now, I am sure I do not smell so bad... Come here." Legolas said, grinning mischievously as the elf reached forward with his arms. As he expected, the King retreated with a yelp and fled. Laughing hard, Legolas shook his head fondly and turned to his current task.
Once he was refreshed by a good bath and a hearty meal, the elf leaned back in his chair in satisfaction. Aragorn had joined the elf while he ate, and smiled when the elf relaxed in his chair.
"I hope you fare better now." Aragorn said.
"I do." The elf confirmed.
"Then come, master elf! You owe me a greeting." Laughing, the elf kicked back his chair and got up to greet his old friend. Aragorn pulled the prince into a tight embrace, thumping his back as he did so. The elf winced. Why do men keep doing that? The elf wondered.
"You need a fresh change of clothing." Aragorn murmured into the elf's shoulder.
The elf chuckled. "You need to wear more comfortable clothing." The King's armor was uncomfortable under his chin.
"Gondorian Protocol," Aragorn explained as he pulled back. "I have to be dressed in black and silver with my armor while on duty as the High King."
"I am beginning to appreciate the Gondorians less and less."
"But tell me," Aragorn went on, "How come you are dressed in Rohirric fashion?"
Legolas looked down. When he left for Gondor, the elf grabbed any clothing that was within reach. He wore black, tight-fitting tunic with long tight sleeves. The tunic reached his knee, split in Rohirric fashion to give him a freedom of movement off and on a horse. He wore matching leggings, and the only luxury on the overall outfit was the golden embroidery at the hem of his tunic.
" 'Tis a gift from the fair Lady Éowyn," the elf confessed. "The women had once gotten hold of my suit during the War of the Ring and had made it as a gift. But the War and the later events had not given them the opportunity to give them to me."
"Surely it is a fine piece!" Aragorn said, admiring the clothing.
"It is, though I do not know why they had only made it for me and not for Gimli or you."
"Gimli is no rider," Aragorn said, laughing as he remembered the auburn-haired dwarf and his dislike for horses. "And the Gondorians would not let me out of their sight. They seem to think I will disappear into thin air."
"Enough about you and I!" The elf cried. "Tell me! Where is our Evenstar? For my heart will be glad to see her!"
"Ah, I knew you would ask," the High King answered. "Come, she is within her chambers, but she impatient to know how you fare. She longs to hear about the Elven Lands."
"Then I will tell her." The elf replied, smiling broadly.
And so the royal led the elf by the hand through a number of corridors, apologizing profusely for the distance they had to walk. Legolas didn't mind, and said as such, for it gave him some time to observe his friend as they walked together.
Aragorn, son of Arathorn was tall, his prowess in battle well-expressed by his body. He had an easy grace that he had often kept hidden under his cloak when he was a mere Ranger. The year in the Wild had not been kind to him, for he was scarred and his hands were weathered. He was weighed down by care and responsibility, the duty of a King adding to his burden, but Aragorn was still young in the eyes of the Dunedain. His face became youthful when he smiled, and he possessed kind grey eyes. There was still power in his movement, one that would intimidate its opponents, but he was just. Lord Elrond had taught him well, the elf thought with an assured smile. He will be a good king.
They reached the Queen's chambers. Aragorn pushed open the door, calling, "Arwen! There is someone here to see you."
Arwen was sitting by the fire, her legs curled underneath her. She was sewing, her raven locks falling forward as she bent over her task. Her husband's call startled her, and she looked up in confusion which quickly cleared away when she saw Legolas.
Legolas came forward with mixed feelings. It was a joy to see his age-old friend, but she was… aging. It was clear in her eyes, which no longer seemed timeless. They seemed to tire, as he had often noticed among mortals. She had years still, and she was still beautiful. She had come forward with a joyful cry and Legolas' anguish over her mortality quickly vanished.
But when he embraced her, it was not her aging that surprised him but the flutter of a new life. He pulled back in surprise. Arwen blushed. "Really, Legolas, it does tend to happen."
"What is wrong with Middle-Earth in this new age?" Legolas asked, aghast.
"The start of a new world, my friend. Do not be so alarmed." Aragorn said soothingly.
"And you need a change of clothing." The lady added.
"Everyone seems to be offended by my clothing." The prince murmured.
"Not the clothing," Evenstar corrected, "The smell, my lord, the smell."
"Fetch me clothes, then, if the smell is so overpowering!"
Arwen, used to Legolas' speeches, was unfazed and with an impudent smile that she reserved only for her brothers, she rang for the maid and called for fresh clothes. When the maid returned, Arwen presented the suit to the elf, who examined them. They had flowing wide sleeves and colors of red and brown.
"Well, I'll be," Legolas murmured. "How come you have Elven garments, especially for males, Arwen?"
"It is mine," Aragorn affirmed. "But it should fit you."
Legolas made a face as he held up the clothes. They were sizes too big for his slimmer frame. And that gave only one explanation. Legolas said to the Gondorian King, "You are getting fatter; these clothes are far too big!"
"Or perhaps you are far too thin."
"I am completely fine as I am." Legolas went over and poked the King's ribs most disrespectfully. "I believe I feel the beginning of a belly right there…"
Aragorn grunted in pain and swatted his friend's hand away. "This is what happens when there is no war to fight and no skirmish to go into."
"It has only been a year to the War!"
"This brings us back to our main subject; tell me of Rohan. How does she fair?"
Legolas sighed and pulled up a chair to sit on.
He was about to sit down when Arwen interrupted. "Just a moment; I will not have an elf in my chambers who is wearing clothes smelling of weather and stink!" Legolas made a face.
"All this fuss over my clothes," Legolas snapped, though he was amused. Arwen shot him another glare she only reserved for her brothers. "Fine! I am changing, I am changing!"
He left for a moment and soon returned wearing fresh clothing and soiled garments in hand. Arwen studied him critically, looking him up and down and finally resting her eyes on the frank grin on the prince's face, "Satisfied, Evenstar?"
"For now." Arwen replied curtly. "I will have to talk to your father in finding you someone to run your house, but you can now talk about Rohan for all I care." Taking Legolas' used clothes, the Queen gave them both an imperious nod and left. Legolas quirked a smile, "She-elves," he muttered under his breath before taking a chair and sitting down. "I heard that!" Arwen's voice called from the corridor. Legolas winced but wisely made no smart reply.
And so Legolas began. He told Aragorn most of the beginning and the King listened with full attention. Legolas held back much of the details, skimming over the vague information of Rohan. It was a wise move. He trusted Aragorn, but it would simply not do for one kingdom to look weaker before the other. And the Rohirrim were proud. Legolas would not belittle them.
Aragorn sighed and got up. Offering a hand to the elf, he said, "Come, walk with me."
They walked together through the marbled corridors in companionable silence. At length, Aragorn spoke, "Things had not been so easy about here."
"Arwen, for first."
When Legolas raised an eyebrow, the King ventured to explain, "She has been quiet of late. My duties keep me from spending much time with her, but I know she has been distant lately. She has never smiled as broadly as she had done at your arrival."
"Completely understandable," Legolas protested. "Her father had left for the Undying Lands soon after her wedding. Her grandmother, Lady Galadriel is gone, and Celeborn does not venture out of his beloved woods, despite the dying mellorn trees. Her brothers are nowhere to be found. I recall that they had left for some adventure to the East. She must be glad to see her kith."
"Indeed," Aragorn murmured. "Oftentimes, I wish that she had chosen immortality."
"What is done is done." Legolas scoffed. "You and I cannot change it."
"True," Aragorn replied. "And yet, there had been an idea forming in my head. You have met the Ithilien Rangers? They had come to with my request to help Rohan."
"Indeed I have met them."
"I was wondering if a group of elves shifted to Ithilien, under your leadership. It would do Arwen good if her kind was close by…" Aragorn trailed off when he saw Legolas shake his head.
"I cannot be in two places at the same time." Legolas said. "And such an idea requires thorough planning. In the coming year, I will be busy with Rohan. And also, my people are busy restoring Mirkwood to what it once was. The Galadhrim would be hesitant to leave their beloved trees, even for their Evenstar. And," Legolas added apologetically, yet firmly. "Arwen is not a wilting flower. She is strong yet. She knew what her choice was and she has taken it. Let her settle."
Aragorn sighed but silently agreed. The idea was good but only to be pursued at a later time. For now, Gondor and Rohan had to regain their strengths.
"Besides," Legolas continued. Aragorn opened the doorway and stepped aside to let the elf go into the throne room first. "I doubt anyone of us would be able to-"Whatever Legolas was going to say, Aragorn would never find out for the elf painfully collided with someone else who happened to be coming from the other side.
Both Faramir and Legolas gave a cry of pain and stumbled back.
"Are you alright?" Aragorn asked, alarmed. He still stood at his spot, unsure to go to the elf or to his Steward.
"Who exactly are you asking?" Faramir asked through gritted teeth, massaging his bruised front.
"My question exactly." Legolas added, straightening. The Gondorian King looked from one to the other.
"Both, I suppose." Aragorn said. Now that he was king, he soon realized the safety of staying neutral.
"No broken bones, I am fine." Faramir announced, straightening his Ranger uniform.
"No broken bones," Legolas confirmed, "But I am worried about my head."
"I have questioned your sanity, my friend, long before you have started to question it." Aragorn quipped, sarcasm dripping from his words. There was still relief evident in his voice, now that he was sure both of them were out of danger. "So the collision would not have put more damage as there is already."
"Are you calling me incapable?"
"Mad and insane," Aragorn confirmed, nodding his head solemnly.
"At least try to keep my respect in third company." Legolas protested, indicating Faramir.
"The third company should not deceived by your charm."
"Ahem," Both royals turned their heads to regard the Steward, who smiled apologetically.
"I only meant to say," Faramir said softly. "This third company has a name and is fully capable of hearing, thank you."
"Ah, yes," Aragorn said, straightening. "Legolas, I assume you have already met Faramir?"
"Aye, I have." Legolas said, nodding towards the Steward, who nodded in return.
"And Faramir, I assume you have met Legolas?"
"Aye, I have."
"I had not expected to see you here." Legolas said, speaking to Faramir. The Steward smiled.
"I had not decided on coming, for I was needed elsewhere. However, my king's command brought me back to the White City." The Steward replied.
Legolas smiled in approval. Faramir was a young and mature man. He had a naturally low and deep voice but that was not a sign of weakness. His eyes were keen and capable of reading the hearts of men. Legolas had not been able to befriend the Steward, for they had only met once or twice, where they both remained cordial. The prince had only spoken to him enough to notice there was intelligence in the Steward's piercing grey eyes. He was shrewd, but he was humble; a perfect man to have as an advisor and as a loyal subject.
"Forgive me," Faramir said. "If I had known I was to greet a guest, I would have worn much more," Faramir trailed off, looking down at his travel-stained and weather-worn clothes, "Well, better clothing, to say the least. I had come straight to the Citadel from my mission without bothering for a wash or a change."
"I am not offended, for I have leaved in the open myself." Legolas assured the Steward. The two looked at one another warmly. Already, each had high regards for the other.
"However," Legolas said, pressing his fist on his chest as a sign of mutual respect. "I must say; do not take offence of what I am about to do. I assure you that I have no wish to start a conflict or a war between my kind and yours." Studiously avoiding the puzzled looks on the faces of Aragorn and Faramir, he continued, "You should know, I had planned to do this only in the absence of Lady Arwen. I would never show any form of violence in her presence, especially in her delicate condition."
If Aragorn had a glimmer of understanding behind Legolas' words, he had no time to act upon it. The elf straightened quickly, and deftly backhanded the Gondorian King. Aragorn felt the stinging pain across his cheek as he fell, sprawled in an undignified lump over the marbled floor.
There was stunned silence before Legolas heard an unexpected sound; laughter. It came from Faramir, who went forward and grabbed his King by the shoulders, helping him up. "What have you done to the elf that has raised such ire?" he asked Aragorn. "I haven't the slightest idea." Aragorn answered, looking up at the glowering elf. There was something warm gushing from his lip. When Aragorn raised his hand to feel it, he realized that he split his lip in the onslaught.
"You fool!" Legolas burst out furiously. "Are you dim-witted, or is it that Elrond had not been able to teach you nothing! Here you are, King of Gondor and you could not even have offered aid to your neighboring country! Or is it simply that you have grown corrupted in your short reign?" Legolas spoke fast and quick in his native tongue, his words scathing. Faramir, though well-versed in the Elven Tongue, was not as fluent and barely kept up but Aragorn understood all too well. The King held up his hands in a placatory manner.
"Peace, brother!" Aragorn murmured, straightening. "I know my duty is to help and serve, but if you would be so kind to follow me outside, you may realize of my own reasons of not being able to help."
Choosing now Westron, Aragorn spoke to Faramir, "Excuse us for a while. Legolas and I have much to discuss. You and I will return to the affairs of the State shortly."
Understanding that something significant has happened, Faramir nodded and left without complaint. Aragorn eyed the elf hesitantly before he grabbed the elf by his shoulder and led him outside.
"There are things you and I need to speak of." Aragorn said as he led his friend outside the building. "Perhaps you will then understand why I asked for your help."
"You see, my country has been, and still is, facing many problems of its own."
~S~
Author's Note:
Happy New Year to my OTWAB readers! I meant to update this earlier, (no, honest), but there was one problem after another. Happily, updates will come sooner.
Replies to Anon:
Guest: Yes indeed! :D
