A/N: If I don't update regularly, it's because I'm kind of homeless at the moment and finding a place to sleep at night is kind of my priority. Fear not, this story probably only has one or two more chapters after this one, so you won't have to wait long.
Chapter 9
Over the next several days Legolas continued to stay by Aragorn's side while he lay in bed. They had agreed to leave at dawn three days from the time that Aragorn had woken up, and all the arrangements were being made for the pair while the man recovered. The horses, which had both arrived safely to the castle, were completely packed and ready with food, water skins, healing provisions, and special Mirkwood ale for both the journey to Imladris and as a gift for Elrond. Both men hoped it would be a relaxing, uneventful, and relatively enjoyable ride back to Rivendell.
It was made clear that Aragorn would remain bedridden until the morning that they were to leave, much to the stubborn Ranger's dismay. Although Legolas was pleasant company, both knew that Aragorn would rather visit Legolas when he was able to move rather than be visited as a weakened patient in a sick ward. He grew tired of being waited on by Legolas and the Silvan healer. Aragorn took it relatively well though, and two relaxing days passed without major incident in Mirkwood.
Hours from departure, Legolas awoke to finish packing and wake Aragorn. He stood up and slipped a pale jerkin on over his leggings, then walked almost automatically to Aragorn's room, as he had every day since they arrived. He walked in complete silence to stand beside the bed, looking down at Aragorn with mixed emotions. The man looked so peaceful in sleep, so careless. All of his fears were lost in the world of deep mortal dreams. Legolas carefully reached out and brushed his hand over the man's jaw line. Since Aragorn knew how he felt, he felt slightly more free to take comfort in touch. Aragorn never did anything to discourage these simple gestures, but stayed true to his word and did not return the almost caresses of the elf.
Under Legolas' careful touch, Aragorn woke suddenly as if from a startling dream and looked around in confusion. Once he saw Legolas standing there next to the bed with his long golden hair flowing freely over his shoulders, dressed in an almost white jerkin and bringing a curious light to the room, he relaxed and smiled.
"Legolas?" he breathed, "Is this a dream?" Legolas did not reply, so Aragorn met his eyes. Legolas gazed back without blinking or showing any emotion to give a clue as to what he was thinking. He knew he should just tell the man to get ready and leave him in peace, but the vulnerability in Aragorn's eyes made it hard to walk away.
"Tell me what to do," the man pleaded softly, reaching out a hand to take the elf's. He laced his sun stained fingers through strong ivory ones. Legolas knew exactly what the request meant.
"Do you love her?" Legolas asked softly.
"Until now, I never doubted it."
Legolas took the hand intertwined with his and brought it to his face, examining each knuckle and finger, tracing his fingers over scars and imperfections. After what seemed like an eternity, he touched his lips softly to the back of the man's hand. Aragorn's eyes were closed, concentrating on the sensations.
"What does your heart tell you?" Legolas asked. It was clear that Aragorn was at least considering the possibility of being with Legolas, and it was more than the elf had dared to hope for. The most he had expected was a polite refusal, and hopefully a continuation of their normal relationship. Aragorn was supposed to love Arwen without doubt.
Aragorn did not reply to the elf's question. He tugged on the hands holding his, drawing the elf toward him. Legolas slowly bent his face to the man's. He hesitated somewhere between standing and leaning, but Aragorn placed a gentle hand on his cheek and coaxed him the rest of the way down. Legolas' hair fell in a curtain over his head, hiding the pair from the rest of the world. Their faces were so close that their vision of each other was blurred. Their breath intermingled, becoming one unit, but neither moved to close the gap, testing the waters. It was unbearable to Legolas, being this close and being unable to make that final leap, to give in to lust and crush his lips to Aragorn's, to finally let his desires play out.
"Do you want this? Only this?" He asked, his voice breathy and low with desire.
There was a long moment of hesitation from the man, and it was answer enough for Legolas. He closed his eyes, breaking contact with Aragorn's, and pulled away from the man's hand to a standing position once more.
"No." Legolas said firmly. Aragorn turned his head away. The elf knew that if there was nothing to regret, Legolas could keep the man no matter what. If something happened that Aragorn regretted, he would lose Legolas not only as a lover, but as a friend. Their situation was constructed around the hope of either keeping their current relationship or taking another step. Going backward was not an option for either of them, and they balanced delicately on the edge between love and loss.
"May as well get up, we shall be leaving shortly," Legolas said gently. He turned and swiftly walked toward his own room to ready himself. He paused at the door and spoke without turning back. "Estel, everything will be alright, no matter what happens between us," and then he was gone.
Estel took a surprisingly small amount of time to get up and stretch away the stiffness that accompanied several days in bed. He and Legolas said a swift thank you and goodbye to Thranduil, and were on their way before they knew it. They kept a steady pace since they were a few days behind and there was need for haste. They planned to ride quickly through the forest to the River Anduin. Once they reached the mountains they would take their time.
The two did not speak much in the first few days unless it was necessary. Both were comfortable with the silence, glad that they were close enough to be completely themselves in each other's company. Legolas ignored Aragorn's frequent glances in his direction, always accompanied with a brow crinkled with concentration. Within only four short days they had reached the old crossing of the Anduin. They had barely stopped at all, neither needing much rest and figuring it was easier to eat while they were on the move. At one stop, Legolas helped Aragorn unwrap and discard his bandages for good. A large, slightly discolored scar was all that remained of the once deadly gash.
They forded the river with ease, glad to once again be on the path that so many had taken in ancient times. The history made them feel safer, somehow, from the dark forces alive in the world. Once they crossed, they decided the horses deserved a rest, and they sat for several hours, entertaining their own thoughts.
Legolas moved over and sat next to Aragorn, who was examining his leg again.
"Estel, how are you feeling?" He asked.
"I'm a little bit stiff. I went from lying in a bed to sitting on a horse. My legs feel weak and strange."
"You must be dying then. A little bit stiff for you is equivalent to a wound in the heart to most," Legolas replied with a smirk. He held his hand out fo Aragorn. "We shall find shelter and camp here for a night. You need rest." Aragorn took the offered hand and stood slowly. When he put all of his weight on his injured leg he unexpectedly collapsed into Legolas, who steadied him with ease.
Legolas put an arm around Aragorn's shoulders. "It's alright, Estel, lean on me for a moment," he said lightly. Aragorn did as he was told, but refused to meet the elf's eyes. Legolas smiled, "Needing help doesn't make you weak, Estel. On the contrary, it takes more courage to show your weakness to someone. It takes trust to let someone see you at anything but your best and even more to admit to it. Do not be ashamed," he said sincerely. Aragorn still didn't look up, but his body relaxed against the elf's.
"Stubborn mortal," Legolas added, nudging Aragorn in the ribs. The playfulness in his voice made Aragorn finally look up with a smile.
"You think you know everything just because you've lived a couple years longer than me, do you?" he asked, not a shred of sincerity in his voice. Legolas merely smiled in reply and let the man's shoulders go. Aragorn stumbled and grabbed onto Legolas again to help steady his unused legs.
"I think I've made my point," Legolas laughed. He didn't miss how Aragorn stared at him while he laughed, how his eyes lit up. His hope soared. "How about we take this night easy and open that bottle of ale that my father sent with us," he suggested, hoping the drink would loosen Aragorn up enough to let Legolas know what he was thinking.
"That sounds welcome indeed!" Aragorn replied.
The companions traveled for another hour until they could find shelter in a small grouping of trees. They set up camp and lit a fire, then settled into easy conversation while eating their meal. As the sinking sun lengthened the friends' shadows, Legolas brought out the wine and poured each of them a goblet full. It was strong and sweet, made by and for elves, and soon the friends were warm and content. After a second goblet, Aragorn was happily chatting about trees and woodland creatures, slightly stumbling over his words.
And so it went into the dark night, both of them drinking until the bottle was empty and their laughter was loud and uncensored. The midnight moon found them lying side by side, hands barely touching, smiling silently at the stars.
"Legolas?" Aragorn asked after a long silence. His speech was slurred, making the elf's name sound like "legless". Legolas snickered uncharacteristically. "I always wanted…" he began. The smile on Legolas' face died instantly. He turned to meet Aragorn's glazed look of admiration.
"Estel..." he said, struggling to give the moment the full attention that it deserved. He reached for the man, turning on his side and resting a hand on the back of Aragorn's neck. He once again found his face so close to Aragorn's that the features of the man's face were blurred, but then so was everything else that night.
"…more." Aragorn said, both finishing his thought and asking for something that he didn't know. Legolas let his eyes close briefly, and so was startled by desperate lips suddenly pressed against his. He tensed for a moment, but when Aragorn did not pull away, he grasped desperately at the man, pressing his body flush against his friend as he had wanted to for so long. His lips moved furiously over Aragorn's, his tongue pushed its way between closed lips and met the other's with a gasp of delight and lust.
Something in his mind was struggling to surface, but he could not concentrate on what it was. He felt hands tangling in his hair, pulling and pressing. More, said the hand, more. Legolas' hands loosened their grasp slowly of their own accord as his mind began to catch up with his body. Tongues battled for dominance and lips danced in perfect harmony to racing pulses.
And that's when Legolas realized exactly what was happening. His hands switched from pulling to pushing, and Aragorn complied, but only to shift his mouth from lips to jaw. The power of speech returned to Legolas.
"Ai! Aragorn…"
But the man was too drunk to hear the panic in the elf's voice or to notice the use of his real name. He took the cry as encouragement, letting his hands fumble with the clasps of Legolas' jerkin.
"Nay! Aragorn! Estel!" He cried with more desperation, struggling out from under the man's searching fingers and tongue. He used every ounce of strength he had to shove the man off of him as hard as possible. It worked a little too well, and Aragorn's body was slung to the side. He looked around confusedly.
"Wow," he said, touching his fingers to his bruised lips, "that was…"
"Wrong." Legolas finished, adjusting his body to defensively face Aragorn and closing the clasps at his neck with shaking hands. "You promised." He was still drunk, but the conviction of his words seemed to sober the man up considerably.
"Oh, I see how it is, Legolas. You'll just act like this never happened."
"You won't remember this in the morning, Estel." He said, half trying to convince his own mind of this fact.
"Fine, be that way. Go hide from me again, Legolas, it's what you do best."
"That's not true." Legolas countered softly, hurt.
"No, you're right. You are much better at trying to steal people from the ones they love." Aragorn snapped back. Even though Legolas could see the blank look in Aragorn's eyes indicating that he had no idea what he was saying, he reeled back as if slapped.
"You don't know what you are saying." He said, pleading for the man to understand this, too.
"I know exactly what I'm saying, elf." And the way he spat the final word turned the confused hurt that flooded Legolas into blinding anger.
"Well if you feel that way, go tell Arwen you want her. Go tell her how disgusted you are by me. Go be with her forever if you make it through this war alive! Forget me and everything I've ever done for you, because I take it back. I don't love you anymore and I wish I never did!" The words sounded desperate and childish even in his own ears, and he stood and stormed off deeper into the trees.
"I'll do that! Thanks!" called Aragorn. Legolas heard the man drop back to the ground, falling instantly into a drunken slumber.
But Legolas continued to run, far away from Aragorn and his words. Far from wine and the confusion that the man's presence caused. Far from steel blue eyes and perfect lips.
