Author: MistofStars

Pairing: Legolas/Aragorn

Rating: T

Warnings: Violence, angst, slash, sad, silly

Author's note: now we're in the year 2960 of the Third Age. It's springtime, yay!

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters; this is all just a beautiful lie. I don't make money with this. Everything's made up! Totally made up! Unfortunately made up! But still- made up!

Comments: Desired, loved, adored, wished for, so please ;)

!!! explanations elfish words !!!

my meleth = my love

Chapter 10: eternal memorial

Right on the field of battle the southern elves had prostrated before the northern elves to beg for mercy. Thranduil had granted them their wish willingly – he had become too tired in all those past years to continue fighting. He wanted to have final peace with his kin for now and for ever. Now all elves that still had some of their strengths left and who were not badly injured had to help removing the battle's debris. They laid the dead bodies next to each other with caution and with serious miens. A few days later all of these corpses would be committed to the flames.

Now there was no time to cut enough firewood for the gone elves. They had to pay attention to the still living and wounded soldiers who needed medical care, a warm home and curing sleep. Quickly some male soldiers collected a lot of devitalized branches from the forest floor and soon simple litters were built with these branches. They laid the wounded persons upon their warm capes and put them on the litters to carry them back to Northern Mirkwood's fortress as soon as possible.

Aragorn stayed by Legolas' and Thranduil's side. He watched how some elfish warriors uplifted Legolas' unconscious body gently to lay him down upon one of the stretchers. The mortal held his breached arm with one hand and tried to arrest the bleeding. Through the constant loss of blood and his exhaustion an endless dizziness blackened his vision. He couldn't help carrying Legolas, but he walked beside him and those who carried him through the forest grimly. With them the majority of the elves returned to Thranduil's castle. The march back was as cheerless and as lengthy as eternity. Worn out Aragorn plugged along through this infinite nightmare. He wanted to sleep so badly, he wanted to forget his bleeding and hurting arm, he needed to forget these terrible worries about his wounded lover. He felt like crying, but he was too exhausted to shed a single tear.

(…)

When they arrived in the great hall of Mirkwood's fortress Thranduil instructed to allocate the additional wounded to the others, who still got cured. The king's healers had worked all night through, but they couldn't find rest yet. Nevertheless, their effort had shown some effects already: Thanks to them all those who had gotten medical care had returned to their own chambers to convalesce for a while. Because of this the hall was almost empty when Thranduil and the majority of the southern and northern elves entered the castle. A few of them had been left behind with the order to guard the dead in the forest for that no animal could gnaw at their bodies and for that no other creatures could desecrate the corpses.

Aragorn sat down right on the stony floor. He couldn't go any further, he was too exhausted to carry on. The black fogs before his eyes grew stronger and stronger. His head ached terribly and his wounded arm had become cold and numb. A female elf saw him and knelt down right next to him. Pity depressed her fair face. She was a female healer. Gently she touched Aragorn's forehead, then his deep bleeding lesion. The mortal felt her elfish warmth flooding through his limbs and his skin, the mists cleared up a bit and he looked at her, whereupon she just smiled.

"I'll have to stitch up your wound, my Lord", her mild voice said, but Aragorn refused her aid. Where had Legolas been carried to? What had happened to his lover? Fear arouse in his mind and the blackness and his pain returned violently. Aragorn could see the healer's golden hair unprecisely.

"No, take care of Legolas first. He needs your help, not I... please!", he gasped, then he passed out.

A piercing and horrible scream wakened Aragorn. The icy stinging pain he felt made him understand that he was making these anguished cries. He turned his head and opened his eyes, trying to recognize the source of this ache. He was still lying on the floor and the female healer was putting up stitches in his wound. Her focused eyes ignored Aragorn's groans of agony.

"Grit your teeth, I'm almost done", she said quietly and Aragorn nodded.

He noticed his whole body shivered, distracted with pain.

"What's going on with Legolas, your prince?", Aragorn asked in such a concerned tone that it made the female elf smile.

"Others are looking after him. Don't worry, I think he has enough will to live in his heart to survive his injuries."

Both of them kept still for a few moments. The mortal perceived how she applied a bandage around his upper arm.

Out of the corner of his eyes he registered her blood-smeared hands. His blood...

"Done!", she smiled. "Don't fret, you won't be able to use your arm for three or four days. But after that it should heal and you should be able to move it as always. Now, I suggest you get up and find yourself a bed to sleep in for a lot of time."

Slowly Aragorn stood up whereat she helped him when he stumbled.

"Thank you, my lady", he said and bowed to her. She just made a curtsey and walked away to heal others.

As assumed Aragorn couldn't see Legolas or Thranduil in the great royal hall. He guessed the prince was being medicated in his own chamber, so he wend his way into the direction of Legolas' room thoughtfully.

(…)

The day was already descending when Aragorn entered Legolas' room, being tensed up and very tired. He wasn't surprised to find a healer next to Legolas' bed; close beside him Thranduil stood there with a stern face. However, his mien brightened up a bit the moment his eyes met Aragorn's. Mirkwood's king was glad that someone who was a highly valued person for his son hadn't been murdered. So many had died and therefore he was relieved to see the mortal alive and just slightly injured. Thranduil didn't want to bring his son another message of death if he was ever going to wake up.

Sadly he looked down into Legolas' unmoved severe features again and sighed. He couldn't bear and bury another dead son.

Aragorn walked to Legolas' bed in a dream-like manner. Something touched his heart gently and put more weight upon his shoulders when he beheld his gallant. The elf resembled a broken white flower which would never bloom again but which was still pretty to look at. It grieved Aragorn deeply to see his soul mate so weak and so close to death. He knelt down right next to the bed and grabbed the cold hand, the numb fingers, the icy wrist, to hold them carefully in his warm unharmed hand. Legolas' face was grey and motionless. His body had been covered with a lot of thick blankets, and so Aragorn could not see the immortal's wounds, but with his mind's eye he remembered the sight of them nonetheless. Suddenly something attracted Aragorn's attraction when his eyes caught Legolas' chest.

"Why isn't he breathing?", he gasped and stunned: Had he missed something, misunderstood something?

"Don't be frightened. That's just a part of the elfish healing process. He is saving all of his strengths to focus on his cure. He respires only if he must and his body is in the most passive state one could imagine. Let him rest properly and he shall survive his injuries", the male healer replied quietly.

Again Thranduil sighed. He felt like crying and thousand of dreadful memories had come back to occupy his mind. He saw her, Fanya, in her white long dress with her two beautiful sons, playing in the sunlight on a glade, long ago. He heard their clear laughs; their sound mingled in his ears and felt like pure perfection. And now his mental images showed him a ship, sailing far away over the seas. Then he saw Tinwe's grave, and night spread over the forest. Again he looked at Legolas, and a tear escaped his eye and wetted his cheek. An irreparable damage had haunted and wounded Thranduil's heart.

"My Lord, I suggest we leave him for that he might find some repose at last", the healer spoke again, whereupon Thranduil just nodded. Just before they departed Thranduil turned around and smiled at Aragorn mildly.

"Please keep an eye on him", he bid, whereon Aragorn nodded his approval.

Then the door was being shut and silence returned to the dark chamber.

(…)

The grey light of dusk bathed the chamber in a dim light. Moving in silence Aragorn stepped to the windows and looked outside. The forest lay quietly before his eyes, no animal and no elf was visible. Just the trees swayed their twigs in the lukewarm wind. The first silver stars appeared at the firmament and their light touched Aragorn's troubled serious face. Springtime was near, but in his heart the winter still dwelt. He drew the black curtains a bit and walked back to Legolas' bed, shaking off his worries when he laid down right next to him.

Very cautiously he put his wounded arm around Legolas' waist, in apprehension of hurting him, but that turned out to be a baseless fear. The mortal lay on his sane side and beheld his lover's face for a while. Then his head fell down on Legolas' broad shoulder and right there Aragorn fell into a long heavy and dreamless sleep.

When he woke up Legolas hadn't moved or changed a bit. Cloudy daylight brightened the room, but it didn't brighten Aragorn's mood. Slowly he got up and saw garments on a chair which looked alike his. Thanks to an unknown servant they had been brought here before dawn and later Aragorn found that the new and neat clothes suited him perfectly. Now he walked to the bathroom, filled with a certain bitter gloominess inside. There he washed away yesterday's dirt, sweat and blood. By accident his eyes met their reflection the moment he looked into the mirror. His thoughtful mien annoyed the mortal. An inner disturbance distracted him from his painful wound and all other thoughts: He was starting to lose his patience. He wanted to see Legolas alive again, not in this deathlike state. And if the elf had to die he didn't want to wait for his death for days and days. Everything was better than waiting and doing nothing but thinking and mourning and praying. It drove him mad.

This day and the next two days passed without stirring events. In constant unrest Aragorn could not sleep decently. He didn't eat properly, didn't leave Legolas' chamber and didn't talk at all. For hours and hours he paced up and down in the room, up and down, again and again. He was deeply concerned about Legolas' state, but his endless love for the elf disguised his real condition: Legolas was recovering with each passing minute and he had left death far behind already.

Finally it took three days and three nights for Legolas to open his eyes again. It was early in the morning and Aragorn sat up straight on the window's ledge. The light of day covered his dark hair and made his face look younger and free of worries. But the expression in his eyes showed his bitter and grim mood. With caution he put on a new bandage and grimaced in pain when he touched his healing wound gently. He didn't notice Legolas was watching him silently and yearningly. Questions flashed through the immortal's mind.

"Who did that to you, my love?", Legolas' hoarse voice finally asked. Frightened to death Aragorn turned around and astonishment graced his facial features when he realized Legolas was awake at last. Nameless relief flooded through his heart and he walked to Legolas' bed and sat down next to him abstractedly. Alive with joy he reached out his sane hand and touched Legolas' back of the hand, whereupon he stroked it fondly. The mortal was too entranced to give the elf an answer. For a few seconds he just considered his lover's face and the first honest smile in days came to his lips. His longing for the elf grew stronger and stronger, especially when he received a touched smile as an answer to his; then Aragorn leant forward. He bent his head and kissed Legolas' lips blindly and without much thinking. Most satisfied Legolas pressed his mouth against Aragorn's and deepened the kiss again and again. If it was up to him the world could have ended in this small time frame and he wouldn't regret a single thing.

In the end they separated from each other and Legolas' slender fingers met Aragorn's cheek carefully.

"It is a pleasure to see you alive again", Legolas smiled, whereupon Aragorn chuckled.

"That's rich, coming from you. You gave us all a nasty shock."

Lack of knowledge appeared on Legolas' forehead in the form of worry lines.

"You haven't been awake for three days and nights. We thought you had been wounded to death!"

With these words Legolas vivid memories returned to his mind and his sharp blue eyes strayed away from Aragorn.

Thoughtfully he clasped his lover's hand.

"Tell me everything. I'm dying to know what happened... I just remember that I fell to the ground and that I passed out."

And so Aragorn told him all events of the last battle between the southern and the northern elves, how they concluded peace in the end, and how they had been bewitched by Norgas' bad black magic. When he came to Norgas' end and his fight against Thranduil, Aragorn became very wary in the choice of his words. At that point Legolas' closed his lids and his fair face looked the worse for wear. Nevertheless he soon opened them again and gave Aragorn a lovestruck smile.

"It's sad to hear how it all ended, but it turned out well for all living forest dwelling people I guess. I'm just sorrowful that Norgas had changed from a reputable nobleman to a regardless spell caster during the last hundreds of years. Even he used to be a good man a long time ago...", Legolas sighed.

"Anyway, a great evil has left the world and the air of this forest might be easier to breathe for a good while. But many have died, and this is beyond repair and inexcusable... Now, tell me how you have been in the last days. You haven't explained me your injured arm yet. Won't you be able to use it in the future?"

"All is well with me. The wound is healing day after day and soon I'll be able to move it as usual. The only thing which troubled me in the last days and nights was your health, darling", Aragorn smiled cheekily.

A distressed look showed up in Legolas' eyes and he sighed quietly. Without words he brought Aragorn's back of the hand to his lips and kissed it. The young man felt that he blushed; deeply moved he looked to the ground.

"I'm sorry I caused you sorrows... Well, the worst part is over. Forgive my absurd requests, but now that I see every one is doing well... all I want is taking a bath and seeing my father. Could you call the healer? I'd like to know if I can get up already", Legolas smiled and when Aragorn beheld him again he found this sweet smile so contagious that he had to laugh softly.

"As you wish, master", he chuckled and stood up. "I'm going to call for both of them."

(…)

Legolas had to laugh out loudly when he saw how his father stormed into the room. He was followed by a male healer, Aragorn and three servants who carried vessels with hot water. All of these servants bowed to Legolas, then they prepared the bathroom to the prince's delight.

"Are you all right? Do you feel better now? Since when are you awake?", Thranduil asked his son nervously and worried.

Once more Legolas had to laugh and its sound created a strange feeling in Aragorn's heart. It felt like magic to hear these clear and cheerful tones again and it carried off some of his weighty thoughts and misery which would never return again. Secretly he had to smile. He watched how Legolas' grasped his father's hand.

"Don't worry, I think I'm almost safe and sound... depends on this healer's statement", he said musingly.

"I agree to this assumption. His Highness must rest for the next days and mustn't move a lot.

The bandages shall be changed every other day."

"There you go", Legolas smiled at his father, and Aragorn was mostly surprised to see Thranduil smiling back. It seemed to Aragorn as if no atrocities and calamities had agitated the northern Mirkwood's realm in the last few days. Nonetheless his credulity and his hopes hereto were proved to be wrong within the next days.

(...)

The hot water in the bathtub produced silent noises when Legolas moved in it carefully. Again his fingertips touched the surface of the liquid which surrounded his body. Very thoughtfully Aragorn observed his lover's severe facial mien. Time and time again he let his fingers ran through the elf's long blonde and wet hair which the mortal adored. To Legolas it seemed like a consoling gesture and he had to make a bitter smile when the rangy fingers warmed up his cold cheek. The moment Aragorn stroked some wisps of hair out of Legolas face, the immortal sighed melancholic.

"Now, tell me... what's bothering you? It's horrible to see your pretty face so sorrowful", Aragorn winked, whereupon Legolas looked up and right into his partner's eyes.

"Look at me", he said gloomily as if this would explain everything. Aragorn frowned and leaned forward.

"What shall I see or find?"

Embarrassed Legolas turned his head away.

"He has disfigured me... I have this eternal memorial and now I am scarred for life...", the elf whispered sadly.

Immediately Aragorn understood. He saw the unbandaged wound Norgas had given Legolas – the stroke had cut open the skin from the elf's left shoulder to his right hip. The healing wound was still red with dried blood and would leave a great scar upon Legolas' chest. Most carefully Aragorn reached out his hand and his fingertips touched Legolas' injury and followed its way down to his lover's waist.

"That little wound doesn't hurt your beauty at all, my meleth", Aragorn smiled and a thunderbolt of infatuation made his heart beat harshly against his breast when he received Legolas' wondering and fragile soft gaze.

"You know, it's the understatement of the day to say it's a little wound. It's awful... I feel so ugly and blemished. It's like a last curse of Norgas... I can never forget his deeds, just whenever I'll look in the mirror I'll have to remind it all."

Legolas sighed and let his head hang down. Dismal thoughts filled Aragorn's mind as soon as he realized he wasn't capable enough to ease Legolas' pain. However, he crawled closer to the bathtub and kissed Legolas' forehead. He breathed in the elf's soapy clean scent and smiled.

"To me you're still the fairest elf I have ever seen."

It was a great effort for Legolas to uplift his head and to smile a beaming smile at Aragorn. Somehow he sensed it wasn't such a great notion to let the mortal be a part of his childish thoughts and fears. He knew Aragorn still loved him, but somehow the prince feared he wouldn't be wanted any longer with that horrible injury. How could he be desired by the mortal when he looked like this? Again he faked a smile and carried on to play with the lukewarm water. He didn't want to continue thinking and feeling so unnaturally disfigured – he even thought it was better if Aragorn didn't see him in this state at all. On the other hand Legolas didn't want to lose and miss his true love for one second. One more time he sighed. This was going nowhere. He didn't understand his strange and depressed thoughts - and he knew these feelings wouldn't disappear at once.

(…)

After the long and cruel winter spring finally came to Mirkwood. Birds chirped merrily in the green trees and blossoms adorned thousands of twigs with bright colours. Here and there animals ran from one tree-trunk to the other. Often soft rain touched the forest's ground, but more often these days the sky was an endless shade of blue. The sun weakened all sorrows of the elves and lessened their mourning for the dead. It seemed as though peace ultimately immigrated to these lands. The southern elves had returned to their dwellings in the other part of Mirkwood, and they had sworn an oath to pay tribute to Thranduil and to obey his commands for now and for ever. Before long travellers visited each other and soon there was a continual coming and going between the southern and the northern realm.

Legolas had to remain in bed for a few days and Aragorn stayed by his side for all this time. Frequently he sat near the opened window and told Legolas a lot of stories and tales, sometimes deadly serious, sometimes incredibly funny. Whenever Thranduil walked on the floor near to Legolas' room he heard his son's vivid laughs and then he felt at peace inside. Aragorn was glad to see his beloved heal with each passing day and both of them were most contended to hold each other at night. But somehow Aragorn noticed a slight change: Legolas and he kissed and cuddled and hugged and caressed each other as usual, but the elf didn't let him touch his chest any longer. In fact there were kisses and embraces, but nothing more these days. And from time to time the mortal saw a strange and sad look in the elf's eyes, and he never dared to ask because he knew the immortal didn't want to talk about it, whatever it was. It was odd to see that everybody seemed to heal except for Legolas.

When the time had finally arrived Legolas was allowed to stand up and move normally. Still he was going very cautiously, always aware of his large wound. Aragorn woke up this morning and found himself all alone in the elf's bed. He wondered where his gallant had disappeared to and got up. Silently he washed and dressed himself and by coincidence he stared out of the great windows. Bright daylight greeted his face and his tired eyes captured the sight of an elf walking slowly from tree to tree. He realized it was Legolas who was taking a stroll in the forest, all by himself and unnaturally bemused, as it seemed. "Maybe he's just happy about the springtime and to be able to walk around for a while", Aragorn thought and he decided to leave the elf alone. It must have been horrible for a nature loving being to be bound to his bed - thanks to his illness – when all plants and animals were awaking from their winter sleep. So it came that Aragorn spent his day alone. He walked around in the castle and learned a lot when he found the royal library to which he had the admission to enter. Also he talked to some elves he met in the hallways and he got the news how and where all dead elves had been buried and burned. It was in the evening when Aragorn returned to Legolas chamber. Surprisingly he didn't meet his lover in his room, the chamber was deserted and unlighted. Disappointment spread in the mortal's heart and he lay down in the large bed, feeling mostly unhappy and left behind. Where had Legolas gone to? Why hadn't he sought his room to meet Aragorn? Sadly Aragorn closed his eyes and tried to sleep, and of course he miserably failed in his attempts. In his fitful sleep dreams about the elf haunted him and when he woke up in the middle of the night he was bewildered to recognize he was still all by himself. Where in all the world was his lover?

To be continued...

Alright, alright. So I lied! I didn't want to write such a gloomy chapter again, but, oh well, the next one will be more cheerful, and this won't be a lie! Dammit! Hm... I guess I should tell you now that this story might end within the next or the next two chapters... but maybe there's going to be a sequel, just so that you all know! Anyhow, waiting for your reviews *hint * Until then... Yours, Mistofstars!