Malthenpeg

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Author's Notes: I'm going to be taking some general liberties (and a few major ones) on LotR as this goes along. The characters, at least their appearances, are based more upon the movie than the books.

Hope you like it!

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ONE

The song of the birds waking in the trees heralded the dawn in the forest. The hobbits, as usual, were slow to rise; all of them still deep in slumber. The rest of the Fellowship allowed them this small luxury, taking a moment to enjoy the woodland morning.

Aragorn felt oddly at peace with himself. Perhaps it was some sense of calm before the storm... there was a long way to go before Mordor, and only the sun and moon knew what was to become of the Fellowship.
He listened to the birdsong, pushing the worry from his heart and mind. It was beautiful, magic-touched, in this part of the woods. Soft and sweet, and oddly... His ears picked out the slight difference between birdsong and elfsong. Not always easy, but for one used to the singing voices...
He followed the lilting voice through the willows to the edge of a small lake fed by a spring. He had wondered where Legolas had slipped off.
The elven prince moved as gracefully in the water as he did on snow, barely rippling the surface as he swam. He dove beneath the glassy plane, then rose again with the elegant motions of seafolk. Many aspects of the lives of wood-elves Aragorn had the pleasure of observing, but up until the moment bathing in forest pools was not one of them.
Legolas swam over to the bank nearest Aragorn, where his clothes and weapons lay neatly piled, and pulled himself up onto a stone. Again, he evoked visions of the oceanfae as he sat, legs tucked neatly beneath him, combing out his fine, if damp, hair, mithral silver flashing through suntouched gold. Aragorn could not suppress a smile at the sight. Legolas, oblivious to all but the delightful kiss of the warm, drying sun on his pale, bare flesh, began to sing. Aragorn's ears translated the sweet Sindarin language instantly, even as his mind became enraptured.

"I can feel the grass grow through the boots on my feet
I can feel the land's age in each tree that I meet
The flowers rejoice in a dance slow as time
There is poetry sung in a fern's sunward climb

The land's very heart is revealed through her trees
In the spring she weeps emerald, in autumn she bleeds
In summer she casts back the cloak winter lays
And grows green in the sun through her long summer days

I dance with the trees as they gnarl and climb
Take their rough hands in mine as they blossom and twine
With the trees I find peace such as no one else knows
As they whisper their dreams where the forest wind blows

Oh teach me to stand strong but to bend with the breeze
Teach me the patience that nurtures each leaf
Like a tree I'll be calm and I'll live without strife
In the wisdom of beauty and greenness and life"

Aragorn had never heard the song before, but he supposed there were many among the elves that he had not. It was beautiful nonetheless. Legolas continued to trill the melody as he turned to retrieve his brush to finish grooming his nearly dry hair, turning has back to the human.
Aragorn gasped and stumbled in the bushes at what he saw, immediately catching the attention of the sharp-eared elf. Legolas' motion was a blur of pale colors, and in a blink he stood with his bow drawn and aimed at the trees. He looked a marble sculpture of a hunter, flesh white in the early light. He lowered the arrow as Aragorn walked out of the foliage.
"You of all should be wise enough to not startle an elf," he chided gently. Aragorn did not answer, just continued to advance upon him, "Aragorn, what..?" Heavy human hands on his shoulders, swirling him around to expose his back. So, he had seen...
"What is this? What have you done?" One hand ran down the elf's spine, over the markings there. They began as small thumbprint-spots just between his shoulderblades, and spread down to rosettes at the base of his spine and across his buttocks, all of them a dark gold.
"I do not understand why you should be so upset over a simple tattoo." Nervous deception tangled around the elf's words, easily heard by even the daftest of humans.
"The one thing elves do not do well is lie. This is no tattoo, you know that as well as I. When did you do this? Not during this quest, I assume." There was distinct anger and concern in Aragorn's voice.
"Long ago, perhaps before you ever walked this earth, I cannot remember exactly. What concern is it of yours?" The elf returned only anger and annoyance, trying to pull away from the human who held him with abnormal strength about the shoulders.
"It is my concern that my elven companion has performed the Rite of Tad'ail. You know that it is a forbidden ritual."

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The Song is "With the Trees" by Julia Ecklar (one of my favorite Filkers!) from the Walkabout album