AUTHOR'S NOTES: Okay…so…I did this in January and truly meant to leave it alone. That was my ending. But I'm back to see if I can make it a little more…substantial and meaningful and…nicer.
FEEDBACK: Is ambrosia
DEDICATION: Kenneth Branagh (love his Hamlet)
ALL THOUGHTS IN "…" AND EMPHASIS IN *…*
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Chapter Two
Conquer, rule, master. Aragorn blazed with his intent. His dark gaze fastened on Legolas. The ethereal creature just stood there, calmly looking back. The eager breeze sifted through the elf's open hair, raised Aragorn's skin to goose - flesh.
Shuddering, Strider closed his eyes. Here he stood, so very close to a release for the irrational rage, and he knew not where to begin. How does one touch an elf *this elf* with the intention to bruise? He doubted if he could.
The way back meant marching onward in his disillusionment and anger. Meant forfeiting the gift of Legolas in all his acceptance. Aragorn could not retreat. Neither could he go forward. Would it not make him more of a flawed man: to hurt one that he had actually called friend?
Legolas moved closer. Movement following whisper-soft movement, until he seemed to chrystalize before Aragorn, silver-laced blue eyes startling in the quiet night.
Aragorn felt he owed him something, some further explanation. Even though the elf probably knew precisely what he felt.
"Sometimes…" began the ranger, breaking off in surprise at the unexpected gruffness of his voice. Aragorn made another attempt.
"Sometimes I suffer from a fleeting insanity. . ." It was the only way he knew to explain himself and what he had almost done.
Legolas' lips rose impishly at the corners in a rare and teasing smile that most never glimpsed.
"I know that well enough!" laughed the elfin prince, before he grew serious again. He looked intently at Aragorn.
In his mind's eye, the ranger imagined the elf pierced through his flesh and cast his pure spirit forth to examine the dark turmoil of Aragorn's soul. Aragorn did not want him there. To touch an elf was an amazing feat, but to sully their essence was a dire crime. The ranger silently willed the elf to look away, before Legolas found something in the man that perhaps he should not see.
"This is not insane, my friend." Said Legolas quietly. Aragorn shut his eyes against the lilting words, but they still shot through to the core of him much like the arrows of the fair marksman. Legolas continued gently…
"This is… natural."
And the elf stepped forward - sure-footed as always - and kissed the ranger like a whisper of redemption. Inside of Aragorn, something broke.
FEEDBACK: Is ambrosia
DEDICATION: Kenneth Branagh (love his Hamlet)
ALL THOUGHTS IN "…" AND EMPHASIS IN *…*
____________________________________________
Chapter Two
Conquer, rule, master. Aragorn blazed with his intent. His dark gaze fastened on Legolas. The ethereal creature just stood there, calmly looking back. The eager breeze sifted through the elf's open hair, raised Aragorn's skin to goose - flesh.
Shuddering, Strider closed his eyes. Here he stood, so very close to a release for the irrational rage, and he knew not where to begin. How does one touch an elf *this elf* with the intention to bruise? He doubted if he could.
The way back meant marching onward in his disillusionment and anger. Meant forfeiting the gift of Legolas in all his acceptance. Aragorn could not retreat. Neither could he go forward. Would it not make him more of a flawed man: to hurt one that he had actually called friend?
Legolas moved closer. Movement following whisper-soft movement, until he seemed to chrystalize before Aragorn, silver-laced blue eyes startling in the quiet night.
Aragorn felt he owed him something, some further explanation. Even though the elf probably knew precisely what he felt.
"Sometimes…" began the ranger, breaking off in surprise at the unexpected gruffness of his voice. Aragorn made another attempt.
"Sometimes I suffer from a fleeting insanity. . ." It was the only way he knew to explain himself and what he had almost done.
Legolas' lips rose impishly at the corners in a rare and teasing smile that most never glimpsed.
"I know that well enough!" laughed the elfin prince, before he grew serious again. He looked intently at Aragorn.
In his mind's eye, the ranger imagined the elf pierced through his flesh and cast his pure spirit forth to examine the dark turmoil of Aragorn's soul. Aragorn did not want him there. To touch an elf was an amazing feat, but to sully their essence was a dire crime. The ranger silently willed the elf to look away, before Legolas found something in the man that perhaps he should not see.
"This is not insane, my friend." Said Legolas quietly. Aragorn shut his eyes against the lilting words, but they still shot through to the core of him much like the arrows of the fair marksman. Legolas continued gently…
"This is… natural."
And the elf stepped forward - sure-footed as always - and kissed the ranger like a whisper of redemption. Inside of Aragorn, something broke.