Minutes later he reached the stream, the pack containing all of his
clothing hanging from his arm. Legolas was sitting on a large rock in the
middle of the stream, his thin shoes beside him as he dangled his bare feet
in the water. His eyes were closed and his face was turned upwards towards
the sun that could just be seen peeping through the tree boughs. The sight
of the Elf sitting there, at total peace with the world, was an
exceptionally beautiful one, and it was an image Aragorn carried with him
till the end of his days, drawing hope and a feeling of serenity from it.
The Elf paid him no mind as he set his pack down and began pulling his filthy clothes out of it. Every now and then he glanced up at Legolas, but there was no response. With a shrug, he began washing his clothing in the clean, cool water.
Finally he couldn't take the silence any longer. Though he would look back on the silence and peace and feel comforted in the future, he was still a young man at that time and grew impatient with silence, especially when he was doing a menial task that left his mind free to wander.
"Would you really bed me?" he asked.
The green eyes remained closed, but Legolas did reply, "No."
"Because I'm in love with another?"
"Because you're not my type."
"Oh? Why not? What is your type?"
"Immortal."
"Oh," Aragorn replied lamely, turning his attention back to his clothing. Being young, and of a line that lived for an extremely long time, Aragorn never gave much thought to his mortality, or to the immortality of the woman he loved. That may well prove to be a problem.
Yet how could he not pursue her? She was easily the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, with dark hair and glowing eyes. And her voice…Oh, how he had loved her singing! That long ago afternoon he had sat for hours as she sang to him in the peace of the glade outside his home city. Perhaps he seemed shallow, to only be able to describe her as beautiful, but deep down he knew there was more to this love than physical attraction.
"I know what you're thinking about," a lazy voice interrupted his thoughts. "I can tell by the little crease in your forehead."
"Then what am I thinking?"
"Worry not, my friend. I have seen enough love in my life to know when I see one half of a bonded couple."
"Bonded couple?" Aragorn inquired, pulling his shirt out of the stream and laying it on a convenient boulder with his other clothes.
"Soul mates."
"Elves have those?"
Legolas looked offended. "Of course! For every soul in existence, there is one perfect match out there somewhere. Also, there are many souls that have much in common with the soul mate, and so serve as a temporary bedmate."
"Can an Elf and a Man be soul mates?"
Sadness crept into the green eyes. "Indeed they can, and it was through a relationship of that sort that the most beautiful of all Elven women passed out of the world."
"Did you know her?"
Legolas laughed. "Certainly not! That was all long before I was born. Why, that all took place before even Lord Elrond was born! I just know of it from the songs, and I share in the mourning of all of my people."
"You think she and I are soul mates?"
The Elf sprang from his perch, shoes in hand, and waded through the shallow stream until he reached the bank, and settled onto the grass next to Aragorn. "Trust me on this one."
Liking the idea very much, Aragorn smiled at him. "I think I will. Do you think she knows?"
"I'm sure she does. We Elves are much more perceptive about these things than you foolish Men."
"You're racist!" Aragorn exclaimed. Legolas just shrugged and smiled arrogantly at him. In retaliation, Aragorn balled up the shirt he had been washing, the last one he had to do, and hit Legolas with it across the chest.
"Hey!" Legolas squawked indignantly, and before Aragorn could react, he shoved him into the stream.
Not only was the shirt he was wearing too short, now it was wet as well.
The Elf paid him no mind as he set his pack down and began pulling his filthy clothes out of it. Every now and then he glanced up at Legolas, but there was no response. With a shrug, he began washing his clothing in the clean, cool water.
Finally he couldn't take the silence any longer. Though he would look back on the silence and peace and feel comforted in the future, he was still a young man at that time and grew impatient with silence, especially when he was doing a menial task that left his mind free to wander.
"Would you really bed me?" he asked.
The green eyes remained closed, but Legolas did reply, "No."
"Because I'm in love with another?"
"Because you're not my type."
"Oh? Why not? What is your type?"
"Immortal."
"Oh," Aragorn replied lamely, turning his attention back to his clothing. Being young, and of a line that lived for an extremely long time, Aragorn never gave much thought to his mortality, or to the immortality of the woman he loved. That may well prove to be a problem.
Yet how could he not pursue her? She was easily the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, with dark hair and glowing eyes. And her voice…Oh, how he had loved her singing! That long ago afternoon he had sat for hours as she sang to him in the peace of the glade outside his home city. Perhaps he seemed shallow, to only be able to describe her as beautiful, but deep down he knew there was more to this love than physical attraction.
"I know what you're thinking about," a lazy voice interrupted his thoughts. "I can tell by the little crease in your forehead."
"Then what am I thinking?"
"Worry not, my friend. I have seen enough love in my life to know when I see one half of a bonded couple."
"Bonded couple?" Aragorn inquired, pulling his shirt out of the stream and laying it on a convenient boulder with his other clothes.
"Soul mates."
"Elves have those?"
Legolas looked offended. "Of course! For every soul in existence, there is one perfect match out there somewhere. Also, there are many souls that have much in common with the soul mate, and so serve as a temporary bedmate."
"Can an Elf and a Man be soul mates?"
Sadness crept into the green eyes. "Indeed they can, and it was through a relationship of that sort that the most beautiful of all Elven women passed out of the world."
"Did you know her?"
Legolas laughed. "Certainly not! That was all long before I was born. Why, that all took place before even Lord Elrond was born! I just know of it from the songs, and I share in the mourning of all of my people."
"You think she and I are soul mates?"
The Elf sprang from his perch, shoes in hand, and waded through the shallow stream until he reached the bank, and settled onto the grass next to Aragorn. "Trust me on this one."
Liking the idea very much, Aragorn smiled at him. "I think I will. Do you think she knows?"
"I'm sure she does. We Elves are much more perceptive about these things than you foolish Men."
"You're racist!" Aragorn exclaimed. Legolas just shrugged and smiled arrogantly at him. In retaliation, Aragorn balled up the shirt he had been washing, the last one he had to do, and hit Legolas with it across the chest.
"Hey!" Legolas squawked indignantly, and before Aragorn could react, he shoved him into the stream.
Not only was the shirt he was wearing too short, now it was wet as well.
