Disclaimer: I don't own anything.
Please, please review
A/N: Set five years after the last chapter. I decided to make Aragorn in his 30's for FOTR. This is alternate universe, so don't flame. But, I do think it is kind of gross to put perfect, beautiful Legolas with a 87 years old guy !! So I am NOT going to do it!!
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Chapter 9: Reunion
Strider had been waiting at the Prancing Pony for two days. Gandalf had not yet arrived. It was not like the wizard to be late, and the ranger was concerned for his safety. He watched as four hobbits walked into the room. Three of them were child-like in their innocence as they sang, danced and drank with the crowd. The last one however was quiet and apprehensive. His wide blue eyes betrayed a fear that he could not hide. Strider knew without a doubt that he was the Ring Bearer. That fear could only be brought on by one thing; the hobbit must have already had his first encounter with the Ringwraiths. They could no longer wait for Gandalf.
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Hooves of a great white horse thundered in the splashing rain. As if sensing the urgency of the rider, the horse had quickened its strides. They were only half an hour from Bree. The masked rider could only hoped that he was not too late.
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He could not believe his eyes when the Ring Bearer slipped on the One Ring by accident and disappeared. As soon as he reappeared, Strider caught him by the arm and dragged him upstairs into his room.
"You draw far too much attention to yourself, Mr. Underhill. It was no mere trinket you carry," Strider said as he put out the candles in the room. He knew the Wraiths had sensed the power of the One and were coming. He must find a way to evade them without a fight. On his own, he might be able to fend off the Nazgûl, but he could not do so while protecting four unarmed Hobbits.
"I carry nothing," the hobbit said unconvincingly.
"Good, you are frightened, but not nearly frightened enough. I know what it is that hunts you," the ranger had moved closer to the hobbit, intending to scare some sense into him.
That was when the door burst open. The other three hobbits armed with a frying pan, a stool and a candlestick rushed in. "I will have you, Longshanks!" yelled the sandy blond one.
Strider would have laughed if the circumstances had been different. He was about to speak his reassurances when he felt the sudden chill in the air within the inn. The Wraiths have arrived and they were trapped.
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The ranger yelled at the hobbits to get behind him, which they all very swiftly complied. Nine tall figures dressed in black armor and cloaks began to enter the room. With their blades drawn, they formed a semi circle as they advanced on Strider. The man knew there were too many to fight in such a confined space; but he would die trying to protect the Ring Bearer.
At the moment before the Wraiths reached him, a brilliant light exploded in the room. The Nine screamed in pain and Strider felt a familiar hand on his arm.
"Come on, we don't have all day!" urged a voice he knew so well, a voice he had thought he would never hear again.
With the Wraiths still blinded and immobilized by the light, the hobbits and ranger quickly followed the hooded figure out of the room and into the winding streets of Bree.
Strider knew that he should be paying attention to their surroundings, but his rebellious senses decided to study his mentor instead. An old grey cloak covered the Elf's lithe, desirable body. He wore it with the hood drawn over his head, offering some small protection from the downpour. The ranger found himself missing the sight of his mentor's golden hair, which was concealed under the hood. In fact, he could barely see the mask that covered Shadow's face and the shining azure eyes, ever so watchful of their surroundings. The rain had dampened his mentor's orchid scent somewhat, but at this close range, with Shadow's hand still linked to his arm, he could detect a trace of the soothingly seductive scent. The grip on his arm was strong, slender fingers hiding the true strength of the Elf. The contact was radiating heat, sending warmth down the ranger's body in the cold wet night.
Stop it, Aragorn. You know that this feeling is inappropriate since you are attached to Arwen now. You love her and you will marry her. With the iron resolve that he had spent years building, Strider pushed the thought of his mentor aside and returned to scanning the surroundings for signs of danger.
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Shadow's pace was quick; Aragorn had to keep glancing behind to make sure the hobbits were keeping up. They traveled in silence throughout the night in the rising storm. At first light, they had reached boundaries of the forest of Imladris. The ranger could see that the Hobbits were hungry and tired. They could not continue for long. He wished they had not fled the town in such a hurry; Strider had not have the time to prepare supplies for their long track to Rivendell through the wild. As things were now, he must stop and hunt for food daily if his information on Hobbits' eating habits were true, which would slow their journey considerably.
"Shadow, we must stop. The little ones cannot continue. They need food and rest. Please watch over them as I go hunt."
Without a word, his mentor turned and whistled. After a few moments, the sound of a horse approaching their camp filled the company's ears. Aragorn could not help tensing and putting his hand on Anduril's hilt until he saw that the intruder was a rider-less white horse, with a few packs attached to its saddle. It stopped a little in front of Shadow and put his head against the elf's chest. His mentor gently patted it and sang to it softly for a while before gathering the packs from the horse's saddle.
As he watched the play between Shadow and the horse, the sadness of being separated from the Elf struck him hard. He wanted so much for Shadow to sing for him and stroke his hair as he once did.
Stupid man, you are jealous of a horse!! Aragorn mentally reprimanded himself.
Even as he reminded himself that he loved Arwen now, a part of his heart knew the Elf maiden could never truly take Shadow's place. Whenever he had doubts, the Lady would comfort him with gentle encouraging words. But he knew Arwen had been protected all her life. How could she know that Aragorn would be able to defeat the darkness he faced when she did not even have a concept of evil? It was not the same with Shadow, who had seen the worst of human nature. Despite that, his mentor still believed in him, in his strength and goodness.
Part of him wanted so much to tell the Elf how he truly felt, but he knew he would not tempt fate, even if he were not attached to Arwen. After these five years, he could finally see his love again; he would not risk pushing him away so soon.
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Legolas walked over to join the man and hobbits after retrieving his packs from Lightening. He had a dream two weeks ago that Estel was in danger. It was much like the one he had 5000 years ago about Arameius. Since he did not wish to use his magic where his love was concerned, he had traveled to Lothlorien to consult the Lady Galadriel. As soon as he found out the man was headed for Bree to meet Gandalf and escort the Ring Bearer to Rivendell, he knew that was where the danger laid.
He had guessed they would need a hasty escape since he would rather not battle the Nazgûl inside the city. There were too many people in Bree and the chances of innocent bystanders getting hurt were too great. The Ringwraiths might unleash their anger at the townsfolk after the battle if the Elf fought them there. It was much better to draw them from the city before a confrontation, so Legolas had prepared for the occasion.
He had left Lightening outside the city and asked the horse to wait for him at the edge of the forest. He also had brought food enough for a month's journey for four. He had heard of the legendary appetites of the hobbits and did not wish the Ring Bearer to go hungry.
In anticipation of the inevitable battle with the Nazgûl, he brought his weapons from his days as Prince of Greenwood. His twin knives, named Maldalaïsse, a gift from the smiths of Eregion from times before the forging of the Great Rings. They were made especially for him in honor of his beauty and light; enchanted weapons that only he could wield, Golden Leaves for the Golden Prince. They could penetrate through a Wraith's darkness to wound them temporarily. He was sure that the Ringwraiths would hesitate to attack the company again once they had a taste of his blades. He thought himself completely in control of the situation and ready for what lied ahead, but he was wrong.
What he did not prepare for was how positively captivating Estel had become. He was so distracted by the Man's presence that he could barely keep his concentration to cast the immobilization spell on the Nazgûl. It was not that Estel's appearance had changed much during the past five years. Except for the manly stumbles overgrowing his strong sculpted jaw, Estel did not look that difference.
It was the Man's aura that enchanted Legolas. The nobility and courage that shone through his steely grey eyes when he faced the Ringwraiths, the kindness and thoughtfulness as he regarded the Hobbits and the quiet authority in his voice as the Man spoke to him; these kept the Crown Prince of Greenwood spellbound under Aragorn's own brand of magic. The Elf had no doubt the Man was a great leader whom any follower would gladly die for.
Concentrate, Legolas!! You are here only to protect Estel and the Hobbits, nothing more. The man has Arwen now. Legolas thought as he handed some dried fruits and meats to Aragorn.
"There is no need to hunt. I have sufficient food for our journey. Please help yourselves to as much as you like. We cannot linger here long though. We need to put more distance between us and the city," the elf said as he pushed back his hood to reveal his golden hair and masked face. He took a seat next to the Hobbits and handed them a whole bagful of food.
The Hobbits did not seem at all concerned about his appearance. At the promise of food, the Elf could see the Hobbits' eyes lit up. He had thought they would be more suspicious, given their previous experience with the Wraiths; but happily chewing on some sweet dried mango that Legolas had obtained from Lothlorien, the Halflings looked like content children. The Elf made a mental note to protect these little ones as much as he could.
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Aragorn's mind was not on food or the Hobbits. His eyes kept wandering back to Shadow, who sat next the Halflings. It hurt that his mentor had chosen to sit with the little ones instead of him. Could it be that the Elf was still uncomfortable around him after his little display of affections five years ago?
The Hobbits, after their bellies were somewhat satisfied, looked up at the mysterious hooded figure. Sam noticed immediately that the stranger had pointy ears and cried excitedly, "You're an Elf!! I finally get to meet an elf. I am sorry Master Elf for our poor manners. I am Sam, this is my Master, Frodo."
Pippin, who did not wished to be left out of the introductions, chimed in. "I am Pippin, my friends called me Pip. I am a cousin of Frodo, twice removed on his mother's side.."
Merry elbowed the younger Hobbit lightly in the stomach and said with a smile, "I don't think he wants to know your entire lineage, Pip. I am Meriadoc Brandybuck, you can call me Merry."
Legolas could feel four pairs of eyes scrutinizing him, well, actually five. He felt the intense heat of Estel's gaze a while ago, ever since he had taken his seat with the Hobbits. He knew the little ones expected him to introduce himself and were probably curious as to why he wore a mask. The Elf was trying to make up some answer when Aragorn came to his rescue.
"This is my mentor, Shadow. He taught me all that I know." His reply was short and curt. His tone and expression clearly indicating that he wished the Hobbits to drop the subject. Though the Halflings were innocent in the ways of the world, they could sense that Strider was not one to be trifled with. Since they would have to depend on their companion for protection on their journey, they thought it best to remain in good terms with the Man so they averted their gazes and returned to their meal.
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Legolas saw the exchange and felt bad that he was the cause of the unease between the Man and Hobbits. He needed a strategy to defuse the tension, but his mind refused to function properly with Estel so close and staring at him. He needed to get away and clear his head.
"I will go refill the water skins," making up a random excuse to leave their camp.
Legolas found Lightening in a small clearing of the forest. Seeing Aragorn again had brought his pain and grief close to the surface and it was taking most of his powers just to keep it from destroying him. The Elf knew he needed the quiet company of something familiar to soothe his aching heart. He and Lightening had grown very close during their journey from Lothlorien. The Lady of the Woods was kind enough to give him the horse for his journey to Bree. As soon as the horse saw him, it ran towards him and pressed his nose against his chest. The Elf stroke the horse tenderly and pulled from his pockets some dried carrot treats. Though his friend was just a horse, Legolas was glad he was not alone.
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The elf's excuse did not fool Aragorn. He knew his mentor was uncomfortable in their company and was afraid that Shadow would slip away without a word. He asked the Hobbits to wait at the camp and followed the Elf.
He found his mentor in a small clearing with the horse. Once again, he found himself wishing for his mentor's soft gentle touch, despite his repeated mental chants of being in love with Arwen. At that moment, Shadow raised his head and turned towards him.
"You have improved, Estel. I did not hear you until you were thirty yards away," complimented the elf.
"If I have improved, you would not hear me at all," complained a slightly embarrassed Aragorn. He could even surprise his foster brothers, but apparently, there was no hiding from Shadow.
Shadow laughed. It was the same musical laughter, only now it was tinted with a trace of sadness that broke Aragorn's heart. His mentor deserved to be happy; the Elf was the most wonderful person he had ever met. The sadness spoke of a carefully concealed vulnerability; it aroused a protective urge in Aragorn that he had not known. His mentor had always been there to protect him. He had loved the Elf for it, but now he wanted more. He wanted to be a shelter for Shadow as much as his mentor was his light.
Stop dreaming, Isildur's heir. Weakness runs in your blood. You could not protect yourself, least say Shadow.
Aragorn shook his head at that thought. Ever since the One Ring had reappeared, his mind had been plagued with doubts. He tried hard to cling to Shadow's faith in him, but it had been very difficult, without the Elf there by his side. He needed some proof of his strength. He would prove to himself that he could protect the one he cared for most.
"Would you like to spar with me? I had not really had a good match for five years," requested the Man.
Legolas looked at the ranger questioningly. He heard again the quiet authority in Aragorn's tone and knew it was not as much a request as a demand.
But why? Whatever the reason, it would not hurt for me to access how good Estel had become, thought the Elf as he reached for the training swords on Lightening's saddle.
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Legolas was surprised at the ferocity of the Man's attacks. He had been forced on the defensive since the beginning of their match. He had to marvel at Aragorn's strength. The powers of his blows were astounding. Coupled with his quick footwork and vast knowledge of techniques, the Man was definitely the best swordsman Legolas had ever fought. Whenever their swords crossed, the Elf had to step back to stop his own sword from being slammed into his body or switched balance to avoid losing grip on his sword.
Legolas had originally hoped to outlast the Man with his greater agility and endurance, but Aragorn had shown no signs of tiring after numerous rounds of attacks. The Elf knew he must switch to the offensive soon before his arms got too tired from blocking those powerful strikes.
Swords were not Legolas' weapons on choice, their fighting style not best suited for his slight frame. But he knew it would be the ideal weapon for Estel; so every since he started teaching the boy fifteen years ago, he had fought exclusively with it, except at times when he used his bow. He wanted Estel to be able to learn by observation as well as instruction. However, as he blocked yet another slash from his former apprentice, he was beginning to wish that he was using his preferred weapons instead.
The Elf decided to try one of the final techniques of the Ancient Arts, the one he had taught Estel how to defeat as a boy. After all, this was a test of Aragorn's abilities. He charged the Man but instead of thrusting, he leapt back and spun right with lightening speed, prepared to slash at Aragorn's side.
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Aragorn could not believe that he was actually winning. He noticed Shadow's slight grimace when the Elf blocked his last attack. As he saw his mentor rushed him, he knew the Elf was going to use his favorite move. He waited and bade his time, hoping to defeat Shadow the way he had Glorfindel five years ago. As his mentor twisted, he swung his sword to strike the Elf's unprotected left. As Aragorn watched the edge of his training sword approached his mentor's side, his mind was ready to scream with the joy of victory.
But that was not to be. Right before the moment of impact, his mentor released his sword so that he could back-flip over the Man's blade. In a fluid motion swifter than the eye could see, the Elf stepped behind Aragorn, shoving him forward while kicking the Man's legs out from under him. Aragorn fell forward onto the ground in a loud thud and his mentor's sword to his neck before he could even turn.
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"You are amazing, Estel. I think you are the best swordsman in Middle Earth," said Shadow, smiling, as he removed his sword from the Man's neck and offered him a hand up.
Aragorn glared at him and his outstretched hand. The Man knew he had tried his best and it still was not good enough .. and that hurt. "You have defeated me. Why must you mock me so?"
Shadow's smile disappeared. His expression had turned serious and sad. As was his custom, the Elf's gaze bore into Aragorn's eyes before he continued, "I am not mocking you, Estel. I did not beat you at all. In a sparring match, a fighter loses as soon as he loses his sword. You know this. I dropped my sword so I could evade your attack, which means that the match was yours."
Aragorn opened his mouth to begin to argue, but the Elf knelt over him and silenced him with a gentle finger on his lips.
"All your life you had people piled their expectations on you. Because of it, you set such a high standard for yourself that no one on the entire Middle Earth could possibly achieve. Remember when I first met you I told you that you should doubt your instructors not yourself for your lack of skills; it is the same thing here. Maybe you should doubt your standards, not your abilities. You won this match fairly, by the rules; and yet you are not satisfied because it was not a flawless victory. Why can't you just be happy with what you have? How can you be so blind to the goodness in you?"
Sadness emanated from Legolas. Seeing Estel torture himself with his self- doubts was almost as excruciating as the pain of his unrequited love. He had thought that the Lady Arwen would take care of the Man in his absence; but he was wrong and Estel had suffered because of it. Tears were threatening to form, and he must leave before they subdued his resistance. The Man had been hurt enough, without the added burden of his grief and pain.
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Aragorn was speechless. Not so much from the suggestive position they were in, but from the depth of the faith and trust Shadow had for him. How he missed it for the past five years. That was when he noticed the glistening in his mentor's eyes. He wondered if they were tears. But why?
He felt Shadow shifted and prepared to rise. His hands, through volition of their own, moved to his mentor's hips, gently trying to hold the Elf to him. Aragorn's mind was blank, except for the need to keep Shadow with him. He heard his mentor gasped in surprise at the gentle touch, but did not jerk away as the Man expected. Aragorn took that as an encouraging sign and sat up so that his face was only inches from Shadow's. Their eyes locked once more, for the first time, the Elf's gaze was completely unguarded. Aragorn could see the love and painful longing in those moist sapphire beauties, a perfect reflection of his own emotions. As if in a trance, they both leant closer to share their love's first kiss.
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I am aware that Anduril does not exist yet in this point in time in the book or movie verse. But since this is A/U, please bare with me that Narsil had already been reforged into Anduril for Aragorn =) Sorry, I like that sword...
I bow to every author who puts Elvish in their text. Took me a whole hour just to figure out how to say golden leaves in Sindarin. It's Old Sindarin, I think since Maldalaïsse sounds much better than it would have in Classic Sindarin. And even then, I have to put multiple sources together and deduce what the term was... So I am apologizing in advance if it's not entirely correct..
Please, please review
A/N: Set five years after the last chapter. I decided to make Aragorn in his 30's for FOTR. This is alternate universe, so don't flame. But, I do think it is kind of gross to put perfect, beautiful Legolas with a 87 years old guy !! So I am NOT going to do it!!
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Chapter 9: Reunion
Strider had been waiting at the Prancing Pony for two days. Gandalf had not yet arrived. It was not like the wizard to be late, and the ranger was concerned for his safety. He watched as four hobbits walked into the room. Three of them were child-like in their innocence as they sang, danced and drank with the crowd. The last one however was quiet and apprehensive. His wide blue eyes betrayed a fear that he could not hide. Strider knew without a doubt that he was the Ring Bearer. That fear could only be brought on by one thing; the hobbit must have already had his first encounter with the Ringwraiths. They could no longer wait for Gandalf.
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Hooves of a great white horse thundered in the splashing rain. As if sensing the urgency of the rider, the horse had quickened its strides. They were only half an hour from Bree. The masked rider could only hoped that he was not too late.
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He could not believe his eyes when the Ring Bearer slipped on the One Ring by accident and disappeared. As soon as he reappeared, Strider caught him by the arm and dragged him upstairs into his room.
"You draw far too much attention to yourself, Mr. Underhill. It was no mere trinket you carry," Strider said as he put out the candles in the room. He knew the Wraiths had sensed the power of the One and were coming. He must find a way to evade them without a fight. On his own, he might be able to fend off the Nazgûl, but he could not do so while protecting four unarmed Hobbits.
"I carry nothing," the hobbit said unconvincingly.
"Good, you are frightened, but not nearly frightened enough. I know what it is that hunts you," the ranger had moved closer to the hobbit, intending to scare some sense into him.
That was when the door burst open. The other three hobbits armed with a frying pan, a stool and a candlestick rushed in. "I will have you, Longshanks!" yelled the sandy blond one.
Strider would have laughed if the circumstances had been different. He was about to speak his reassurances when he felt the sudden chill in the air within the inn. The Wraiths have arrived and they were trapped.
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The ranger yelled at the hobbits to get behind him, which they all very swiftly complied. Nine tall figures dressed in black armor and cloaks began to enter the room. With their blades drawn, they formed a semi circle as they advanced on Strider. The man knew there were too many to fight in such a confined space; but he would die trying to protect the Ring Bearer.
At the moment before the Wraiths reached him, a brilliant light exploded in the room. The Nine screamed in pain and Strider felt a familiar hand on his arm.
"Come on, we don't have all day!" urged a voice he knew so well, a voice he had thought he would never hear again.
With the Wraiths still blinded and immobilized by the light, the hobbits and ranger quickly followed the hooded figure out of the room and into the winding streets of Bree.
Strider knew that he should be paying attention to their surroundings, but his rebellious senses decided to study his mentor instead. An old grey cloak covered the Elf's lithe, desirable body. He wore it with the hood drawn over his head, offering some small protection from the downpour. The ranger found himself missing the sight of his mentor's golden hair, which was concealed under the hood. In fact, he could barely see the mask that covered Shadow's face and the shining azure eyes, ever so watchful of their surroundings. The rain had dampened his mentor's orchid scent somewhat, but at this close range, with Shadow's hand still linked to his arm, he could detect a trace of the soothingly seductive scent. The grip on his arm was strong, slender fingers hiding the true strength of the Elf. The contact was radiating heat, sending warmth down the ranger's body in the cold wet night.
Stop it, Aragorn. You know that this feeling is inappropriate since you are attached to Arwen now. You love her and you will marry her. With the iron resolve that he had spent years building, Strider pushed the thought of his mentor aside and returned to scanning the surroundings for signs of danger.
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Shadow's pace was quick; Aragorn had to keep glancing behind to make sure the hobbits were keeping up. They traveled in silence throughout the night in the rising storm. At first light, they had reached boundaries of the forest of Imladris. The ranger could see that the Hobbits were hungry and tired. They could not continue for long. He wished they had not fled the town in such a hurry; Strider had not have the time to prepare supplies for their long track to Rivendell through the wild. As things were now, he must stop and hunt for food daily if his information on Hobbits' eating habits were true, which would slow their journey considerably.
"Shadow, we must stop. The little ones cannot continue. They need food and rest. Please watch over them as I go hunt."
Without a word, his mentor turned and whistled. After a few moments, the sound of a horse approaching their camp filled the company's ears. Aragorn could not help tensing and putting his hand on Anduril's hilt until he saw that the intruder was a rider-less white horse, with a few packs attached to its saddle. It stopped a little in front of Shadow and put his head against the elf's chest. His mentor gently patted it and sang to it softly for a while before gathering the packs from the horse's saddle.
As he watched the play between Shadow and the horse, the sadness of being separated from the Elf struck him hard. He wanted so much for Shadow to sing for him and stroke his hair as he once did.
Stupid man, you are jealous of a horse!! Aragorn mentally reprimanded himself.
Even as he reminded himself that he loved Arwen now, a part of his heart knew the Elf maiden could never truly take Shadow's place. Whenever he had doubts, the Lady would comfort him with gentle encouraging words. But he knew Arwen had been protected all her life. How could she know that Aragorn would be able to defeat the darkness he faced when she did not even have a concept of evil? It was not the same with Shadow, who had seen the worst of human nature. Despite that, his mentor still believed in him, in his strength and goodness.
Part of him wanted so much to tell the Elf how he truly felt, but he knew he would not tempt fate, even if he were not attached to Arwen. After these five years, he could finally see his love again; he would not risk pushing him away so soon.
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Legolas walked over to join the man and hobbits after retrieving his packs from Lightening. He had a dream two weeks ago that Estel was in danger. It was much like the one he had 5000 years ago about Arameius. Since he did not wish to use his magic where his love was concerned, he had traveled to Lothlorien to consult the Lady Galadriel. As soon as he found out the man was headed for Bree to meet Gandalf and escort the Ring Bearer to Rivendell, he knew that was where the danger laid.
He had guessed they would need a hasty escape since he would rather not battle the Nazgûl inside the city. There were too many people in Bree and the chances of innocent bystanders getting hurt were too great. The Ringwraiths might unleash their anger at the townsfolk after the battle if the Elf fought them there. It was much better to draw them from the city before a confrontation, so Legolas had prepared for the occasion.
He had left Lightening outside the city and asked the horse to wait for him at the edge of the forest. He also had brought food enough for a month's journey for four. He had heard of the legendary appetites of the hobbits and did not wish the Ring Bearer to go hungry.
In anticipation of the inevitable battle with the Nazgûl, he brought his weapons from his days as Prince of Greenwood. His twin knives, named Maldalaïsse, a gift from the smiths of Eregion from times before the forging of the Great Rings. They were made especially for him in honor of his beauty and light; enchanted weapons that only he could wield, Golden Leaves for the Golden Prince. They could penetrate through a Wraith's darkness to wound them temporarily. He was sure that the Ringwraiths would hesitate to attack the company again once they had a taste of his blades. He thought himself completely in control of the situation and ready for what lied ahead, but he was wrong.
What he did not prepare for was how positively captivating Estel had become. He was so distracted by the Man's presence that he could barely keep his concentration to cast the immobilization spell on the Nazgûl. It was not that Estel's appearance had changed much during the past five years. Except for the manly stumbles overgrowing his strong sculpted jaw, Estel did not look that difference.
It was the Man's aura that enchanted Legolas. The nobility and courage that shone through his steely grey eyes when he faced the Ringwraiths, the kindness and thoughtfulness as he regarded the Hobbits and the quiet authority in his voice as the Man spoke to him; these kept the Crown Prince of Greenwood spellbound under Aragorn's own brand of magic. The Elf had no doubt the Man was a great leader whom any follower would gladly die for.
Concentrate, Legolas!! You are here only to protect Estel and the Hobbits, nothing more. The man has Arwen now. Legolas thought as he handed some dried fruits and meats to Aragorn.
"There is no need to hunt. I have sufficient food for our journey. Please help yourselves to as much as you like. We cannot linger here long though. We need to put more distance between us and the city," the elf said as he pushed back his hood to reveal his golden hair and masked face. He took a seat next to the Hobbits and handed them a whole bagful of food.
The Hobbits did not seem at all concerned about his appearance. At the promise of food, the Elf could see the Hobbits' eyes lit up. He had thought they would be more suspicious, given their previous experience with the Wraiths; but happily chewing on some sweet dried mango that Legolas had obtained from Lothlorien, the Halflings looked like content children. The Elf made a mental note to protect these little ones as much as he could.
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Aragorn's mind was not on food or the Hobbits. His eyes kept wandering back to Shadow, who sat next the Halflings. It hurt that his mentor had chosen to sit with the little ones instead of him. Could it be that the Elf was still uncomfortable around him after his little display of affections five years ago?
The Hobbits, after their bellies were somewhat satisfied, looked up at the mysterious hooded figure. Sam noticed immediately that the stranger had pointy ears and cried excitedly, "You're an Elf!! I finally get to meet an elf. I am sorry Master Elf for our poor manners. I am Sam, this is my Master, Frodo."
Pippin, who did not wished to be left out of the introductions, chimed in. "I am Pippin, my friends called me Pip. I am a cousin of Frodo, twice removed on his mother's side.."
Merry elbowed the younger Hobbit lightly in the stomach and said with a smile, "I don't think he wants to know your entire lineage, Pip. I am Meriadoc Brandybuck, you can call me Merry."
Legolas could feel four pairs of eyes scrutinizing him, well, actually five. He felt the intense heat of Estel's gaze a while ago, ever since he had taken his seat with the Hobbits. He knew the little ones expected him to introduce himself and were probably curious as to why he wore a mask. The Elf was trying to make up some answer when Aragorn came to his rescue.
"This is my mentor, Shadow. He taught me all that I know." His reply was short and curt. His tone and expression clearly indicating that he wished the Hobbits to drop the subject. Though the Halflings were innocent in the ways of the world, they could sense that Strider was not one to be trifled with. Since they would have to depend on their companion for protection on their journey, they thought it best to remain in good terms with the Man so they averted their gazes and returned to their meal.
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Legolas saw the exchange and felt bad that he was the cause of the unease between the Man and Hobbits. He needed a strategy to defuse the tension, but his mind refused to function properly with Estel so close and staring at him. He needed to get away and clear his head.
"I will go refill the water skins," making up a random excuse to leave their camp.
Legolas found Lightening in a small clearing of the forest. Seeing Aragorn again had brought his pain and grief close to the surface and it was taking most of his powers just to keep it from destroying him. The Elf knew he needed the quiet company of something familiar to soothe his aching heart. He and Lightening had grown very close during their journey from Lothlorien. The Lady of the Woods was kind enough to give him the horse for his journey to Bree. As soon as the horse saw him, it ran towards him and pressed his nose against his chest. The Elf stroke the horse tenderly and pulled from his pockets some dried carrot treats. Though his friend was just a horse, Legolas was glad he was not alone.
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The elf's excuse did not fool Aragorn. He knew his mentor was uncomfortable in their company and was afraid that Shadow would slip away without a word. He asked the Hobbits to wait at the camp and followed the Elf.
He found his mentor in a small clearing with the horse. Once again, he found himself wishing for his mentor's soft gentle touch, despite his repeated mental chants of being in love with Arwen. At that moment, Shadow raised his head and turned towards him.
"You have improved, Estel. I did not hear you until you were thirty yards away," complimented the elf.
"If I have improved, you would not hear me at all," complained a slightly embarrassed Aragorn. He could even surprise his foster brothers, but apparently, there was no hiding from Shadow.
Shadow laughed. It was the same musical laughter, only now it was tinted with a trace of sadness that broke Aragorn's heart. His mentor deserved to be happy; the Elf was the most wonderful person he had ever met. The sadness spoke of a carefully concealed vulnerability; it aroused a protective urge in Aragorn that he had not known. His mentor had always been there to protect him. He had loved the Elf for it, but now he wanted more. He wanted to be a shelter for Shadow as much as his mentor was his light.
Stop dreaming, Isildur's heir. Weakness runs in your blood. You could not protect yourself, least say Shadow.
Aragorn shook his head at that thought. Ever since the One Ring had reappeared, his mind had been plagued with doubts. He tried hard to cling to Shadow's faith in him, but it had been very difficult, without the Elf there by his side. He needed some proof of his strength. He would prove to himself that he could protect the one he cared for most.
"Would you like to spar with me? I had not really had a good match for five years," requested the Man.
Legolas looked at the ranger questioningly. He heard again the quiet authority in Aragorn's tone and knew it was not as much a request as a demand.
But why? Whatever the reason, it would not hurt for me to access how good Estel had become, thought the Elf as he reached for the training swords on Lightening's saddle.
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Legolas was surprised at the ferocity of the Man's attacks. He had been forced on the defensive since the beginning of their match. He had to marvel at Aragorn's strength. The powers of his blows were astounding. Coupled with his quick footwork and vast knowledge of techniques, the Man was definitely the best swordsman Legolas had ever fought. Whenever their swords crossed, the Elf had to step back to stop his own sword from being slammed into his body or switched balance to avoid losing grip on his sword.
Legolas had originally hoped to outlast the Man with his greater agility and endurance, but Aragorn had shown no signs of tiring after numerous rounds of attacks. The Elf knew he must switch to the offensive soon before his arms got too tired from blocking those powerful strikes.
Swords were not Legolas' weapons on choice, their fighting style not best suited for his slight frame. But he knew it would be the ideal weapon for Estel; so every since he started teaching the boy fifteen years ago, he had fought exclusively with it, except at times when he used his bow. He wanted Estel to be able to learn by observation as well as instruction. However, as he blocked yet another slash from his former apprentice, he was beginning to wish that he was using his preferred weapons instead.
The Elf decided to try one of the final techniques of the Ancient Arts, the one he had taught Estel how to defeat as a boy. After all, this was a test of Aragorn's abilities. He charged the Man but instead of thrusting, he leapt back and spun right with lightening speed, prepared to slash at Aragorn's side.
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Aragorn could not believe that he was actually winning. He noticed Shadow's slight grimace when the Elf blocked his last attack. As he saw his mentor rushed him, he knew the Elf was going to use his favorite move. He waited and bade his time, hoping to defeat Shadow the way he had Glorfindel five years ago. As his mentor twisted, he swung his sword to strike the Elf's unprotected left. As Aragorn watched the edge of his training sword approached his mentor's side, his mind was ready to scream with the joy of victory.
But that was not to be. Right before the moment of impact, his mentor released his sword so that he could back-flip over the Man's blade. In a fluid motion swifter than the eye could see, the Elf stepped behind Aragorn, shoving him forward while kicking the Man's legs out from under him. Aragorn fell forward onto the ground in a loud thud and his mentor's sword to his neck before he could even turn.
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"You are amazing, Estel. I think you are the best swordsman in Middle Earth," said Shadow, smiling, as he removed his sword from the Man's neck and offered him a hand up.
Aragorn glared at him and his outstretched hand. The Man knew he had tried his best and it still was not good enough .. and that hurt. "You have defeated me. Why must you mock me so?"
Shadow's smile disappeared. His expression had turned serious and sad. As was his custom, the Elf's gaze bore into Aragorn's eyes before he continued, "I am not mocking you, Estel. I did not beat you at all. In a sparring match, a fighter loses as soon as he loses his sword. You know this. I dropped my sword so I could evade your attack, which means that the match was yours."
Aragorn opened his mouth to begin to argue, but the Elf knelt over him and silenced him with a gentle finger on his lips.
"All your life you had people piled their expectations on you. Because of it, you set such a high standard for yourself that no one on the entire Middle Earth could possibly achieve. Remember when I first met you I told you that you should doubt your instructors not yourself for your lack of skills; it is the same thing here. Maybe you should doubt your standards, not your abilities. You won this match fairly, by the rules; and yet you are not satisfied because it was not a flawless victory. Why can't you just be happy with what you have? How can you be so blind to the goodness in you?"
Sadness emanated from Legolas. Seeing Estel torture himself with his self- doubts was almost as excruciating as the pain of his unrequited love. He had thought that the Lady Arwen would take care of the Man in his absence; but he was wrong and Estel had suffered because of it. Tears were threatening to form, and he must leave before they subdued his resistance. The Man had been hurt enough, without the added burden of his grief and pain.
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Aragorn was speechless. Not so much from the suggestive position they were in, but from the depth of the faith and trust Shadow had for him. How he missed it for the past five years. That was when he noticed the glistening in his mentor's eyes. He wondered if they were tears. But why?
He felt Shadow shifted and prepared to rise. His hands, through volition of their own, moved to his mentor's hips, gently trying to hold the Elf to him. Aragorn's mind was blank, except for the need to keep Shadow with him. He heard his mentor gasped in surprise at the gentle touch, but did not jerk away as the Man expected. Aragorn took that as an encouraging sign and sat up so that his face was only inches from Shadow's. Their eyes locked once more, for the first time, the Elf's gaze was completely unguarded. Aragorn could see the love and painful longing in those moist sapphire beauties, a perfect reflection of his own emotions. As if in a trance, they both leant closer to share their love's first kiss.
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I am aware that Anduril does not exist yet in this point in time in the book or movie verse. But since this is A/U, please bare with me that Narsil had already been reforged into Anduril for Aragorn =) Sorry, I like that sword...
I bow to every author who puts Elvish in their text. Took me a whole hour just to figure out how to say golden leaves in Sindarin. It's Old Sindarin, I think since Maldalaïsse sounds much better than it would have in Classic Sindarin. And even then, I have to put multiple sources together and deduce what the term was... So I am apologizing in advance if it's not entirely correct..